“Hold the fuck still!” Brandt shouted, but to no avail.
Pulling his arm from his sleeve, Lochum cast himself into the current.
“No!” Rebecca cried, almost losing her own hold as she groped for the professor. Just as her fingers were about to slip, Brandt was there, holding her.
“Hyperventilate,” he said, trying to yell over the growing roar.
“What?” she asked. Why did he always make the least sense when it mattered most?
“We’re about—” The sergeant took a spray of water right in the mouth.
Only then did she realize the new danger. The tunnel was rapidly filling. The water level had brought them nearly horizontal. Within seconds they would be trapped underwater.
* * *
When Rebecca turned to Brandt, her face was full of panic.
“Hyperventilate!” Brandt yelled again. They needed to clear their bloodstreams of carbon dioxide to quell their bodies’ desire to breathe.
This time she obeyed.
As the water swirled, the sergeant shouted, “Now hold!”
He too gulped down a lungful of air before the water cascaded over their heads. Brandt had to blink several times to get his eyes used to being under the bracing water. When his vision cleared he found Rebecca staring at him through the green cast by his glow stick, her eyes wide open. Her lips pursed as if she was going to say something, but, of course, she could not.
However, Brandt knew her question. What in the hell happened?
Well, it turned out he wasn’t quite the genius he thought he was. It had sounded like a great idea to hook up a fuse-delayed stash of C-4 in the tunnels and bring down the roof on their adversaries, eliminating both search parties in one fell swoop. Only he had not counted on all the water.
If they had broken through into the Danube River, they were screwed. If, however, they had just burst a water main, there was a slim chance that someone, somewhere, would notice the dropping pressure and turn off a main valve.
That was one too many fucking “ifs” for Brandt.
And Rebecca was now in true distress. The doctor obviously had not had the rigorous survival training his team had. Her face blotched red as her cheeks puffed out, with a small trail of bubbles escaping her lips.
Brandt felt her body spasm. It wanted air. It needed air, and her body was about to override her brain, causing her to gasp. She did not have long. He put a hand to her cheek. At this point it would be useless to give her some of his air. It would be full of carbon dioxide like her own stale breath, but he couldn’t just let her die.
Brandt pulled her close, bringing them mouth-to-mouth, but she struggled against him. Looking into his eyes, she calmly shook her head, “no,” then let out all the air in her lungs. He felt his diaphragm contract.
Then the stone cracked above them, sheering off. They tumbled with the current, head over heel.
* * *
Rebecca clung to the leather straps across Brandt’s chest as the water tossed them against the wall, then a stalagmite, then the wall again. Her lungs screamed for air, but she kept her lips clenched shut. Just another few moments. Just a few.
Then it was as if someone had shut off a spigot. With the pressure released, they tumbled, limbs entangled, to the floor as the water swirled out of the tunnel. Rebecca sucked in air as her body shook with the cold.
“Are you all right?” Brandt asked, but she could not answer. Her brain was still screaming for oxygen. The sergeant became more frantic as he searched over her for wounds. “Hit me if it hurts.”
As water trickled down her face, Rebecca looked into his eyes. “You’re alive.”
Brandt smoothed the drowned locks from her face. “In what world would I have ever gotten on that flight to London?”
Without thinking she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. It felt so natural and right… only he didn’t kiss back.
* * *
As her lips caused a wave of heat that his leather skirt wouldn’t be able to hide if he didn’t break contact, Brandt gently pushed her away.
“I can’t, Rebecca. I just—”
Looking embarrassed, the doctor squirmed from his grasp. “Yeah. No. I get… Okay.”
“Damn it, no, I mean—”
“Wa-fucking-hoo!” a shout came from behind them. “Did you see that? Cave surfing! I just fucking invented cave surfing!”
Brandt turned back to Rebecca, but she was already climbing to her feet, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Have you seen Lochum?” she asked.
Lopez indicated down the tunnel behind him. “He’s holed up in a side passage mumbling over a piece of bone… Like usual.”
Brandt rose as well. “We’ve got to start a grid search for Davidson and Svengurd.”
“Don’t bother,” a voice called from behind him. The private and Svengurd propped each other up as they made their way down the tunnel.
The corporal had a gash over his eye that was not there two minutes ago and a bullet wound to the calf that had been there since their latest firefight. Davidson looked half-dazed and his right shoulder slumped to his side limp, dislocated again. They looked like shit, but they were on their feet.
All in all, after the last twenty-four hours, he would take it.
“All right, we’ve got to evac pronto. We have to assume some of them survived the torrent.” Brandt looked at Rebecca. “We’re going to obtain a car and drive to the nearest American base.”
“That would be Stuttgart, Germany,” Davidson added.
Lopez jumped in. “Yes, the Autobahn!”
As Davidson groaned, Brandt finished. “We’re coming in from the cold.” He arched an eyebrow at Rebecca. “Any objections?”
She was in the middle of shaking her very soggy head when Lochum charged into the tunnel. “No! ‘Becca, you must read this.”
“Professor, do not start,” Brandt growled, but the doctor took the proffered bone.
* * *
Rebecca scanned the markings on James’ ulna. Most of the text she couldn’t make out, except for a single word that was held apart from the rest.
“Byzantium,” she mumbled.
“Exactly.” Lochum cradled her hands in his. “All is not lost. We know where Jesus is laid to rest!”
“Where’s Byzantium?” Davidson asked.
Without looking at the private, Rebecca answered. “After the Roman Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity, Byzantium was renamed Constantinople.”
“Istanbul,” Brandt grunted, frowning deeply. “Turkey.”
She studied the professor, who looked like a drowned rat. The single piece of skeleton that had survived the mini-tsunami gave an intriguing clue, but Rebecca had hit the wall. Both physically and metaphysically. She just did not have anything left.
“Archibald, I can’t. I need some food and a probably a hospital at this point and—”
“Look more closely,” he urged, pointing to the small notch in the bone where the humerus normally articulated.
Rebecca squinted to make out the lettering, but as always they were run together, no spacing between the words or sentences. “I’ll have to run this through my—”
She patted her shoulders. Where was her laptop? Rebecca spun around, searching the tunnel. When had she lost it? Where had she lost it?
“Forget about your damned machine! Just read it from the tip of the articulating cartilage to the physical suture.”
But she couldn’t concentrate. Her whole life had just been washed away. Everything. Her research. Her Christmas card list. Granted it was short, but it was gone.
“Rebecca Sophia Monroe!” Lochum’s tone brooked no argument. “Use the good sense God gave you!”
With more focus she looked at the lettering, utilizing the natural, almost microscopic, architecture of the bone, she read the text.
“For he who died upon the cross was loved… or maybe they mean coveted, or wanted…”
“Go on, go on.”
She had to admit that it was pretty clear that Jesus’ remains were heading to Turkey, a holy land that was rivaled only by Judea in ancient times.
“Think of it. Does it not make the most sense? The Virgin’s home is in Ephesus. She traveled there with St. John. Philip and Thomas were in and out of that region their entire ministries. Why else but to be near their Lord?”
Shaking her head, Rebecca tried to keep some perspective. “But you and I, hell, everyone, has been over that region with a fine-tooth comb.”
He cocked his head. “As they had in Budapest?”
Brandt stepped between them. “You know what? All this debate is moot. There will be no more sightseeing. We are going to Germany.”
But even the sergeant didn’t sound too sure of his words.
Lochum must have sensed it as well, for he presented the relic to Brandt. “These are just a few sentences we have been able to decode. Give us a few hours and imagine what we might discover.”
Rebecca looked at the sergeant, but was unable to meet his eye. Had she really tried to kiss him? She shoved the thought from her mind. This was bigger than some sophomoric romantic attempt. Istanbul called to them. Her own interest piqued.
“Isn’t there an Air Force base in Turkey?” she asked.
Brandt frowned. “Yes, but it’s much farther south than Istanbul.”
How Rebecca wished she had her laptop. Instead, she conjured a map of Europe in her mind. “True, but aren’t we equidistant from Turkey and Germany?”
The sergeant looked to Lopez who reluctantly answered. “Yeah, but there’s no Autobahn.” She frowned, so he retorted, “I’m not joking. It significantly affects travel time. I could shave at least an hour off by—”
Rebecca put a hand up to stop his prolonged explanation. “I wasn’t suggesting we drive.”
Brandt’s growled. “You saw what happened when we tried to fly.”
“I’m talking about a private plane.” She looked over at Lopez. “You could hot-wire one, right?”
“Try and stop me,” the Latino said with pride.
* * *
Brandt glared at Lopez. He did not need anyone encouraging her.
“Even if I agreed to not be a hassle?” Rebecca tilted her head toward Lochum. “He’s certainly going to try and get away every chance he gets.”
“Not if he’s unconscious.”
But the doctor shot him the same “don’t bother threatening something if you would never do it” look that she had given him back in the Ecuadorian jungle when he threatened the women and children.
“We are not under arrest, are we?” the professor asked. “You are supposed to be protecting us, I would guess, not stripping us of our civil liberty to travel freely of our own accord.”
Goddamned civilians. Perhaps he could shift the debate.
“Our first priority is to get the hell out of these caves, secure new clothing, and—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the professor said, this time with a deeper tone of authority. “Without your word we will travel next to Istanbul.”
Seriously, civilians really needed to learn to take orders better, but clearly the brass wanted Lochum safe. Not for his charming personality, Brandt was sure, but for his single-minded mission of finding Jesus. His team had first been involved in this fiasco to bring Monroe to help the professor. If he hog-tied Lochum and brought him back to the US, but the Knot found Christ because of it…
Let’s just say that his and all of his men’s careers would be over.
“Fine.” Brandt turned to his men as Lochum snorted in victory, then headed down the tunnel. “Lopez, secure a vehicle to get us to the private airstrip. Davidson and Svengurd, you’re on garment appropriation. I want out of this skirt, like now.”
As his men headed off, Brandt turned to talk with Rebecca privately, but she trotted to catch up with the professor. “Lochum!”
* * *
Not so much wanting to talk with the professor as desperately as not wanting Brandt to remind her of how inappropriate she had been earlier, Rebecca trotted next to Lochum.
“We should split the text up so we can each be working on a section.”
“Of course, of course,” he said, though it was obvious he hadn’t heard a word she had said.
“Can I hot-wire a plane?” Lopez snorted as he passed. “I could be blinded and have a hand tied behind my back… No wait, that’s Davidson!”
Even Svengurd laughed, but the private grimaced. “Very funny.”
The men seemed jovial as they walked onto the street level. Luckily, due to the party at Parliament, no one had yet investigated the damage.
As she crested the lip of the cavern, Rebecca pulled to a halt. Before her glistened Buda. Perched over the Danube, the city twinkled against the night sky. The sparkling Chain Bridge was as beautiful as any monument on the seven continents. The ancient Castle quarter nearly glowed and the much newer Parliament building glittered with a thousand points of lights. The sight was breathtaking.
No one else seemed to notice the jewel across the river as Lochum sat upon the nearest curb to study his cherished relic.
Then someone paused beside her. Even after being doused in a million gallons of water, Rebecca could still recognize Brandt’s scent on the fresh night air. They stood silently scanning the bright horizon.
The sergeant’s tone sounded pained. “Look, the military’s got strict rules about…”
“Really, you don’t need to evoke protocol just to protect my feelings.” Before he could say anything else, Rebecca walked toward Lochum. Him, she understood. He didn’t bring blood to her cheeks and other parts south.
What did they always say? Go with the devil you know?
Right?
CHAPTER 18
Budapest Ferenc Liszt International Airport
Lopez was earning his salary today. That was for damned sure. The corporal had stolen a Volvo station wagon, gotten them to the airstrip, and hot-wired a private jet in under a half an hour. If there were bonus pay for efficiency, Lopez would be cleaning up.
“All right, everyone strap in,” Brandt ordered.
Lochum gave a thumbs-up, but Rebecca still wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Chicks.
They made everything so damned complicated. He was on duty, for Christ’s sake. It was bad enough he had gone off-book to track her down in Budapest, but now he was escorting them all the way to Istanbul. What else did she want from him?
“And now if everyone would please place their stewardess in her upright and locked position,” their slightly sleep-deprived pilot announced over the intercom.
Davidson openly laughed. Svengurd chuckled under his breath. Lochum even smirked, but Brandt growled, “Lopez.”
The corporal leaned out of the cockpit. “Sorry, boss. Control’s asking for a flight plan.”
“Tell them Athens, Greece. We’ll update in-flight.”
“You got it,” Lopez said as he fired up the engines.
As the corporal taxied them down the runway, Brandt glanced at Rebecca. Her eyes were fixed on James’ bone. He got the feeling it wasn’t so much in service to her studies but more to avoid him.
The small luxury liner shuddered as Lopez revved the engine. This plane, with its leather seats, thick shag carpeting, and lilac-scented napkins seemed more used to ferrying Budapest’s elite around Europe tha
n making a Lopez speed getaway.
Within seconds they received their all-clear for takeoff and were in the air. In typical fashion, the corporal turned on the “seat belt” sign, which Brandt promptly ignored. He motioned for Davidson to unbuckle as well. They met at the cockpit.
“All right, Lopez, time for you to get some shut-eye.”
The corporal shook his head violently. “This baby’s a Learjet 60. I specifically stole this model so I could see what airspeed I could reach.”
Brandt put his hand on Lopez’s shoulder to let him know how serious he was. “Davidson is cleared for level and steady flight. Just get us up to cruising speed, and then get some rest. We’ll get you up when it’s time to land.”
“But—”
He squeezed even tighter. The grip was no longer a friendly gesture, but instead a warning.
Lopez looked at Davidson, who shrugged as he plopped down in the copilot’s seat. “Hey, dude, I just do what I’m ordered.”
But it was quite clear the kid was itching to get behind the yoke. The corporal sighed and began to transfer the controls to his copilot.
“On my count. Three. Two. One—”
Before he finished, Rebecca called from behind, “Did you feel that?”
Her voice was shrill. Much higher than normal. Brandt glanced at Lopez and Davidson, but they both shook their heads.
“Svengurd?”
The tall man frowned. “Maybe.”
“Maybe, what?”
Brandt need not have asked, as an explosion to their right nearly knocked them from the sky. Instinctively, Lopez banked steeply left.
“That wasn’t a missile, was it?”
Davidson looked out his window. “Hell, yes. Here comes another!”
Brandt stumbled backward as the corporal pulled out of the bank and brought the nose nearly vertical. They ascended at an insane rate.
“You’re going to stall her!” Davidson screamed over the roar of the engines.
But Lopez ignored his copilot as another explosion sounded beneath them, shuddering the entire plane. They climbed so steeply that he feared the wings would rip off, yet Lopez wore his trademark shit-eating grin.
“I told you, she’s a Learjet 60!”
“Incoming!” Svengurd called from the cabin.
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