“Raiders!”
He turned in his saddle, then redirected his gaze to where Zimri was pointing. He cursed. Two dozen riders lined the top of the ridge. He checked over his shoulder and cursed again, another two dozen on the opposite.
It was an ambush, and though the caravan had superior numbers, it was drawn out in a long line. By the time Menelik’s men could reach them to help, many of his brothers would be dead.
“What’s going on?”
Jonathan turned to see David and the others guarding the Ark arrive. “What are you doing here?”
“We heard shouting,” replied David. “I thought it was the signal.”
Jonathan shook his head, drawing his sword then pointing it at the raiders now cresting the ridge and rushing toward them. “We’re about to be attacked, you fools!”
A roar went up and his men split into two ranks, one each to face the bandits. Arrows from several of those skilled in archery were loosed, but they were few, most firstborn of Jerusalem preferring the sword to the less honorable bow.
“The cowards are running!” yelled David.
Jonathan readied himself for the onslaught, no intent to retreat evident, and glanced behind him to find the same. But as his eyes returned to the enemy he faced, he spotted what David had.
Menelik’s men were abandoning them, racing for the ships.
And to his horror, taking the cart containing the Ark with them.
“We have to stop them!”
But it was too late.
He swung his blade, catching his opponent in the chest and knocking him from his saddle, then pushed forward, realizing there was little he could do now. He made eye contact with the next of his enemy and shifted in his saddle as his horse, well trained and experienced in battle, snorted in anticipation.
His opponent swung and Jonathan parried the blow, leaning back in his saddle as the deflected blade slid up his own and over his head harmlessly. He righted himself, turning to reengage when Zimri finished the man off before he had a chance to regain his balance.
“They’re trying to cut us off!”
He checked to his right and cursed at the sight, the caravan now in the distance, inside the city, the gentle slope that led to the port giving him an unfettered view of Menelik’s men rushing their leader to the safety of the sea.
Though tempted to condemn them for their cowardice, they were merely doing their job. If the roles were reversed, and it was King Solomon that he was protecting, he too would leave Menelik’s men behind to deal with the threat while leading his liege to safety.
Yet the roles weren’t reversed.
It was he and his friends left to die.
“Regroup! Archers to the center!” he ordered, the half-dozen masters of the bow falling back behind the rows of cavalry, shielded from the enemies’ swords. “Target the left flank! Pick your targets!”
Arrows flew as his men closed ranks, the heft of their steeds, pressed together, creating an impenetrable wall against the raiders, all reduced to battling by sword except the archers, who quickly thinned the enemy on their left flank.
To the point they broke ranks and turned tail, rushing back up the ridge from whence they had come. Jonathan smiled, turning to face those who would keep them from the sea and the Ark. “Archers, target the right flank!” He motioned for those defending the now abandoned left flank to follow him. “To the sea!”
They charged forward, penetrating the dwindling numbers they faced, Jonathan delivering one last fatal blow before breaking through and racing toward the port ahead. He could see the boats being prepared, Menelik’s men quickly loading their cargo with the help of workers no doubt generously rewarded by the wealthy man.
“Retreat!” shouted someone behind him, and he stood in his saddle, staring back to see what was happening, and gasped in horror. Dozens more were now on the ridges, pouring into the battle, the remaining firstborns now racing after him.
He had split their forces, a mistake his enemy had no doubt counted on.
You fool!
Yet he had no choice. He couldn’t let the Ark leave without him. It would be an unforgivable sin. But his decision had left the others weakened and vulnerable, all their provisions and cargo, including gifts for the queen, Menelik’s mother, now vulnerable.
Things can be replaced. The best and brightest of Jerusalem can’t.
He waved for them to follow, his own voice joining the call to retreat, those left behind abandoning the fight and rushing to join the others, leaving the heavily laden carts behind.
A small price to pay for his friends’ lives, though he wondered if Solomon would feel the same way.
The bandits immediately set upon their bounty, forgetting those they had just engaged, their purpose not to kill, but to loot caravans foolish enough to fall into their trap.
Yet it was a bold move. The caravan had been large in numbers, though the wealth on display must have been too tempting a target.
Thank God Menelik’s men took the Ark with them, even if it was unknowingly.
He stared ahead and cried out at the sight before him. The first of the boats was already departing, no doubt with Menelik aboard, its sail full, God blessing them with a good wind, the oars in the water barely needed.
“Hurry! We can’t let them leave!”
They charged through the city gates and through the streets busy with merchants and travelers, their way blocked on too many occasions as more boats departed. As they finally approached the harbor, his brothers left behind now safely inside the city, the raiders unlikely to pursue them, he stood in his saddle, waving at the departing boats, the last of Menelik’s men pulling from the dock.
“Stop!” he cried, collapsing in his saddle as he spotted the cart he and his father had used to steal the Ark, now empty, its covered cargo nowhere to be seen.
What have I done?
He spotted Menelik at the stern of the lead boat, waving to them. “Take the boats, follow us!”
“You must wait! You have the Ark!”
Menelik shook his head, pressing a cupped hand to his ear. “What?”
“You have the Ark of the Covenant!”
But it was no use. The man couldn’t hear him, and even if he did, what could he expect of him? There was no turning back, as the risk was too great, and what possible incentive would he have to wait for them?
Their choice was clear, and it was unfortunately the only one left to them.
“To the boats!” he ordered, the firstborns rushing onto the remaining boats, their horses loaded onto the decks as the sails were unfurled, the oars manned.
Yet there was no wind. He turned, staring after Menelik’s boats, their sails full, the distance rapidly growing between them as the others rowed as hard as they could, none trained for the task, the crews provided by the boats’ owners merely there to man the tiller and navigate.
Please God, give us the wind like you did Menelik!
But the sails remained empty as the boats containing the most important possession of the Jewish people disappeared on the horizon, God already delivering His judgment, and finding him and the others unworthy of His help.
Forgive me for what I have done.
He stared up at the heavens, dropping to his knees as he clasped his hands in front of him, tears streaking his cheeks.
“Please, God, punish me for what I have done, but do not punish my people! They still require your protection!”
The response was deafening in its silence. The sails remained empty, and Menelik was out of sight, with the future of the Jewish people unknowingly in his possession.
Never again to see the lands of his people.
19 |
Granger/Trinh Residence St. Paul, Maryland Present Day
Gregory Milton knocked on the door of the apartment, checking the number again. He had never been here before, visiting students at their homes not exactly encouraged by Human Resources.
But this was different.
He
had asked Tommy Granger to commit a crime.
A small one.
Though still something that could throw them all in jail.
Yet he had no choice. He had to know where his friend was, and Tommy was the only person he knew who could find out quickly and easily. The kid was a genius on the computer, could hack pretty much any system out there, and had been arrested in his youth for doing just that—he had hacked the Department of Defense.
The door opened and Tommy’s girlfriend, and one of Acton’s grad students, Mai Trinh, smiled at him. “Dean Milton. Please, come in.”
She moved aside and he stepped in, removing his shoes before following her deeper inside. Tommy was at his laptop and gave him a wave. “Hiya, sir. Just in time.”
Milton advanced, forgetting his earlier misgivings. “You found out where they went?”
“You could say that. And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Milton’s heart rate picked up a few beats. “Why? Where are they?”
“Their cellphones are inactive now, but the last towers they pinged off of were in some place called Aksum.”
“Ethiopia!”
Tommy smiled at him. “Say, you’re good. Mai had to tell me where that was.”
Milton dropped into a chair, shaking his head. “Ethiopia! Why the hell would they go there?”
Tommy shrugged. “You got me. Want me to hack their accounts? Maybe there’s something there.”
Milton was tempted, but shook his head. “No, that would be violating their privacy.” He sighed. “Why couldn’t it have been Berlin or Paris? Then I wouldn’t be worrying.” He stared at Tommy’s laptop, a set of phone numbers listed.
“What’s that?”
“Just their latest calls. Do you want me to print them out for you?”
Milton shook his head. “No, let’s try to respect what remains of their privacy.” He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment as he tried to figure out where the fine line of legitimate concern and invasion of privacy sat. “Umm, can you set up something on the Internet to monitor for any news coming out of Ethiopia? You know, anything that might suggest the shit’s hit the fan with them again?”
Tommy cracked his knuckles with a flourish. “That’s my jam.”
“Uh huh.”
“Do you want me to monitor the Dark Web too?”
“You mean that underground Internet thing?”
“Yes.”
Milton nodded. “Do whatever’s legal.”
Tommy eyed him. “Why? We just broke the law checking their phones.”
Milton groaned then waved his hands in front of him. “I don’t want to know anything else. Forget I asked.”
“Copy that.”
He said his goodbyes, but before Mai could close the door behind him, he heard Tommy’s fingers attacking the keyboard.
And smiled.
Good boy.
20 |
Acton/Palmer Residence St. Paul, Maryland
Dawit Ganno held his breath as their New York City operative, Asrat Fida, expertly disabled the security alarm in the professors’ residence.
“You’re sure nobody was notified?”
“Positive. It gives you enough time to enter your code and I was able to disable it before that.”
“So, you have been making good use of your time here.”
Fida frowned. “There’s not much else to do.”
Ganno detected a hint of snark. “Remember, you’re here doing God’s work.”
Fida said nothing, instead heading deeper into the house. “How about we get this over with. I may have stopped the security company from knowing we’re here, but that doesn’t mean a neighbor didn’t see us.”
Ganno grunted, Fida’s point correct. “What are we looking for? I’m not used to an American household.”
“Anything electronic, or any papers. iPhones, iPads, tablets, eReaders, laptops, desktops—”
“You realize most of those words mean nothing to me.”
Fida nodded. “You look for papers, I’ll look for devices.”
“Very well.”
The search didn’t take long, Fida returning to the living area within minutes, emptyhanded. “They must have taken everything with them.”
Ganno’s eyes narrowed. “Who takes a computer with them? Aren’t they kind of bulky?”
Fida chuckled. “You really are in the Dark Ages, aren’t you? They probably have laptops. Portable computers. You just disconnect it and put it in a bag.”
“Ahh, yes, I’ve seen those before. I didn’t realize they were as useful as a computer.”
“They are now.” Fida gestured at the home in general. “There’s nothing here to check.”
“What about their email, I think you call it? Can you get into that? Isn’t that stored on the Internet?”
“Sometimes, but we’d need to know their email addresses, and depending on how secure they are, we could just trigger an alert.” Fida shook his head. “I think it’s best we leave well enough alone.”
“We need to know if they told anyone.”
Fida shrugged. “We listened in with the parabolic on their dinner with their friends last night, and they said nothing. I think they’re going to keep their promise to Father Amanuel.”
“They better. I really don’t want to have to kill anyone but them.” He pointed at a pile of papers sitting on the kitchen counter. “I found these. Take a look. I can’t read English very well.”
Fida stepped over and quickly leafed through the pages, his eyes widening. “These look like they’re for the equipment they referred to.” His eyes narrowed as he continued to examine them, taking photos of each with his phone. “It looks like it’s equipment for some sort of containment system.” He looked at Ganno. “Is there something wrong with the Ark?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, judging by these papers and these measurements, it looks like they’ve been asked by Father Amanuel to build something to help protect the Ark.”
“Protect it how?”
“It looks like this system would control the temperature and humidity.”
Ganno’s jaw dropped slightly. “So, that’s why he left. I’ve been trying to figure out why the Keeper would leave that which he has sworn to protect with his life. But if something had happened to it, or was going to happen to it, then protecting it might mean seeking help.”
Fida pursed his lips then exhaled. “So, we don’t have to worry about them.”
Ganno shook his head. “On the contrary. It merely changes the timing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Now we wait until they finish their job.”
“But they’re good people, doing a good thing.”
“It doesn’t matter. They know the secret, and that can’t be allowed to stand.”
“But do they? For all we know, Father Amanuel didn’t tell them what it was. They might be just going to show him how everything works, then leave, never knowing what they’re preserving.”
Ganno’s head bobbed slowly as he scratched his nose. “This is possible, but we would need to be sure. If the professors enter the church, then they must die.”
21 |
Leroux/White Residence, Fairfax Towers Falls Church, Virginia
“That’s why I’m glad I can’t have any social media accounts.”
CIA Analyst Supervisor Chris Leroux rolled over and faced his girlfriend, CIA Agent Sherrie White. “Why? You don’t trust yourself?”
She grinned. “With my propensity for calling out stupid? I’d be unemployable, at least within the government.”
Leroux laughed, his eyes drooping from the post-coital bliss he was still enjoying. Sherrie had just returned from a mission, and whenever she did, she was wired and horny. A potent combination that he always enjoyed the benefits of, especially when he didn’t need to be at work in a few hours.
And today he didn’t.
They had all day to enjoy the treasures each had to offer, t
hough he was certain he was getting the better end of the bargain.
“Yeah, you might be right. That’s why I shut mine all down. That and the fact I had almost no friends, so it was just depressing.”
Sherrie gave him a quick peck. “If I were allowed, I would have been your friend.”
“You and my mom. Yay!”
She laughed. “I’ve read some of the stuff your Mom posts. She’s the type us Millennials would dox if she were found out.”
“She just tells her friends what she thinks about things. Unfortunately, she doesn’t understand privacy settings.”
“It’s ridiculous, though, right? You’ve got people destroying careers and lives because of things they did ten, twenty, thirty years ago. These same people demand that people change, then claim that because somebody said something thirty years ago that was racist or homophobic, they must still be racist or homophobic. They never consider that the person, like most of society, has changed. Instead, they’re out for blood.” She sighed. “My poor boy, Liam. Sexiest old dude I know getting raked over the coals for something that happened forty years ago.”
Leroux grunted. “How did I know this was all about him?”
“He’s my boy, you know it.”
“I think you have daddy issues.”
She gave him a toothy smile. “Who’s your daddy? You want to ask me it, don’t you?”
“Well, not now.”
She put a leg behind her head. “Now?”
His eyes bulged. “Umm…”
The acrobatics ended. “What comes around goes around though.”
“It does tend to do that.”
“I hope some of these trolls that are demanding vengeance for things said decades ago get their comeuppance eventually. Someday, there will be something considered politically incorrect that they make fun of today, and I just hope they get their lives destroyed for it.”
“That’s pretty harsh. Like what? It’s pretty much taboo to make fun of anybody for anything now.”
She shook her head. “You can’t make fun of anyone for their race, color, creed, religion, sexual orientation, whether they’re too tall or too short or handicapped in some way. But there’s one thing you can still make fun of, with impunity, that I think will change eventually, and there will be millions of these hypocrites with examples of it literally peppering their Instagram accounts and Facebook pages.”
Keepers of the Lost Ark Page 7