The Jerusalem Creed: A Sean Wyatt Thriller (22 page)

Susa, Iran

Sean’s cell phone started vibrating in his pocket. He removed it, checked the caller ID, and answered. “What’s up, Em?”

She spoke fast and direct. “Al Najaar is planning a massive attack on four major cities. I’m putting a team together right now to take him down, but my eyes on his compound told me that he’s gone, probably left the country. No one knows where.”

Sean pushed aside his instincts for a sarcastic response due to the severity of the situation. “What kind of attack?”

“Tommy’s kids were able to pull up shipping manifests, orders, inventories, the whole nine yards. He’s been buying attack drones by the hundreds. By my count, he has a thousand of them, all fully equipped with a devastating arsenal.”

“Bioweapons?”

“We don’t think so.” She didn’t sound certain. “But we can’t rule it out. Even if there aren’t bios, he’s got enough firepower to kill tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of people.”

Sean stepped farther away from the others and retreated to a dusty corner of the warehouse. “If he’s got all that, why hasn’t he gone forward with the attacks?”

“I don’t know. It might have something to do with whatever he’s looking for.” Her tone became grave. “Sean, we’re going to attempt to blockade his ships from leaving Dubai, but we don’t have much time. If you find Al Najaar, you have to take him out. Or at the very least, slow him down.”

He nodded. “I was planning on the first option.” He looked back over at his friends standing by the van. “How much time do you think we have?”

“Maybe twenty-four hours. Maybe less. I don’t really have an answer for that either.”

“You’re just full of helpful information.”

She ignored the barb. “I’m going to oversee the mission from Atlanta. I have eyes and ears on the ground in Dubai with the strike team. The president preferred I sit this one out. I told him a fighter jet could have me there in a few hours, but he refused. Let me know if you’re able to take down Al Najaar. It might make things on our end go a little more smoothly.”

“Will do.”

He ended the call and walked back to the others.

They looked at him expectantly, but Tommy was the first to speak up. “What was that about? Looked serious.”

“It is. Like that’s any different.”

“True.”

“That was Emily. She said the guy we’re after has amassed some kind of arsenal and is planning an attack on several major cities. Sounds like she knows which ones and more importantly, where the weapons are stashed.”

“So she has a handle on it,” Joe said.

“I think so. She’s putting together a team right now to take the ships Al Najaar is using to move the weapons, which by the way, are a thousand drones.”

“Drones?” Tommy asked. “Where did he get those?”

“She didn’t say, but she did say we only have about a twenty-four hour window. I’ll assume it’s half that.”

“So you two need to get a move on,” Helen advised.

“Right,” Sean agreed. “Let’s get everything packed in the car and ready to go so we can get out of here fast.”

Adriana arrived at the warehouse five minutes later. She spoke briefly about the man who’d tried to abduct her. Sean was relieved she was okay. He knew she could handle herself, but it still didn’t bring him a great deal of comfort to know she put herself in harm’s way so often.

Joe made an off-the-cuff joke about the guy not knowing who he was messing with that eased the momentary tension.

Adriana opened one of the gear bags and was beyond satisfied with the weapons they’d provided. She was equally intrigued by the tomahawk, which she accepted graciously after flipping it around in her hand a few times.

Helen informed them that she and Joe had set up a contact person for them in Susa, a man by the name of Muhammad Bin Jarad. Being local to the area, he would know a great deal about Daniel’s tomb and could expedite their search. Bin Jarad was someone Helen and Joe trusted. They’d worked with him before when doing some research in one of the areas nearby and had established a loose friendship.

With their supplies packed in the little Toyota, the friends said their goodbyes and took off on the long road to Susa. The eight-hour drive was brutally boring, with only the occasional town or rock formation to change up the flat, barren land. Now and then, a series of mountains or hills would appear in the distance, but for the most part, it was one of the less scenic drives the visitors had ever encountered. Eventually, the flatlands gave way to rolling, green plains and then canyons, larger hills, and the city of Susa.

The town was like an oasis of life, springing up out of a dead dust bowl. Lush green trees were scattered everywhere. Farms rich with a burgeoning harvest stretched out for thousands of acres around the outskirts of the city. Architecture in the city was fairly dated, unlike many of the more modern buildings featured in Tehran. An ancient fortress looked down over the city from a high hilltop, ruins from a time long ago.

One of the most famous ziggurats in the world, Chogha Zanbil wasn’t far from the metropolitan area. It was a historic site both Sean and Tommy had seen before on a previous research trip. The enormous structure still stood as a lasting tribute to the incredible power and influence of ancient Babylon.

Sean steered the car through the sparse traffic on the edge of town and into the more densely populated downtown area. They’d been instructed to meet their contact in a place known as the Red Tea House just outside the bazaar. Sean found a parking spot in front of an old hotel. They decided not to risk leaving the weapons bags in the car, so each grabbed one and slung it over their shoulders.

Susa was a little more old school than Tehran when it came to the general view of women, and Adriana had to make sure to keep her face, skin and hair covered. A light, linen blouse covering her top and a darker skirt draped over her leggings, along with the headpiece, ensured she didn’t draw too much attention.

Sean looked up the street and saw the sign for the rendezvous location. He was glad that they’d found a place to meet that wasn’t too close to the tomb. Getting a plan in place before they got to the location would make things safer and their search much faster. According to Joe, the man they were meeting had maps of the place that were unavailable to the public. The fact that there were secret tunnels and underground thoroughfares only served to increase the likelihood that they were in the right place. Not that he doubted it, but there was always the chance. Deep down, he hoped that the relics hadn’t been moved like they had been from Borobudur.

The three walked casually through a gaggle of people strolling along the sidewalk. Susa’s bazaar was much smaller than others they’d visited in larger cities, like Marrakech or Istanbul. White tents hung over the modest collection of stalls along the walkway. Some of the sellers were closing down for the day, the afternoon rush ending more than an hour ago. A few others hung around hoping to make a little extra money before dark.

Ahead on the left, a red fabric hung over an open doorway, propped up at two points by poles set into divots in the sidewalk. The words painted onto the stucco wall told the visitors they were in the right place:
The Red Tea House.
Sean let the other two enter first, giving one last look around before he stepped across the threshold.

Inside, they found a cantina-style tea room. It was long and narrow, with a bar set against the back wall and tables lining the rest of the room’s perimeter. Men ranging in age from forty to seventy sat quietly sipping their hot beverages. In this part of the world, tea was almost considered a privilege, as was being a man. A quick survey of the room told the group that Adriana wasn’t welcome. Every eye widened simultaneously as the men stared in disbelief at the woman who had the nerve to enter their fortress of masculinity.

She turned around and faced Sean. A concerned looked filled her eyes. He sighed and ticked his head to the right, motioning for her to wait outside. She shook her head but complied.

“I’ll keep a lookout for trouble,” she whispered as she passed.

“Sorry,” he said.

Once she was gone, the room came alive again, filled with quiet conversation among the patrons. They probably figured the two Americans didn’t speak Farsi, which was a mistaken assumption. Three men nearby mentioned how they couldn’t believe a woman would presume she could just walk in here. Another at the bar turned around and said something about stupid Westerners.

In the far left corner, a man in a white T-shirt and khakis stood up and walked toward the two visitors. He looked young, probably in his early thirties, with thick black hair and a matching mustache. He smiled as he approached.

“Don’t let them bother you. They don’t know you speak Farsi,” the man said loud enough for everyone to hear. He cocked his head to the side. “Perhaps they should speak some other dialect.” His English was perfect and carried the slightest twinge of a British accent.

The man stuck out his hand, which Sean shook firmly. “Muhammad, I presume?”

“At your service,” he bowed dramatically before shaking Tommy’s hand. “I have a table over here. Please, join me. I presume your female friend will be fine staying outside for a moment?”

Muhammad’s eyes were tucked behind a few sun-stroked wrinkles appeared young, like a man in his twenties, but the lines across his cheeks and the leathery skin looked like he’d been around four to five decades. Sean figured it was somewhere in the middle, probably closer to his own age. According to a quick briefing from Joe, Muhammad was Muslim, raised and educated in England, and tolerant of all religions. He’d forged a relationship with Joe and Helen with a mutual love of adventure and archaeology. Somehow, Sean figured there was a little more to that story than he’d been told, but he decided to leave it alone for now.

Sean smirked and tilted his head back for a fraction of a second. “Yeah, she’ll be okay.”

Muhammad couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, based on the sarcastic sound of his voice, but he sat down anyway and motioned for the other two to sit as well. He stuck his hand down into a brown canvas satchel and pulled out several sheets of paper. The rolled up sheets were old, frayed on the edges, and the writings and drawings had faded over time. The papers that may have been white or pale cream when they were new had turned to an almost brownish color.

He spread them out flat on the table and pushed away the nearly empty teacup. “Don’t want to spill anything on these. They’re over two hundred years old.”

Sean and Tommy passed each other an impressed glance and then focused on the drawings.

“This,” Muhammad pointed at the map’s center, “is where Daniel’s tomb is. These lines indicate tunnels that go in and around the surrounding area. There is one passage, however, that is not on this map. We’ll have to take this one,” he tapped on the paper, “to reach the secret entrance.”

“Secret entrance?” Tommy asked, throwing a suspicious look at Sean.

“Yes. I have spent a great amount of time studying about the prophet Daniel. While there are many historians who debate this as the true location of his tomb, I believe it is. But,” he raised a finger to emphasize his point, “I believe that the one the tourists see is merely a diversion for where the prophet is actually buried.”

Sean nodded. “Okay, I’m intrigued. How long will it take us to get there?”

Muhammad shook his head. “Not long. Five minutes to the entrance. Another ten to the secret tunnel. After that, I’m not sure.”

“Wait,” Tommy held up his hand. “What do you mean you’re not sure? Haven’t you been in this tunnel?”

Their host looked up from the papers and shook his head as if the answer was obvious. “No. No one has. It’s still sealed. I only recently excavated enough dirt to be able to see it.”

“How are we going to get through if it’s still sealed?”

Muhammad smiled. “I left all the necessary tools at the location. I doubt anyone would have seen them or stolen them.”

Sean leaned over the table and peered through Muhammad’s eyes. “Time isn’t a luxury we have here. If we don’t get to that tomb, a lot of people are going to die. A madman by the name of Mamoud Al Najaar is trying to beat us to the tomb, and if he succeeds, it’s going to be very bad for all of us.”

Muhammad nodded slowly. “I see. I have heard of this man, Al Najaar. He’s very wealthy. There are some in dark circles who have said he is looking to wage a war on the West.”

“You’ve heard that?”

He shrugged. “Only in whispers. But it’s the whispers you need to listen to the hardest. Men like Al Najaar give good Muslims like me a bad name. I don’t know what beef he has with the West. But I, for one, wish men like him would get over it.”

Sean and Tommy both grinned at the response.

“We all do, brother,” Sean said. Then, “We best get going before my girlfriend starts to wonder what we’re doing in here.”

Muhammad rolled up the maps and stuffed them into protective tubes before returning them to his bag. Back outside, they found Adriana standing with her arms crossed, turning her head from side to side as she watched the thinning crowd of pedestrians.

“Where to next?” she asked as the men appeared from the tea house.