“You do realize that when this is all over, there will likely be some interaction between the Keepers and the Vatican.”

  Giasson’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “The tablet, and perhaps a set of bones, will need to be stored in the Vault. The Keepers have the tablet, and tomorrow, they’ll have the bones.”

  Giasson took her arm and stopped her. “Do you really think they’ll find…His bones?”

  Laura regarded the deeply religious man. “Let me say this. If the tablet tells the truth, then we’ll find the bones there. But if the tablet is a hoax, don’t you think they’d also have placed bones where the tablet says they should be found?” She resumed walking toward customs. “No matter what, mon ami, I have little doubt James will be finding something that will need explaining.”

  “God help us all.”

  44 |

  Istanbul Police Headquarters Istanbul, Turkey

  “Palmer is in Rome.”

  Captain Demirel yanked his reading glasses off and looked up at his partner, Evren. “What?”

  “She landed in Rome an hour ago.”

  “How is that possible? Why weren’t we notified?”

  “I made the request to add her to the watchlist, but someone screwed up. Her pilot filed a flight plan for Rome with an immediate departure, and the manifest was submitted but using her initials. Nobody caught it.”

  “What about the passport number? Shouldn’t that have flagged her?”

  “Apparently a typo that was corrected after they were in the air.”

  Demirel growled. “If that doesn’t make her look guilty, I don’t know what does.” He leaned back. It didn’t make sense. Why would she leave in such a manner? He had been convinced she was innocent in this matter and her husband likely was as well. The more he looked into these people, the more he realized they were upstanding citizens, well respected in their field, and extremely well connected.

  These weren’t criminals.

  He was leaning toward believing the theory that Acton was being manipulated, extorted into taking the actions he had, but now? Her deception had him second-guessing everything.

  “I want a warrant issued for her arrest.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me.”

  Evren closed the office door. “You think she’s involved?”

  “After this, don’t you?”

  Evren shrugged. “Not really. Think about it. Were you going to let her leave?”

  “No.”

  “And what would you have done if she had tried, and the system stopped her?”

  “I would have arrested her.”

  “Exactly. Don’t you think she knew that?”

  Demirel regarded him for a moment. “And if she did?”

  “You’re an innocent woman of means, Western, Christian, in today’s Turkey. You have a husband that has been kidnapped, possibly heading to Syria. What do you do? You don’t stay here where you’re powerless to do anything and might be arrested at any moment just because our system demands someone be blamed for every crime, even if they’re innocent. You call your people and tell them to make it happen. I bet you she doesn’t even know what was done to get her out.”

  Demirel pursed his lips. “You better be careful saying things like that. It’s liable to get you dismissed from the force.”

  Evren shrugged. “It’s not like the old days.”

  Demirel sighed. “No, it’s definitely not. And you’re right. If Ankara demands an arrest, she’s the only one I can.” He frowned. “She was the only one.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Only Professor Acton can answer the questions that need answering. Let’s hope that he survives whatever is about to happen and we get a chance to interview him when this is all over.”

  “So, no arrest warrant?”

  “No. Let her go for now. We might still have to issue one, but I doubt anyone will want to pursue extradition. She’s safe. For the moment.”

  45 |

  Approaching Syrian Coast

  It had been a long time since Acton had laid on the deck of a boat and slept under the stars, and it was a lifestyle he could get used to. He understood the appeal. Getting away from civilization, the people, the noises, the smells. A return to nature without the hassles of camping. Lying under the stars as you bounced along the waves was almost primal.

  And it could have been a hell of a good time if it weren’t for the situation.

  The vehicle they had transferred to was a boat, not another truck, and he and his captors had made it into international waters within minutes. This had set everyone at ease, including himself, for it meant he wasn’t getting blown away by the Turkish Navy. But now they were approaching the Syrian coastline at four in the morning, and the possibility of capture and even death was a very real possibility.

  This was perhaps the most dangerous part of his ordeal so far.

  There were no guns on the boat. He had watched as everything from handguns to knives were tossed overboard. There would be no defending themselves against any Syrian security.

  “What do we do if we’re captured?” he asked Esposito.

  Esposito faced him. “Tell them nothing about why we are here, just that we kidnapped you in Istanbul and forced you to steal the tablet. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t know where it is.”

  Acton’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, you don’t have it with you?”

  “No. It’s been handed off. We don’t need the tablet to get where we’re going, only the words inscribed on it.”

  It made sense. Even he wouldn’t have brought it with them if this were a sanctioned dig. The tablet was an ancient artifact that needed to be properly preserved, not hauled around the world unnecessarily. He had little doubt their motivations were different. They didn’t want it falling into anyone’s hands. A photo meant nothing. It could be written off as a forgery with little challenge. “So, you want me to rat you out.”

  Esposito stared at him, puzzled. “Excuse me?”

  Acton shook his head. “Nothing. I mean, you want me to tell them the truth, that you kidnapped me. Doesn’t that kind of seal your fate?”

  “Our fate was sealed the day we took our vows. Dying for the cause is our greatest honor. But when you are set free, you must complete the mission.”

  Acton’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Are you kidding me?”

  “We must determine if this is a hoax, and you are the best man for the job. If we are captured, you must promise me that you will complete our mission.”

  “How? They’ll arrest me for sure if I try.”

  “You are a resourceful man, Professor. I’ve followed your career since our first encounter, and I know if there is anyone who can find a way, it is you.” Esposito leaned closer, tapping Acton’s chest. “Remember, your wife’s life is at stake here.”

  Acton regarded him. “If you’re dead—”

  “Your deal isn’t with me, it’s with the Keepers of the One Truth. I merely occupy a position. If I die, someone will replace me. If all my men die here today, others will contact you. The entire organization knows the agreement we made. You must complete the mission for your wife to be safe.”

  Acton sighed. “Fine. But I have a better plan.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let’s just not get caught.”

  Esposito laughed, slapping Acton on the arm. “I like you, Professor. I think under different circumstances, we could be friends.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  The captain motioned for them to get down, and everyone crouched as the engine was cut, their momentum carrying them to shore.

  “You’d be surprised how much we have in common. Did you know that I too am an academic? I teach history.”

  Acton stared at the man, stunned. “You teach? I thought you were roaming around, looking for threats.”

  “We all have lives, Professor. Yes, some roam about, like you say, but the best way to find out about things that might threaten the Church is to live a fulfilling life, to talk to people, to interact, to converse with academics in the field who might encounter the next threat. How do you think we found out about the tablet? We had people monitoring the social media accounts of archaeologists and their students. How do you think we recognized its significance? Because we had people educated in Biblical Hebrew. We’re not mindless drones. We’re people of faith and education, willing to die to protect what we believe in.”

  The boat bumped onto shore and everyone climbed down the ladder and into the water before pushing the boat back. Acton followed his captors onto the shore, his head on a swivel for trouble. If they encountered Syrian security, he was hitting the ground immediately. There was no way in hell he was risking his life by attempting to evade the authorities. But it would mean returning later for another attempt if Esposito were to be believed and Laura’s life was still at risk.

  He stared up at the stars as he sloshed to shore.

  Please God, let us all get through this, for Laura’s sake.

  Down the coast, at least several miles away, he could see lights, but in the immediate vicinity they were lit only by the night sky. He nearly pissed his pants as headlights flashed ahead, but as they cycled on and off three times, he breathed easier, realizing it was a signal from whoever they were meeting.

  They raced across the beach and toward the vehicle, and moments later, without a word exchanged, they were in the back of a cloth-sided delivery truck, heading away from the shore.

  An anticlimactic end to his journey.

  Just the way he liked it.

  Yet this wasn’t the end. If they had landed where he suspected they would, they still had hours of driving to get to the location indicated on the tablet, and in a country like Syria, that could mean countless roadblocks or worse.

  This was far from over.

  46 |

  Beirut-Rafic Hariri International Airport Beirut, Lebanon

  Leather smiled broadly at a man he hadn’t seen in years. When in the SAS, one of his missions had taken him into Lebanon in pursuit of a terrorist responsible for killing several British citizens in Jordan. The Lebanese had quietly cooperated, assigning Farez Yassin as their liaison. A friendship had been kindled, and Leather had kept in touch with the man over the years, offering him a job in his firm if he were even interested.

  Yassin wasn’t.

  He was committed to rebuilding his country, though all recent reports Leather had read suggested it was a losing battle. Lebanon was heading backward, not forward.

  Yassin smiled, grabbing Leather by both shoulders and planting a kiss on each cheek. “How are you doing, my old friend?”

  Leather returned the gesture—when in Rome. “I’m doing well. How’s the family?”

  “Good! Good! My wife, she wants to meet you, but I said you have no time. Very busy man.”

  “I am, but pass on my respects to her. You have what we need?”

  “Not with me, but I will. It’s not wise for you to be stopped in a vehicle filled with weapons. My supplier will meet us closer to the border.”

  Leather slapped Yassin on the back. “This is why I want you working for me. Always thinking ahead.” They climbed into a large SUV that had seen better days, much like the entire country. “So, do you think we’ll have any trouble?”

  Yassin shrugged. “If we do, I talk us out of it. You’ve all got your passports and visas?”

  “Yes.”

  “And cash?”

  “Enough to grease every palm from here to the border.”

  “Then I anticipate no problems. I suggest you lean back and enjoy the ride. Get some rest if you can. If you need me to get you into Syria, I doubt it’s to see the sights.”

  Leather grunted. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  47 |

  Northeast of Homs, Syria

  Dawson spoke flawless Russian. When he started his career, he had chosen several languages to learn. Arabic and Farsi were the obvious choices at the time since the world felt Islam would be the problem, but he had listened to his father who had assured him that sooner or later, the Russians would be a problem again.

  And the old man had been right.

  Which meant he could pass himself off as Wagner if necessary, as could several of the others in their vehicle. They were en route to Acton’s expected destination. Last night, after receiving their new orders, they had packed up their gear and loaded it in their SUV hidden behind the walls of the compound they were using, then waited for dawn.

  Driving at night was slow on the roads around here, especially the backroads they’d be taking, but it necessitated headlights, which meant they could be seen for miles. At this hour, with the sun just coming up, it was early enough that most casual observers were still asleep, and the roads were sufficiently revealed that headlights weren’t necessary.

  It also meant any roadblocks were manned by the tired nightshift, not the bright-eyed, newly arrived dayshift.

  Langley was in his ear, guiding them through the gauntlet, and so far they had managed to avoid any roadblocks or other problems, though the route was slow. They had no idea when Acton would be arriving. It could be any minute now, it could be tomorrow. There was just no way to know. Langley had every eye in the sky available scouring every route leading to the ultimate destination, but it would be like finding a needle in a haystack where the needle had a roof over its head.

  They would only know he was there when he climbed out of whatever got him there.

  And Dawson wanted to be there before that happened, so they could pre-position themselves to take out the hostiles without risking Acton. He had to assume it was a small party to attract less attention. They were six, and if the enemy was the same or less, they could drop all six and end this. That was the ideal solution, though unfortunately, things rarely worked out ideally. They were in disputed territory. Syrian troops were everywhere, Wagner was as well, not to mention elements of what remained of ISIS and various other factions. It was anarchy outside of the cities, and a bunch of Americans were juicy targets.

  But a bunch of Americans passing themselves off as Russians? Not as much.

  “Zero-One, hold your position, over.”

  Dawson geared down and came to a halt slowly so as not to create a cloud of dust. “Holding, Control. What’s the situation?”

  “We’ve got a Wagner vehicle approaching a crossroads ahead. Stand by while we see which direction they take.”

  “Do our old ROEs still apply?”

  “What were your old ROEs?”

  “Engage when engaged only.”

  “Negative. New ROEs are to engage if deemed necessary for the success of the mission.”

  Dawson smiled at the others. “Confirmed, Control. ROEs are to engage if deemed necessary for the success of the mission.”

  Leroux cursed. “Zero-One, they’ve turned and are now heading in your direction.”

  “Any chance they’ll turn off this road?”

  “Negative. There are no side roads. They are coming directly for you. ETA three minutes.”

  “Control, to confirm, we have unknown number of Wagner hostiles approaching our position with no opportunity to evade. It is my assessment that this constitutes a risk to mission success. Does Control concur?”

  “Control concurs. You are cleared to engage.”

  Dawson gave a thumbs-up to the others as fist bumps were exchanged. “Copy that, Control. Preparing to engage. Any estimates as to how many we’re facing?”

  “It’s an up-armored SUV. No more than eight.”

  “Copy that. Keep us posted as needed. Zero-One, out.” He turned to the others. “Atlas, break out the Gustaf and find a good position. Everyone else, find good firing positions. I want all arcs covered with no casualties. I’d rather have a sustained fight than a brief one with a round in someone’s ass.”

  Niner grinned at Atlas. “He’s talking to you.”

  “I’m going to play broken down driver.” Dawson popped the hood. “When I drop the hood, Atlas, take out their vehicle, everyone else clean your arc then assist. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sergeant Major!”

  “Good. Let’s kill some Rooskies.”

  48 |

  Lebanon/Syria Border

  Leather peered through the binoculars at the border to Syria from Lebanon. They had seen several patrols over the past hour along with light traffic across the small border crossing in the middle of nowhere. The guards appeared bored, though whenever a superior arrived in a vehicle, they were on alert, all movements crisp and brisk.

  They were poorly paid conscripts who didn’t want to be there.

  The perfect soldier for their purposes.

  “Ready?” asked Yassin.

  Leather nodded. “Yup.”

  “Good. I’ll do the talking, you hand over the money. I assume your Arabic is still up to snuff?”

  “My Arabic is perfect,” replied Leather in Arabic.

  Yassin laughed. “If you say so. Like I said, keep your mouth shut, but listen for how much to hand over. We don’t want to flash more than necessary.”

  “Understood.”

  They headed back to their vehicle parked just off the road behind some heavy brush and climbed in. Within minutes, Yassin had them rolling up to the Lebanese side of the border crossing. They were given the standard warnings then waved through after a palmed wad of cash was exchanged. It was clear this was a well-used route for smuggling and other nefarious business.

  He just hoped the next side of the exchange went as smoothly.

  “I don’t recognize this guy,” said Yassin as they approached, a guard holding up his hand, ordering them to stop.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Let’s hope not. If it is, let’s try non-lethal, understood?”

 

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