The Nostradamus File

by Alex Lukeman

  They checked into the Royal George Hotel, not far from the castle. It had a pub that looked inviting. Their rooms were comfortable, in the way of small European hotels that provide a personal touch.

  The clerk recommended they take the Mill Pond Walk and handed them a map of the town and castle.

  "Castle's closing tomorrow for repairs, I'm afraid," he said. "You still have time for a tour, if you hurry."

  Outside the hotel they looked up at the massive walls of the castle.

  "How would you like to try and get through that with a sword?" Ronnie said.

  The castle would have presented real problems for a 13th Century attacker. The walls were thick and high, built of strong Welsh stone. Rounded towers with battlements marched along the fortifications. The wall facing the town featured a heavily reinforced gatehouse.

  Selena read from the guide book. "That kind of gate was called a Barbican. It says they stopped using them a century or so after the castle was built."

  "You can see why they used catapults and rams," Lev said. "Even then, it would take serious men to breach those walls."

  "You'd be climbing ladders with pots of burning oil and arrows raining down on your head," Selena said. "If you managed to reach the ramparts, you'd face a wall of swords and spears. All hand to hand."

  "Books make it sound romantic," Nick said. "But it's still the same old story. Blood and death with the flags waving."

  Lev nodded agreement. "It hasn't changed much. We're just more efficient, now. One flight of F-16s would make this whole thing go away."

  "You're a cynic, Lev."

  "No. A realist. I hate war. I've lived with it my entire life."

  They paid the admission fee and entered the castle grounds and found themselves in the Outer Ward, the first defended area. Across the way was a tall stone tower called the Great Keep. It dominated the castle grounds. From the top of the tower, defenders could have seen the entire force attacking them. They would have retreated to the Keep for a last stand, if the outer walls were breached by an attack.

  Wogan Cavern was at the bottom of a long, winding staircase of stone that began in a building called the North Hall, on the river side of the compound. They descended single file down the narrow stairs and into the cavern. A half dozen tourists milled about, taking pictures.

  The cave was about 80 feet long by 60 wide. The roof was high overhead. The limestone walls were moist, the floor uneven with small puddles of water in the hollows.

  The open end of the cavern faced out onto the river. Two tall, narrow windows with iron grills were set above and to the right of a wide, arched opening closed off by a gate of black iron bars. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the openings. It was like stepping back in time a thousand years. Nick half expected men with swords and hard looks to come down those winding stairs and ask them what they were doing there.

  Selena consulted her tourist guide.

  "It says the gate was probably used to launch boats down to the river."

  "That's our way in later," Nick said. "Let's look for that cave."

  They walked to the wall where the satellite had shown a second cave. It looked exactly like the other walls.

  "I don't see anything," Lev said.

  "There has to be something. Look harder."

  "Here," Selena said. She ran her fingers over the surface.

  They stood next to her and peered at the surface of the wall. There was a faint line in the irregular stone, so faint no one would see it if they weren't looking in the right spot. The passage of centuries and the constant drip of moisture had blended the marks of the opening into the ridges and valleys of the walls. Nick had to look twice to be sure.

  "Have to hand it to them," Ronnie said. "You really can't tell."

  "Let's check out the gate," Nick said.

  The gate was strong and locked, but the weakness of any gate was in the lock.

  "It won't take long to get through it," Ronnie said.

  The land sloped away from the gate down to the river.

  "We could get right to it from the water."

  "How are we going to get the Ark out of there?" Lev said. "Assuming it's behind that wall?"

  "Carry it. We need a boat big enough."

  "And then?"

  "We'll load it in the van. Then we go to the nearest US air base. Probably Fairford in Gloucestershire. Then we get a lift back to the States."

  "Maybe it should go to Tel Aviv."

  "We'll decide that when and if we find it," Nick said.

  "Too bad Lamont isn't here," Selena said. "Water, boats, a night mission. It's what he loves."

  Lev said nothing.

  "We've seen enough," Nick said. "Let's head back into town and find out about boats. We'll go tomorrow night."

  They started the steep climb back to the castle hall above. Behind them, a man wearing a light windbreaker followed. At the top, he paused and watched them walk away toward the gatehouse. He took out his phone and pressed a number.

  "Yes."

  "I think they've discovered something."

  "You know what to do."

  "It could get messy."

  "If they find something, take it and eliminate them. Minimize any collateral damage. And make damn sure you don't get caught."

  "Yes, sir."

  The man in the windbreaker turned off his phone. He glanced at his watch. The others should have arrived by now. They'd be waiting for him back in town.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  The Conference Center at the Dan Panorama Hotel in Tel Aviv was packed. Ari Herzog stood near the back of the room and eyed the crowd. On stage, Joshua Weisner was railing about the policies of the current government. The man could speak, Ari gave him that, but the longer he listened, the more his head hurt. One thing Ari knew for certain was that there was no easy solution to what was usually called the Palestinian Problem. He considered rabble rousers like Weisner part of that problem. For Ari, Weisner's so-called solutions were a recipe for disaster and perpetual war.

  Agents of Shin Bet were scattered throughout the Center. Herzog monitored their murmured comments through his earpiece. A riot had started the last time this man had addressed a large crowd like this, with forty people ending up in the hospital. Herzog wished people like Weisner would just go away. But they weren't going to go away until there was peace, which seemed farther off to Herzog than it had ever been.

  Weisner had just finished describing the need for more settlements on the West Bank when the first shot rang out, the deep bark of a large caliber rifle. An aide crumpled forward onto the stage. The second shot took out a security guard rising to his feet. Weisner ducked down behind the podium. People began screaming.

  Herzog yelled into his mike. "In the back! The shooter is in the back!"

  He drew his pistol and turned in time to see the third shot fired. A man with a rifle stood at the back of the room. One of Ari's agents lay unmoving at the man's feet.

  Ari fired. The Jericho was an accurate weapon as far as side arms went, but the range wasn't good. He missed. The man swung the rifle in his direction. Ari ran toward him and fired again, three shots, then three more. Screams filled the room. People tripped over chairs and trampled each other as they tried to scramble out of the way.

  Some of Ari's bullets went home. The man staggered and the rifle fired. A woman dressed in a gold evening gown was blown backward by the round. Ari fired again. He kept firing until the slide locked. The shooter jerked spasmodically as the rounds struck and fell back to the floor. Ari ejected the empty magazine and inserted another as he reached the rifleman. His agents were converging on the body. The shooter lay on the floor, blood pooling around him.

  "Call the ambulances," Ari shouted. "Lock down the hotel. Now! And keep people away from this man."

  He looked down at the body. How the hell did he get past security with that rifle? It was a question a lot of people would be asking. Another was who the shooter was and where he'd come from. Maybe he was P
alestinian. Maybe he wasn't. That was part of the problem. Jews and Arabs often looked the same. They carried the same genes. They just didn't believe in the same things.

  One of his agents came up to him.

  "Ambulances on the way. The hotel's being sealed." He paused. "The Broadcasting Authority was live on the air."

  Damn, Ari thought. This was a key election event. Practically everyone in the nation would have been watching on television. Weisner's stock would rise to the stratosphere. He'd be seen as a champion, an almost martyr to the security of Israel. The election had just gotten a lot closer.

  Ari prodded the body with his toe. "Get this piece of crap to the morgue. Find out who he is. If he's Hezbollah or one of the other groups, there's going to be big trouble."

  "What about Weisner?"

  Ari looked at the stage. Joshua Weisner was gone, hustled away by his security detail.

  "What about him?"

  "Do you want to talk to him? He's backstage."

  "No," Ari said. "I've heard enough talk from him for one day."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  "Someone tried to assassinate Joshua Weisner last night," Harker said. "Israel is on high alert."

  Nick was in his room at the George Hotel. The secure satellite connection was good.

  "Is there ever a time when they aren't? Who did it?"

  "A Palestinian. They've ID'd him as Hezbollah. There are large, organized demonstrations in Lebanon, people shooting into the air, flag burnings, lots of martyr rhetoric. You know the drill."

  "How is the government reacting?"

  "They have to appear strong. Prime Minister Lerner has been forced into a corner. If he doesn't retaliate, he'll be seen as weak right before an election. If he does retaliate, there'll be diplomatic outbursts, world condemnation, riots. The usual. It's a Catch-22. A lot depends on exactly what he does."

  "What's your best guess?" Nick asked.

  "Our satellites show massive preparations. Troops mobilizing, planes being fueled, the whole nine yards. Lerner is a conservative moderate and a staunch supporter of Israel's security. He and everyone else is fed up with Hezbollah. My guess is that he's going to invade Lebanon and go after them. He'd gain the backing of the extreme conservative elements right before the election. It means a blood bath, with lots of civilian casualties."

  "That didn't work the last time. And Hezbollah is backed by Iran."

  "What's different this time is that I think Lerner really means it."

  "Hezbollah is backed by Iran."

  "That's a problem. I don't think the Mullahs will stand by and let their puppets be taken out of the game."

  "Another war?"

  "Yes. I hope I'm wrong, but my intuition says otherwise."

  Nick sighed. Elizabeth's intuition was usually right on.

  "What's your operational status?" Harker asked.

  "There's a bright moon tonight, but weather says considerable cloud cover. We'll get in through the river gate, open up that cave and see what we find. There's minimum security at the castle. They don't need it. Once they lock up for the night, it's pretty hard to get in. That was the idea when they built it 900 years ago and nothing has changed. Won't be much of a problem for us, though."

  "How's Lev working out?"

  "Nothing's happened yet. I expect he'll be fine."

  "The problems at home may distract him."

  "I'll deal with it."

  "All right, Nick. Brief me as soon as you know what's in that cave."

  "Roger that."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  The river was calm and black and smelled of green weeds and rushes and mud. A chorus of frogs croaked in chaotic rhythm in the night. The sky was clouded over, the moon a dull glow when it could be seen at all. It was a night that almost defined the words black ops.

  They'd found a wide, flat-bottomed skiff, big enough to hold them and anything they might discover in the castle. They'd changed into black clothes. Ronnie carried a small pack with the things they needed.

  Nick worked the oars, breaking the surface of the river with quiet splashes. Selena watched the towering castle wall draw closer, a darker shape in the blackness of the night.

  This is real, she thought. I'm about to sneak into a 12th Century castle in Britain to look for the Ark of the Covenant. She felt the adrenaline rush begin, the excitement.

  The boat grounded with a soft scrape at the bottom of the slope below Wogan Cavern. They scrambled out. Nick pulled the skiff up out of the water. They climbed up to the gate leading into the cave and Ronnie took out his pouch of tricks. He bent to the lock. A minute later the gate swung open, the hinges making a brief, harsh noise in the night.

  Inside the cavern, Nick turned on his light. The LEDs cast an intense, blue-white beam on the limestone walls. They glistened in the cold light. The cavern seemed vast in the darkness. It was silent except for the sound of their breathing and a slow drip of water.

  They went to the spot they'd found the day before. Ronnie took a spray can from his pack.

  "Better move back," he said. "Makes a lot of fumes."

  Ronnie sprayed the contents of the can back and forth across the concealed opening and stepped away. Thick, bitter smoke roiled off the surface. After five minutes, the reaction stopped.

  "Now what?" Lev said.

  For answer, Ronnie stepped forward. He kicked the wall. It fell inward, revealing a dark opening. A whiff of old, stale air pushed past them.

  "Technology is a wonderful thing," he said. "Better living through chemistry."

  "We don't have anything like that," Lev said. There was admiration in his voice.

  They bent low to enter. Inside, the roof was high enough to stand. Nick moved his light back and forth. The cave was about fifteen feet long and as wide again. Something gleamed white in the back corner. Nick played his light over it. It was a skeleton, wearing a leather tunic and boots and fragments of clothing. A long sword lay at its side. The skull had been cleaved open by a savage blow. The rest of the cave was empty except for rubble on the floor.

  "Damn." Nick swore under his breath.

  Selena felt a wave of disappointment. There was no Ark. No Templar treasure. Just old bones and debris.

  "I wonder what happened to this guy?" Ronnie walked over to the bones. He picked up the sword, swung it across, back again. The blade was over three feet long. It made a thick, deadly sound as it cut through the air.

  "Nasty. I wouldn't want to get cut with one of these."

  "Can I see that, Ronnie?"

  He handed the sword to Selena. She examined the hilt.

  "This isn't a 13th Century sword," she said. "Look at the hilt. It's a basket hilt. See the rounded guard and the way the hilt is pierced and sculpted? The earlier swords had wide, heavy blades meant for slashing. This one is narrow, made to thrust. This is from the 17th Century, maybe around the time of Cromwell. It's the right style."

  Ronnie was no longer surprised at the things Selena knew. "Who was Cromwell?" he asked.

  "A Protestant commander who defeated the Catholic Royalists in England's Civil War. He took over the rule of England. Cromwell is one of the most controversial figures in English history."

  "Was he ever here, at Pembroke?"

  "I don't know."

  Selena played her light over the floor in the center of the cave.

  "There was something heavy here," she said. "You can see where it made marks as it was dragged away. A chest, something like that."

  "Could it have been the Ark?"

  "Maybe. The Ark took four priests to carry it."

  Her light caught something shiny on the floor. She bent down and picked it up.

  "Gold," she said. "It's a small piece of thin gold. It could have come from the covering of the Ark."

  "Looks like we're a few hundred years too late," Nick said. "Let's get out of here. Ronnie, take the sword with you. It's the only connection to whatever happened here."

  They went back out to the cavern
and through the gate. Nick closed it behind them. The next time someone went into Wogan Cavern, they were in for a surprise.

  There was a sound from the river that shouldn't have been there. A boot, scraping on rock.

  They dropped flat to the sloping ground. Clothing whispered as they drew their pistols.

  Then the night lit with the flash of guns.

  Lying there on the steep slope under the castle walls with the whine of bullets passing overhead, Selena entered the zone.

  Time turned into a slow motion dream. A light breeze off the water brought the dank, moist smell of the river and the rushes on the banks, mixed with the sharp odor of burnt gunpowder. She watched the bright, winking flashes of the guns below. She fired back at them, watched her pistol lift slowly with the recoil of each shot.

  Ronnie lay next to her. She saw the slide on his pistol working back and forth, the empty cases drifting through the air, settling and bouncing around them. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized they were in a full blown firefight. The sound of the guns seemed far off, muffled. There was another sound. With a shock, she realized she was yelling, an inarticulate scream of primal rage and fear. It snapped the spell. Time sped up again.

  They lay on the ground, facing down at the river, everyone firing. It sounded like someone had started World War Three.

  Then it was over. They waited. Across the water a light came on in someone's house. Then another. There were no more shots from below. Nick risked a quick light. Crumpled shapes lay on the slope below. His beam landed on a boat drifting away from the shore. An arm draped over the edge trailed in the river current. The boat was beginning to settle as water poured through bullet holes in the side. Nick stood. The others got to their feet. All except Lev.

  "Lev," Nick said. "Are you all right?"

  He bent over the Israeli. Lev lay face down on the ground. The back of his skull was bloody. Brain matter oozed from the wound. Nick rolled him over. There was a large, open wound in his forehead. His eyes were open.