Carpathian (9 page)

“You are not to bring your normal religious zeal into this mission. Get to Rome, evaluate, and report back.”

“General, I know I am considered the religious laughingstock around here, but anyone who believes that our religion has nothing to do with how we are viewed, or even perceived in our world, especially our near world, well, that’s a bit naive on your part. Our heritage is what makes us strong and any evidence of that heritage we can uncover will go a long way to proving we should reign in this part of the world.”

General Shamni slowly stood and placed his thick arms on his desk and then leaned forward. “Reign, Colonel Ben-Nevin? We are just trying to survive here. If we can be friends with our neighbors through cooperation and mutual respect then that is our goal. Not to point to them and say,
‘See, we were right and you were wrong and God is on our side.
’” This time the general smiled but the gesture was not meant to be sincere in the least. The general hated Ben-Nevin and the colonel knew it. “If there’s one thing our young state has learned, Colonel, is the very real fact that God has never been on anyone’s side. As a matter of fact I have come to the conclusion that if he ever was, he’s cut the apron strings on us—as the Americans like to say. We are too far along to be killing people over these ancient tales.”

This time Ben-Nevin smiled. “This stuff is the manna of our history, proof that we were meant to be here. If Operation Ramesses could prove the world wrong in that regard, why we could—”

“Enough!” This time the hand came down and its impact shook the desk lamp. “Colonel, you have pushed and pushed on this very closed loop matter far too long, and the funny thing is I couldn’t give you the details of Ramesses even if I knew them. Our policy on the operation has been in place since the time of David Ben-Gurion. And your assertion that Ramesses can save the situation in the Middle East is highly dubious at best, especially since you know nothing of its details. From what I understand Ramesses would do, at least according to our experts, is ignite a wave of religious fundamentalism the likes of which the world has never seen. That cannot happen and will not happen as long as this administration is in place—and every administration of whatever political stripe after. Now get to Rome.”

Ben-Nevin gave the general a halfhearted salute and then turned on his heel. The general didn’t see the small smile lift his thin mustache.

“Sergeant Rosen!”

“Sir?”

The general looked up as his assistant popped her head inside the door.

“Get me the prime minister,” was all he said as he inadvertently picked up the field report again and cursed his eyes for reading the words. He didn’t acknowledge his assistant as she ducked out of the office.

“The prime minister is on line one, General.”

With a minimum of motion the general snatched up the phone and hit the flashing button.

“Mr. Prime Minister, a trail to our heritage may have been discovered by unknown sources.” The general paused to rub the throbbing that had just started coursing through his temples. “Sir, we have a problem—a three-thousand-year-old nightmare from the past kind of problem.”

After the general’s conversation with the prime minister’s office was completed, exactly thirty-two minutes later the elite commando arm of the Israeli Defense Forces; the Sayeret
—
one of the best trained killing forces in the world—went on full combat alert.

*   *   *

As the colonel stepped from the general’s office he looked around the deserted hallway and then stepped to the nearest door where he took out his private cell phone and punched in a preprogrammed number.

“There has been movement on Project Ramesses. I’m not sure, but the report was generated by General Shamni’s wunderkind inside Vatican City.” The colonel nodded at a young man as he quickly slipped by Ben-Nevin with a file report. He waited as the man disappeared. “Look, if I do this my career in Mossad is over. If I get caught that will be the least of my problems. My father had his life ended when he discovered the old antiquities in China and reported them to his superiors. I will not make the same mistake. You have your religious principles and I have mine, and my principles include enough wealth to retire somewhere that the general, the prime minister, and any other left-wing government official cannot track me down and hang me for this small betrayal. I’ll get the location of Ramesses, but then I’m on my own. You can take your holy relics and I’ll take what’s important to me. Then we’re finished … I will no longer be a citizen of this country and that is where you and your Knesset friends come in. You make sure that after I kill the Gypsy major, that Mossad soon forgets the name Ben-Nevin.”

The small smile slowly made its reappearance and then Ben-Nevin closed the cell phone. The mystery his father uncovered that night long ago in Hong Kong had finally come home to roost and Colonel Avis Ben-Nevin was finally going to collect payment for lies and cover-ups by the Israeli government as far back as three thousand years. As he started to walk away to pack his bags for the last time as an Israeli agent, the colonel heard the yelling coming from the general’s office.

GOLD CITY PAWN SHOP, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

The 2005 Jeep Cherokee bounced into the parking lot beside the Gold City Pawn Shop. Luckily the parking spaces for the business were near empty due to the earliness of the hour—even in Vegas people slowed down pawning their lives away at six
A.M.

Alice Hamilton took a deep breath before opening her door. She looked at the package of research material piled on the passenger seat next to her: the culmination of sixty-three years’ worth of research and another lifetime of bitter disagreement with men Alice Hamilton respected more than any two men in the world—Niles Compton and Garrison Lee. They both had always failed to see the direct connection she proposed between the magnificent animals she proclaimed had once lived amongst man and the changing theory of how exactly a few of the more celebrated and ancient biblical battles were really won. Her theory she knew always lacked the necessary proof so an Event mission had never been called. There just wasn’t enough evidence, both Compton and the late Senator Lee had told her. Oh, she knew both Niles and Garrison wanted to believe in the animals, and she thought they did. As a matter of fact she was positive Garrison believed it as he saw the relic himself, but being the bureaucrats they were they were handcuffed about calling an Event with such a small sampling of evidence. Alice had sworn to Garrison Lee that she would continue to search for that proof and let Niles decide if it was enough.

Alice set her lips and then reached for the nine-inch-thick folder, and unlike the other red-bordered top secret folders used at the group, this folder was a standard size manila type—nothing special, and surely nothing secret—until this morning that is.

She stepped from the Cherokee and made her way to the glass-encased front door of the Gold City Pawn Shop. Before grasping the old-fashioned thumb depression plate she looked closely at it. As soon as she took hold of the handle and her right thumb went down upon the thumb plate, Europa, the Cray Corporation supercomputer, would read the minute valleys and swirls of her thumbprint. That image would be studied by no fewer than five security men inside the building at all times. Five was the minimum number of U.S. Marines, Army, Air Force, and naval security personnel needed to secure and guard Gate 2 of the most protected federal reservation in the United States—the Event Group complex, the home to Department 5656.

Alice took hold of the handle, knowing that Europa would send an automatic report to the Security Department notifying them that she was at Gate 2 and would soon be passed on to the complex itself. Alice only hoped that at six
A.M.
Jack Collins and Carl Everett, the two men in charge of that department, were out running or eating breakfast. She opened the door and stepped into the pawn shop.

*   *   *

Captain Carl Everett had showered, shaved, and dressed after his four-thirty
A.M.
run around the indoor track facilities on Level 18. On most mornings the captain was joined by the director of Department 5656 security, Colonel Jack Collins, but today, as well as for the past several weeks, the colonel had been missing from their morning runs. As a matter of fact, Everett had noticed that Jack Collins was MIA at most anything not directly related to his military duties at the Group, and Everett knew the reasons behind it.

The captain now stood at the door to the main security office on Level 8. He took a deep breath in anticipation of a conversation that was weeks in coming. He went in.

The staff duty officer this morning was Sergeant Gabriel Sanchez, an Air Force enlisted man now in his second year of duty at Group. He looked up from his shift paperwork just as Everett stepped inside the still quiet office.

“Tell me he’s still in bed and hasn’t reported yet,” Everett said as he noticed the closed door to the colonel’s office.

Sanchez slowly shook his head in the negative. He used his ballpoint pen to point at Jack’s door.

“Never left. He’s been in his office all night and Europa says he’s been logged on his terminal since 2250 hours last night.”

A grim and determined line formed at Everett’s mouth as he moved past the several rows of desks yet to be filled by the day shift of the Security Department in less than an hour. He figured now would be the best time to confront an old friend about a serious problem, and that problem was Jack Collins himself.

“Sergeant, take ten and get some joe down in the cafeteria,” Everett said as he paused at Jack’s closed door.

“I don’t drink coffee, Captain, I—”

The words fell short as the sergeant saw the stern look on the captain’s face.

“But a donut would be nice,” Sanchez finished as he stood and left the office.

Everett without hesitation knocked twice quickly and then went through the door.

“Good morning, Jack, restful night?” Carl said as he perched himself on the front edge of the colonel’s desk.

Jack was studying a printout from Europa and still hadn’t looked up at the U.S. Navy SEAL and a man that had, over the many years, became the colonel’s closest friend.

The colonel, without looking up from his printout, replied, “Restful enough, Carl.” Collins finally looked up as if he had been waiting for this conversation as much as the captain had. Jack laid a yellow highlighter next to the printout and then waited for Everett’s size thirteen shoe to fall.

“Anything?”

Jack held Everett’s gaze, his face neutral, and the captain couldn’t read what was behind the mask. He was relieved when Collins visibly relaxed.

“No.” Jack lowered his head and folded the printout and placed it in his desk drawer and then looked at his watch.

“Jack, let me in, will you, you can’t do this on your own.”

“The murder of my sister by someone in government service is what I consider a personal matter, Carl. As much as I appreciate the offer, this is something that I have to do on my own. Can you understand that?” Jack’s blue eyes bore in on Everett’s and didn’t waver.

“No, Jack, I can’t. I can’t justify you doing this alone. We all knew and liked Lynn. I think Sarah McIntire, Will Mendenhall, and Jason Ryan, and even this dumb swabby captain need to be a part of tracking down whoever did this to your sister. It’s not just you, Jack.”

Collins once more with flair looked at his watch and then back at Everett. “I appreciate the offer, but no. I have to do this and will not risk one more individual of this organization to track her killer down. Stay out of it.” Once more the watch was glanced at. “We have a departmental meeting in an hour. I have work in another department so I’ll need you to cover that staff meeting.”

Everett watched as Collins stood, placed a hand on Everett’s shoulder.

“The lives of you, Sarah, Will, or even Ryan will not be put at risk.” He looked directly into Carl’s eyes. “I appreciate your offer, but this has to be done without you.”

Everett watched Jack leave the office without another word. As he stood from the top of Jack’s desk he noticed that the colonel hadn’t logged off from Europa. With little shame and far less hesitation Carl leaned over and looked at the computer monitor. As Everett saw the picture on the screen his heart leaped in his chest. Colonel Henri Farbeaux was the face staring back at him. The Event Group’s most feared enemy and the world’s greatest antiquities thief had been in custody as early as the month before right here at the Event Group facility. Circumstances however soon dictated that Farbeaux be set free due to personal reasons between Jack and Sarah. The entire incident was kept quiet out of respect for the couple’s privacy. He saw the flashing message just under the picture of the arch-criminal.
“Message received from Avignon, France, at 0235 hours this date, Farbeaux, Henri R.”

Everett reached out and tapped the power button for the computer’s monitor and then slowly stood and rubbed a hand over his chin. To have an open communication with a man the FBI considered the second most dangerous man in the world and speaking with him was a treasonable offense. Everett knew Farbeaux had been blamed for many despicable things in the past in his work to gather the world’s greatest antiquities, but thus far he and Colonel Collins could come up with no concrete evidence that he had ever done an American citizen harm. He realized that Henri could be, and on occasion was, a cold-blooded killer, but only when the need arose and only if his life depended upon his aggressive actions. For Henri Farbeaux killing was just too expensive a commodity for his line of work. As he turned for the door Everett became more afraid than ever for Collins.

“What are you and old Henri up to, Jack?”

*   *   *

Alice stood at the security arch leading to the vaults on Level 63. The entire level was dedicated to artifacts that were deemed interesting on an individual basis, but they were also items that held little value to the security of the United States as a whole. This level of vaults was the junk closet of the Event Group.