Helios (Cerberus Group Book 2)

by Jeremy Robinson

  FIFTY-THREE

  London, England

  As relieved as he was to know that the Ark was within reach, Pierce couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. The Ark had been found, but not by him.

  After the somewhat disappointing discovery in the secret Masonic hall under Temple Church, he and the others had retired to a hotel room. Showers and soft beds provided some much-needed physical refreshment, but the mystery of what had become of the Ark weighed on Pierce’s mind, keeping him awake well into the wee hours of the morning. He had barely drifted off to sleep when Dourado had called to deliver the news.

  “They found it! Dr. Carter and Mr. Lazarus found the Ark in Ethiopia!”

  His first impulse had been to question the bold claim. How did they know it wasn’t a replica? But during the subsequent conference call, Carter answered all questions and removed all doubts.

  Ethiopia.

  Pierce shook his head. He had been right to question the story recorded in the Ethiopian Kebra Nagast, but wrong to dismiss the many centuries worth of tradition that supported the broader claim that the Ark was there.

  Nothing to do about it now. The ship had sailed. The Ark had been found, and his chance to be Indiana Jones had slipped through his fingers. Now it was time to get down to the business of saving the world.

  After a quick breakfast, they met with Clive Chillingsworth at the London Masonic Hall, this time entering by the front door in Great Queen Street, just half a mile from Temple Church. The original plan had been to scour the secret archives relating to the Templars’ discovery of the Tabernacle and root out a clue that would reveal the Ark’s true location. With that matter resolved, he turned his attention to the subject of how best to use the Ark to shut down the Black Knight.

  “Sir Isaac foresaw this,” Chillingsworth said, after overcoming his initial shock at the revelation of the Ark’s discovery. “Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he recognized the truth that others foresaw many centuries before.”

  “You think this is the End of Days foretold in the Bible?” Gallo asked, without a hint of irony.

  “It would be irresponsible to ignore the many parallels,” Chillingsworth said. “Earthquakes. Signs in the heavens. And the Ark…we mustn’t forget that. The prophecies indicate the Ark will be found and returned to Jerusalem just before the End of Days. Sir Isaac believed that as well.”

  “You also said he predicted the End no sooner than 2060,” Pierce countered.

  “Maybe what he meant to say is that we can buy ourselves another forty years if we get this right,” Fiona suggested.

  Chillingsworth nodded. “It may be that the prophecies were not pronouncements of doom, but instructions about how to avert this catastrophe.”

  “Instructions,” Pierce murmured. “Hidden in ancient prophecies.”

  He glanced over at Fiona, recalling her vision of Raven stealing the sun and moon. He didn’t believe in prophecies. Maybe the Originators were time travelers, or existed outside of the limitations of space-time…which he had to admit, smacked of the supernatural.

  “So it’s not enough to have the Ark?” Fiona went on. “Now we have to get it to Jerusalem?”

  “Specifically, the Temple Mount. Based on Sir Isaac’s calculations, that is where it should reach peak efficiency. And I’m afraid the Ark alone isn’t enough. It must be contained within a structure designed to amplify…or perhaps contain its power.”

  “The Tabernacle,” Pierce said.

  Chillingsworth inclined his head in a nod.

  Pierce let out a sigh. “So all we have to do is get the Ark and the Tabernacle into Jerusalem under the noses of the Israelis, and then set them up on the doorstep of the Dome of the Rock. Easy.”

  He did not need to explain the reason for his frustration.

  The Temple Mount was sacred to all three great monotheistic religions. In addition to being the location of Solomon’s Temple, it was also believed to be the site where Abraham went to offer up his son Isaac as a sacrifice, an act that God prevented. But the incident nonetheless sealed a divine covenant with the descendants of Abraham—Jews and Arabs alike. It was also believed to be the place where Muhammad ascended into heaven, an event that was commemorated with the construction of the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa mosque. After the Kabbah in Mecca, they were the oldest and most revered Islamic structures in existence. Although the site was under their authority, the Israeli government had honored the long-standing Muslim presence, but many in all three faiths believed that one day, a new Jewish Temple would be built on the spot, an action that would serve as the catalyst for the final great battle.

  Some people were actually looking forward to it.

  Erecting the Tabernacle on the Temple Mount and placing the Ark of the Covenant inside would, if it became public knowledge, ignite the thousand-year-old powder keg of religious animosity in the Holy Land. Merely the rumor that the true Ark had been found might be enough of a spark to light that fuse.

  Saving the world from the Black Knight might very well plunge it into a different kind of darkness.

  Maybe Chillingsworth is wrong, Pierce thought. Maybe those prophecies are a warning. Maybe taking the Ark to Jerusalem is what causes the destruction we’re trying to prevent.

  Yet, if they didn’t act, Tanaka would figure out a way to use the Black Knight to destroy the planet.

  “We have to find a way to do this without anyone knowing,” Pierce said. “Absolute secrecy.”

  Chillingsworth offered a cryptic smile. “I told you last night, all our resources are at your disposal.”

  “You’ve got a way to get the Tabernacle into Jerusalem without attracting attention?”

  “I can do better than that. If you can get the Ark from Ethiopia to Israel, we’ll take care of the rest.” He smiled. “Remember, we’ve been preparing for this for three centuries.”

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Tel Aviv, Israel

  The customs official stopped his cart in front of the open loading door, dismounted, and made his way up the ramp into the belly of the cargo plane, clipboard in hand. The plane, its passengers, and its cargo had been accorded special cultural travel privileges, under the auspices of the World Heritage Commission. They were protected by international law. The official was acting outside his jurisdiction.

  Lazarus knew all too well that petty bureaucrats and over-zealous law enforcement agents could throw up any number of roadblocks if they felt they were being marginalized, no matter the actual legal status. And since their actual legal status was a house of cards built on a foundation of half-truths and forged documents, it was best not to antagonize the man.

  He stepped forward to welcome him aboard.

  The inspector cast a judgmental eye at Lazarus, looked past him to Carter, who still wore her netela scarf, and then scrutinized Abuna Mateos and Abba Tesfa Mariam. He glanced down at his clipboard. “I see that you are transporting a religious relic of some kind,” he said in English.

  Lazarus nodded and gestured to a large parcel behind him. It was bigger than a restaurant-sized refrigerator, resting on a pallet, secured to the deck with heavy-duty, nylon cargo netting.

  “What is it?” the man asked, with a hint of suspicion.

  “A replica of the Ark of the Covenant. For the Orthodox Church in Jerusalem.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “Really? The Ark? It’s a lot bigger than I would have expected.”

  Lazarus returned a helpless shrug.

  The inspector moved closer, peering through the gaps in the webbing. As he poked a probing finger through, Lazarus held his breath, dreading the moment when a jolt of electricity would strike the man dead.

  “What is that? Straw?”

  “Papyrus reeds,” Carter said, speaking for the first time. “Cheapest packing material available.”

  That was partially true. There was no shortage of papyrus on Tana Qirqos. The reeds were so ubiquitous that the locals bundled them together into small boats and
cruised around Lake Tana, like stand-up paddle boarders from another century. But the woven reeds on the cargo served another very important purpose.

  Protection.

  Not for the Ark, but from it.

  While Lazarus and Carter had been busy working out travel arrangements with Pierce, Abba Tesfa had returned to the secret crypt, donned the protective priestly vestments, offered incense, and prayed. Then they packed the Ark with several layers of heavy wool blankets and a shroud of woven papyrus reeds.

  Once Abuna Mateos explained the situation to them, the monks of Mitsele Fasiladas monastery were eager to help with the Ark’s removal and transport.

  “They understand what is happening,” the bishop had told Lazarus and Carter. “They know that you intend to return the Ark to Jerusalem, just as the Bible foretold.”

  “Thank God for prophecies,” Carter muttered.

  Mateos just smiled.

  Once the Ark was packed, the monks opened the alternate entrance to the hidden chamber, sealed behind a wall in the monastery complex, and brought the Ark out. They had carried the wrapped bundle with the same gold-layered poles that the Levite priests had once used during the time of Moses.

  “Are blankets and straw going to be enough to keep us safe from that thing?” Lazarus had asked.

  Carter had answered first. “Wool is an excellent insulator. It should be enough to shield us from any electromagnetic radiation.”

  “We have done this before,” Mateo had assured them.

  Getting out of Ethiopia with the Ark posed no great hardship. Security was lax, and the bishop’s reputation carried a lot of weight. The cover story—that the Ark was just a sacred replica—was more than plausible enough to get them on the plane.

  The real challenge was logistical. It had taken two hours to procure a boat large enough to transport the wrapped Ark to shore, two more to get it to the nearest airport large enough to accommodate the cargo plane Dourado had chartered and sent to meet them, followed by a four-hour flight to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv.

  Now, the customs inspector turned away, satisfied with his unauthorized inspection. “Welcome to Israel. Enjoy your stay.”

  As he drove off, a white moving truck pulled forward onto the tarmac, backing up so the rear loading door was facing the cargo ramp.

  A few moments later, a grinning George Pierce stepped onto the ramp. “I have to say, I’m jealous as hell.”

  “I have to say, it was amazing. I had a fedora and a whip, and—” Lazarus began.

  “Is that a joke?” Peirce said with a chuckle. “You joke now? Maybe the Ark really does have supernatural powers.”

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Carter said, coming down the ramp to join them, “it wasn’t where we thought it was going to be either.”

  “The important thing is that we’ve got it,” Pierce said.

  While Carter introduced Pierce to Mateos and the monk, Lazarus opened the truck, which was equipped with a hydraulic lift gate. He used a pallet jack to transfer the Ark off the plane. Once the truck was loaded, Mateos and Tesfa climbed in the back with the precious cargo, while Carter and Lazarus squeezed into the cab with Pierce. A few turns took them away from the airport and onto Highway 1, the main route connecting Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. It was late afternoon, and traffic was heavy but moving.

  “Augustina and Fi are on site,” Pierce said, as they settled in for the drive. “The Tabernacle is already set up.”

  “That was quick,” Lazarus remarked.

  “Chillingsworth contacted a bunch of guys from the local Masonic lodge. They were eager to help. It took us three hours to take the thing down and load the truck in London. They got it back up in half an hour.”

  “Do they know the whole story?” Carter asked.

  Pierce shook his head. “As far as they know, it’s an elaborate reproduction that will be part of their annual consecration ceremony.”

  Lazarus smiled to himself. They had used a similar deception, which like any good lie, was so much easier to swallow than the truth. If they had told the customs inspector that they were carrying the real Ark of the Covenant, the man would probably have flagged them as religious kooks.

  As they continued along, Pierce peppered them with questions about their discovery on Tana Qirqos, dissecting at length the story Mateos had told them to explain how the Ark came to be in Ethiopia, and offering alternatives.

  “There’s another theory that the Templars might have sent the Ark to Ethiopia for safe-keeping,” he told them. “Which, knowing what we now do, makes a lot of sense. They might have found the Ark under Mount Nebo, along with the Tabernacle, and then decided to split them up to prevent anyone from prematurely trying to fulfill the prophecy.”

  Lazarus shrugged. “You should talk to Mateos.”

  Pierce chuckled. “I’ll do that. I’m looking forward to it, actually.”

  “You do realize we’re going to have to give it back?” Carter said.

  Pierce’s smile went flat. “That’s something else we’ll have to talk about.”

  “George, there’s nothing to talk about. This isn’t some forgotten relic that we discovered in a lost city. It’s theirs, and it has been for a long time. They chose to share this with us. The least we can do is respect their claim to it.”

  “Like I said, we’ll have to…” Pierce’s voice trailed off as the sky went dark.

  The change was so abrupt that brake lights began flashing on as other drivers reacted to something they had never before experienced.

  Lazarus knew how quickly storm clouds could darken the sky, and it was nearly sundown…but this was something different. The sun had not slipped below the horizon, nor was there a cloud in the sky. He looked over at Pierce, whose grim expression confirmed what he knew.

  “It’s happening.”

  FIFTY-FIVE

  Jerusalem, Israel

  Abdul-Ahad felt blessed. Despite his failure on Mount Sinai, Israfil had given him a second chance, entrusting him with a new, and even more important mission.

  It almost made the pain bearable.

  His eyes felt like they were full of sand, and nothing he could do would alleviate the sensation. At least he could still see.

  It had taken him a long time to crawl down off the slopes of Mount Sinai, and despite his best efforts, he had been discovered. Fortunately, the emergency responders had mistaken him for one of the many victims of the attack. Instead of being arrested, he had been treated for his injuries. His eyesight had returned after an hour. He then slipped away into the nearby tourist village where he sent a text message to Israfil, reporting his failure. His unseen guide had praised his devotion and promised that his sacrifice would be remembered by God.

  That had seemed like the end of it. He had made the decision to lie low, waiting for a chance to slip away from the active terrorism investigation. After a few hours, pain had blossomed in his eyes, as his inflamed corneas began exerting pressure against the surrounding nerves. The mere idea of trying to catch a ride back to Suez or returning to his home in Saudi Arabia, was too onerous to contemplate.

  But then Israfil had sent another message, offering him a chance for redemption.

  Pierce, the agent of the anti-messiah, was on his way to defile the holy city, Jerusalem. He could not be allowed to carry out his mission.

  Israfil had recruited more fighters, sending some to retrieve Abdul-Ahad from Sinai, and others to keep an eye on Pierce. After hours of wallowing in despair, Abdul-Ahad was grateful to be given the chance to serve again.

  Even with expertly forged travel papers supplied by Israfil, traveling in Israel was risky. But as they arrived in Jerusalem, they learned that Pierce had come to them. He was at the edge of the Old City’s Muslim Quarter, in the multi-tiered park-like environs of the Damascus Gate. The name of the district reflected a historic tradition rather than an actual cultural division, but the area surrounding Haram esh-Sharif—the Noble Sanctuary, or as the Jews and the Christians termed
it, the Temple Mount—was occupied predominately by Muslims. The young Arabs and Palestinians working with Abdul-Ahad, guided by the faceless Israfil, could effortlessly blend in, disappearing among their fellow believers.

  It was Pierce and his group who stuck out.

  Pierce had arrived earlier, along with the two women and dozens of workmen, all of whom had descended the steps to a cave entrance in the Old Wall. They had transferred crate after crate of cargo from a moving truck. Israfil had advised them to keep watch from their post on a nearby rooftop and wait for a sign. After a couple of hours, most of the workmen departed. Pierce left in the truck, traveling alone. It was frustrating to have the target so close, literally within sight, but as always, Israfil’s wisdom was beyond question.

  The sign had come, and what a sign it was.

  It had come just before sunset. The man assigned to shadow Pierce had just reported that the subject of his surveillance had made a pickup at the airport and was on his way back. Abdul-Ahad had wondered if this was the reason Israfil had cautioned them to wait.

  That was when the sky had gone dark with the abruptness of a sandstorm blotting out the sun. Only there was no storm. No weather at all. The sun simply disappeared from the sky, plunging the world into night.

  A few seconds later, Israfil sent another message.

  >Eliminate the agents of Masih ad-Dajjal. This is my final message. You will not hear from me again. Yawm al-Qiyāmah begins.

  Abdul-Ahad’s heart soared. He passed the message along to the others and readied his weapon. “When Pierce gets here,” he told the others, “we’ll follow him into the cave and kill them all.”

  They had no guns. Only Jews were permitted to buy and possess firearms in Israel, and acquiring them on the black market would have taken more time than they had. But swords and knives were easier to come by and were just as deadly. Pierce and his people did not appear to be armed.

  Around them, the world was falling into madness. The air was filled with the noise of sirens and alarms, and occasional gunfire. Israfil had not been wrong. Yawm ad-Din, the Day of Judgment, preceding Yawm al-Qiyāmah, the Day of Resurrection, had arrived. In his mind’s eye, he could see the fighting all across the city—maybe all over the world—as the faithful took up arms to battle the armies of the anti-messiah.