Keepers of the Lost Ark

by J. Robert Kennedy

  The team roared with laughter at Atlas’ expense, one-liners zinging back and forth before Dawson put up a hand, cutting them off.

  “Get some rack time, ladies, we’re going to be in the thick of it sooner than you know.” He rose to head for the cockpit, but stopped for one last jab. “And Atlas, since Niner lost your teddy bear, I suggest you snuggle with him. He’s about the right size.”

  Atlas grinned as the others laughed. “Come over here, little one, Papa likes to spoon.”

  45 |

  Aksum, Ethiopia

  There are a lot of white boys here today.

  Hassen Tesfay sat in his truck, parked outside the small airport in Aksum, an airport not known for tourists, and certainly not groups of four to ten men arriving together on chartered planes and transports.

  Something was up, and he had no doubt it had everything to do with the contract he was now on. His handler had never told him who he was working for when hiring him, though he was certain it was the American government, most likely the CIA.

  He didn’t care. It was money. Good money in a place like this. It fed his wife and children—three sons and two daughters—as well as his mother.

  But the work was dangerous. Extremely dangerous in a country like Ethiopia. Here people would kill you for your shoes or your phone, though he had heard the same was true in America.

  Now there was the dream. He hoped eventually he’d be able to ask his handler to move him and his family there once he had proven himself useful. The possibility had been suggested when he was recruited, but nothing had been mentioned since, and he was afraid to bring it up lest his handler drop him.

  He was stuck between keeping the job that could get him killed, or asking for the implied promise to be fulfilled, and risking losing the job that kept his family alive. And if he were found out? They would all be dead for certain.

  And that was why he had never told his wife what he did, how he kept them fed. If she told the wrong person, it would all be over.

  He watched a little girl walk by, one hand held by her mother, the other occupied by a candy hardened around a small stick, the little girl licking at it furiously.

  He smiled, the precious thing reminding him of his youngest daughter.

  He snapped some more photos of another set of new arrivals, then squinted as his primary target strolled into the sunlight, a group of men climbing out of their car and embracing him as if he had been away on a long journey.

  Yet Ganno had only been gone for a few days.

  Apparently, these men were rarely separated.

  They climbed into their car, Ganno getting the prized passenger seat, then pulled into traffic. Tesfay started his engine, cranked the wheel, and was about to hit the gas when a pickup truck skidded to a halt, cutting him off. A man leaned out the window and wagged a finger at him, then produced an AK-47. Tesfay shoved his door open and rolled out onto the pavement, covering his head, as the assault rifle opened fire, sending the crowds screaming and fleeing in all directions.

  Then it stopped, his assailants roaring away in a cloud of dust. He pushed to his feet, assessing himself for damage, then checked to see if anyone else had been hurt.

  None.

  Except his poor truck.

  Steam hissed from the engine compartment, and as he approached, he cursed at the sight, the couple dozen rounds emptied into the hood having done their job. He climbed back inside and activated his comm as he collected his things.

  “Control, this is Whiskey-Alpha-Four. I think I’ve been made, over.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Umm, the thirty rounds in my engine block.”

  Control chuckled. “Yeah, that might suggest you’ve been noticed. Did you ID the car?”

  “Yeah, it’s a white Toyota sedan traveling south from my current position. He’s probably only a couple of hundred meters from here.”

  “Stand by.” There was a pause, though only for a moment. “Okay, we’ve got him for now. Get another vehicle and we’ll guide you in.”

  “Roger that. I’m going to upload some photos to you. There are a lotta white boys here today. Tough guys, if you know what I mean.”

  “Mercenaries?”

  “They look the type. Some Middle Eastern looking gentlemen as well that match the profile. I’m guessing whatever is going on is attracting some outside interest.”

  “Any indication they’re following our target?”

  “Negative, but maybe they’ve got eyes in the sky too?”

  “Or they’re just pre-positioning, awaiting intel. They probably know our professors are already there, just not where.”

  “Copy that.” He spotted a group of soldiers rolling up on his position. “Control, I’m drawing attention. I’m going to find a secure location then upload those photos. Whiskey-Alpha-Four, out.”

  One big break is all I need.

  But if big breaks were easy to come by, everyone would be getting them. Captain Mussa had joined the military as an escape from the never-ending cycle of poverty his family had been trapped in for generations, and to take advantage of an uncle who had made out like a bandit after the civil war and was able to secure his nephew a position as an officer.

  The gateway to riches.

  Or so he had been told.

  The lion’s share of any bribe went to the highest officers, and as he climbed through the ranks, his share kept improving. But the real money was in discovering some score where those caught were so desperate, they offered princely sums for their freedom.

  The big break that could change a life forever.

  He was still waiting for his.

  Gunfire in the distance had him standing upright in his technical, his sergeant firing up the engine.

  “Sounds like someone just emptied an AK into someone.”

  Mussa agreed. “Sounds like it’s coming from the airport. Could be trouble. Let’s roll, see what we find.”

  It only took a couple of minutes to arrive on the scene, the only evidence of any wrongdoing the smoking engine of a truck, the apparent victim of the AK, his fellow countrymen already going about their daily business, whatever had happened forgotten.

  And it didn’t surprise him.

  Gunfire was simply a way of life in Ethiopia. It wasn’t as bad as it had been in the past, but to call this a peaceful country would mean one was a liar or simply ignorant. He was neither. This was probably some traffic dispute gone wrong, or a message being sent to the owner. Either way, there would be no financial gain today.

  Heavy gunfire erupted farther down the street and he rose in his seat to investigate. Two groups of heavily armed men were firing on each other, both hidden behind sets of vehicles, both definitely not local.

  That meant foreign money.

  If they survived the day.

  “Call in the rest of the unit. This is going to get ugly.”

  46 |

  Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “Any indication where he’s heading?”

  Tong shook her head. “Just the general direction, which is toward the church M. Giasson identified as that of Father Amanuel.”

  Leroux stepped closer to the displays curving across the front of the operations center, his hands on his hips as he monitored the drone footage. “Okay, get that church’s location to Delta along with any intel we have on it. Pictures of the area, etcetera. I want them going in with as much intel as we can give them.”

  Child blasted some air through his lips. “We don’t even know if that’s where he’s going. We came up with nada on Father Amanuel’s arrival and the professors, so we have no idea if they’re actually there.”

  Leroux glanced at him. “It’s an educated guess. They’re at least in the area, so if we can put our people close to where they need to be, they can act quickly when we know for sure.” He stared at the footage, telling them nothing useful. They needed to know where the Ark was hidden. Right now, Ganno was probably heading
for the vicinity, but that just meant more hostiles Delta might have to deal with. And Tesfay had reported that additional foreign elements were arriving in the area already, which meant more guns, which meant more risk to their people.

  “We need better intel. Get someone in a room with Mr. Fida. He must have a contact number. Maybe it’s something we can ping and triangulate like a satphone.”

  Tong nodded. “I’m on it.”

  He turned to Child. “What about those photos Tesfay sent us? Any luck IDing the people?”

  Child shook his head. “We haven’t received them yet.”

  “What? Do we have a drone still there?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Show me his last known position.”

  Child brought up the footage, the drone repositioning over Aksum before focusing on the road in front of the airport.

  “Holy shit!”

  47 |

  Aksum, Ethiopia

  Tesfay ducked as gunfire erupted all around him. His head swiveled, searching for shelter, but finding none that wasn’t already teeming with terrified shoppers, and he wasn’t willing to push one of them out of the way to save his own skin.

  He was better than that.

  And it would probably get him killed.

  Two groups of the new arrivals were battling it out. Who, he wasn’t sure, but they were well armed with plenty of ammo. Better equipped than the Ethiopian regulars that had rolled up on the situation, probably initially to investigate the attack on his truck.

  There was a pause in the shooting, one of those unusual moments where everyone ran out of ammo at the same time, or were all taking cover from each other.

  Whatever the cause, it gave him a moment of clarity from his position, now prone in the dirt.

  A little girl was crying.

  He turned to find her, then cursed when he saw the child from earlier, her candy still gripped in her hand, but her mother nowhere in sight, as she stood in the middle of the road, in the middle of the three battling parties. He pushed to his feet and rushed toward her, holding his hands over his head as best he could while at a crouch, hoping the shooters would recognize his actions as stupidity rather than hostility.

  And all hell broke loose once again, the brief reprieve over.

  He dropped to his knees, pleading for the little girl to come toward him, but she stood frozen in place, tears staining her cheeks while her mouth continued to work the candy between gasped cries.

  Please, God, protect us both.

  He rushed forward and scooped her up, then spun around, racing for the cover of the vehicles lining the road. Something hit him in the shoulder and he cried out, dropping to a knee, his bag containing all his equipment falling to the ground. He reached for it, but bullets tore into the pavement only feet away.

  Save the girl, idiot.

  He struggled to his feet then stumbled the last few paces, dropping between two cars.

  But it wasn’t safe, stray bullets tearing into the metal and tires. He fumbled forward, the girl in one arm, his other aching from the hit he had taken, then spotted an alleyway. On adrenaline alone, he rose and sprinted for the shelter it would provide, the darkness swallowing him up, the deafening rattle of the weapons immediately muted. He put the girl down then pointed at her. “You stay here, okay?”

  She nodded, the candy back in her mouth, the flow of tears easing.

  He checked his shoulder to find a hole through it, a matching one on his back. A through-and-through.

  Thank God for small miracles.

  He tore off his sleeve and tied a tourniquet over the wound using his teeth, good hand, and a lot of painful gasps.

  He’d live.

  Now for the really stupid part.

  He needed his bag. It had his weapon, but more importantly, it had his camera, and all the critical intel his handlers were waiting for. He headed back for the street and the gunfire, then assessed the situation from relative safety. He could see his bag, too close to the middle of the road for his liking, though only paces from the vehicles that could provide him with some cover.

  To his right was a group he recognized from earlier, three Middle Eastern-looking men hiding behind an SUV, their number half of what they had arrived with. To his left was another group he recognized as well, all white but tanned, their numbers equally diminished.

  Then there was the military, farther still to his left, pouring lead on both the warring parties, a few of their number bleeding on the road.

  It was a Mexican standoff where no one seemed to care if they survived.

  What is it that’s so important you don’t care if you die?

  His handler hadn’t told him what this was all about, or at least the truth about what it was about. As far as he had been told, this was about recovering two professors, an American and a Brit, who were in trouble. But mercenary groups from around the world didn’t show up to rescue professors when American Special Forces were already on the job.

  No, something else was going on here. These men were motivated by money, and the amount had to be significant for them to be willing to die for a chance at it.

  He rushed from the safety of the alley and dove between the two cars he had used as cover earlier. He crawled to the edge of their tires and peered out at the gun battle still raging. He reached for the bag, stretching as far as he could, but came up short by only an arm’s length.

  He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and said a silent prayer.

  Then surged forward, grabbing the bag, then dragging it back toward the cars.

  Someone noticed, the ground erupting beside him.

  He rolled sideways, his back hitting the tire of one of the cars, blocking his retreat, then closed his eyes as the wall of lead reached him.

  Then suddenly stopped.

  He opened one eye to see the last of the Middle Eastern men eliminated, the white men now battling the military exclusively, both groups to his left. He leaped to his feet and returned to the alley, gripping his bag. He peered into the darkness to see the little girl still standing there, concentrating on her candy, then grabbed his camera and began uploading the photos using his satphone before someone managed to succeed in their attempts to kill him today.

  The guns fell silent, somebody finally victorious, and he was willing to bet it was the military. He peered out from his cover, confirming his suspicions, the soldiers now moving in on their opponents’ positions.

  Something tugged on his pant leg.

  He looked down to see the little girl standing there, her candy finished, her arms stretched upward. He picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “How about we find your mommy, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Mussa stood over the final remaining hostile, a white man with a dark tan, now lying on the ground, disarmed, his leg oozing blood as his comrades lay either dead or dying around him.

  “What was this about?”

  The man glared at him. “I’m not telling you anything.”

  Mussa drove the heel of his boot into the man’s wound and he cried out in agony as all color drained from his face. “Want to talk now? I’ve got all day.” He eased up on the pressure, relief washing over his prisoner’s face.

  “Fine, dammit, I’ll tell you. But you’ve got to let me go.”

  Mussa shook his head. “You’re in no position to negotiate.”

  “When you hear what I have to say, you’ll change your mind.” The man beckoned him closer. Mussa glanced about, his men covering the area, all but his sergeant not within earshot.

  “What?”

  “It’s worth tens of millions to whoever finds it first.”

  Mussa’s heart hammered as he realized this could be the break he had been waiting for all these years. “What is it?”

  “Do I have your word?”

  He nodded. And why not, it wasn’t as if he had to keep it.

  “It’s the Ark.”

  Hi
s eyes narrowed, disappointed. “The what?”

  “The Ark of the Covenant. You know, like in the Bible.”

  “What about it?”

  “Somebody found it.”

  Mussa thought for a moment, trying to think of what the man might be talking about. He had never read the Bible, though considered himself Christian like most in Ethiopia. Then it dawned on him what the man meant, and it sent a surge of excitement through his body. “You mean the Ark of Zion? The Tabota Seyen? That which contains the word of God?”

  The man shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Mussa pressed a little harder and the man gasped.

  “I’m telling the truth, dammit! It’s south of here, that’s all I know.”

  “That hardly helps me.”

  “Just follow the others like my team. God knows there’s enough here that someone has to figure it out.”

  He placed two bullets in the man’s chest.

  “Why’d you do that?” asked his sergeant.

  “If he tells anyone else, we’ll have to share it with more people.”

  His sergeant chuckled. “I like the way you think. But where are we going to find it?”

  “We’ll head south, like he said. There are some churches there I know claim they have the Ark. Let’s get in the area, look for white people with guns.” He surveyed the scene, including his surviving men. “We’re going to need more firepower. Gather who you can trust, but tell them nothing. This is our big payday, my friend, and I don’t want to risk losing it for the lack of guns.”

  48 |

  Unknown Location South of Aksum, Ethiopia

  Acton stood back and surveyed their work. Today, he was just muscle, like the other men. This was Laura’s show, and she had them all working like a well-oiled machine. The generator was in place and operational, and the base of their climate controlled portable preservation chamber was ready.