“Professor, this is Control. We need you to get back to the others ASAP. You’ve got hostiles arriving in less than three minutes. Do you copy?”

  Acton put the SUV in gear and hammered on the gas, sending him surging toward the battle he had just fled. “I copy. I’m in their SUV. I’m driving toward them now. I’m not sure how far I can get, but I’ll switch to foot when I have to.”

  “Copy that, Professor. One-One is on his way to you on foot.”

  “Copy that. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

  “I hear ya, Doc. Don’t worry about babying her. This is one rental I’m happy we took the insurance out on.”

  Acton smiled as he guided the SUV through the rock-strewn gorge floor. It was wide enough for him to make his way around the larger stones, but as he got deeper in, he scraped the hell out of the paint job.

  And it was kind of fun.

  He spotted Niner flagging him down ahead. He pulled up beside the man and Niner climbed in. “Hiya, Doc. No time for hugs and kisses. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Primary has picked up One-One,” came the report in his ear for the benefit of the others.

  Acton continued forward, picking his way through, when gunfire erupted from behind them, several rounds pinging off the reinforced SUV’s body. He cursed and instinctively ducked, his foot easing off the accelerator.

  “Punch it, Doc! And sit up. If they hit us with anything big enough to make it through, you’re dead anyway.”

  Acton wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. In fact, he was quite sure he didn’t, but he hammered on the gas as he sat up, getting a better view of the path ahead. He glanced in the rearview mirror and spotted a light utility vehicle pursuing them, two men standing in the rear firing at them with assault rifles.

  Sometimes he hated when he was right.

  Never assume things were over just because the gunfire had stopped.

  Leather lay prone on the hilltop as he peered through his scope toward the far end of the gorge. Acton’s SUV was weaving between larger and larger boulders, and was about to reach the main debris field from the earlier explosion that had taken out a significant portion of the hillside.

  It was impassible.

  It meant Acton and Niner would have to get out and cover the rest of the way on foot, making them sitting ducks. At the moment, they were being pursued by only one vehicle, though apparently more were already arriving at the far end. There was no time for them to wait in the car. This had to end now.

  He took careful aim then squeezed the trigger. The pursuing driver slumped then the vehicle swerved, riding up the hillside before tipping over, spilling out its occupants. More shots rang out from the other members of his team, and the survivors dropped, the threat eliminated.

  “Bravo One-One, Charlie Zero-One. You’re all clear behind you, over.”

  “Copy that, Zero-One. Thanks for the assist.”

  The SUV slowed, the panic gone for the moment, and Leather watched as it reached the blocked debris field and came to a halt. Acton and Niner climbed out and jogged toward Spock’s position.

  “This is Control. Hostiles are arriving at the west end now. Prepare to engage.”

  Leather cursed. This wasn’t over yet.

  Dawson took up position as Atlas fired his third and final round at the oncoming Syrians, two vehicles already aflame, and now a third, every one of the big man’s shots true. This had the enemy scrambling. Atlas had taken out troop transports, maximizing the casualties, though it appeared they were still facing about twenty with more on the way and no more rounds for the Gustaf.

  Where the hell is our air support?

  If this lasted much longer, they’d be overwhelmed from all sides.

  “Conserve your ammo!” he ordered. “Make every shot count. We don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck here. Let’s just keep them back for as long as we can.”

  A string of acknowledgments from the others was followed by a cessation of the suppression fire. This had the Syrians tentatively standing to see what was going on.

  “Hold your fire. Let’s see how stupid they get.”

  All fire ceased from their position and Dawson watched as more of the Syrians rose. Some still wisely hid behind their vehicles, recognizing that they couldn’t have won the battle with barely a shot fired from their side, but there was the possibility his team had left.

  He counted ten.

  “Watch your arcs. Open fire.” He squeezed his trigger, taking out his first target, immediately moving on to the next one without waiting to see if he had hit the first. Atlas, Jimmy, and Jagger did the same, and within moments they were facing half what they had been.

  Let’s go, Navy!

  Acton reached Spock who held out a hand, stopping them just ahead of the carnage from earlier. His chest ached and he gasped for breath, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up this pace.

  “Good to see you, Doc. You okay?”

  “Bruised ribs, I think. Just having a hard time getting deep breaths. Every one of them hurts.”

  Niner frowned. “I’ll check you out when I get the chance, Doc, but you’re just going to have to suck it up for now. If all goes to plan, we’re out of here any minute now.”

  Gunfire from either end of the gorge suggested otherwise.

  They turned to see two vehicles approaching from the east, and three sets of curses erupted. Spock pointed the way. “Follow me exactly. I’ve boobytrapped the area to make them think twice. Let’s not get ourselves killed now, shall we?”

  Acton picked his way through the wreckage, following Spock’s footsteps precisely, his heart pounding with every tripwire pointed out. They were through in an eternity that lasted less than a minute, then were sprinting once again toward the lesser of two evils.

  The gunfight at the west end.

  Rather than the fresh arrivals from the east.

  I just want to go home.

  64 |

  Corpo della Gendarmeria Office Palazzo del Governatorato, Vatican City

  Laura’s pulse pounded as she watched everything unfolding from overhead. To the right of the screen, she could see James with two others the voice from Langley had identified as Niner and Spock. They were running toward the others as two loads of soldiers emptied out of transports that had just arrived from the east end of the gorge.

  They were hopelessly outnumbered.

  She bit her finger as muzzle flashes erupted from the new arrivals, then cheered with the others in Giasson’s now crowded office as Leather’s team opened up from their elevated position, taking down a large number of the new arrivals, sending them into disarray. James and the others continued their escape as Leather engaged, and within minutes James had joined Dawson and the others, and the Syrians from the east were retreating on foot.

  She buried her face in her hands as her shoulders shook, her sobs a mix of terror and relief. She wasn’t sure how much more of this her poor heart could take, and the thought had her wondering how Reading and his genuinely poor heart was doing.

  “Additional hostiles arriving from the north, ETA sixty seconds.”

  “This is ridiculous!” cried someone. “Why don’t they get them out of there?”

  She had been asking herself the same question repeatedly, but knew from experience it took time for air assets to get into position. They couldn’t have been deployed until they knew the status, and this battle had begun barely fifteen minutes ago. Even the fastest aircraft took time.

  “What are those?” asked Giasson, sitting beside her as he pointed at the left of the screen, four dark shapes entering the bird’s eye view from the west.

  Laura wiped her eyes clear then smiled.

  “Helicopters!”

  65 |

  West of Burial Site South of Homs, Syria

  Dawson looked up as four Bell AH-1W SuperCobra attack helicopters blew past them, their weapons pods lighting up as scores of rockets launched, streaking toward the enemy positions. Explosion after explosion erupted and he and the others rose to watch the beautiful sight.

  Shock and awe on a small scale.

  The entire show took less than two minutes, and soon Control was in his ear reporting the general retreat taking place. But their reprieve might not last long. The Syrians could have air power of their own in the area within minutes. When the Osprey arrived, they would have to be quick about it.

  He activated his comms. “Charlie Zero-One, this is Bravo Zero-One. Get your team to the LZ ASAP, over.”

  “Roger that, Zero-One. On our way,” responded Leather.

  Dawson turned to see Acton gasping for breath, something he shouldn’t be doing. Niner was examining him, concern on his face. Dawson joined them. “Status?”

  “He’s having some trouble breathing. Might be some bruised or cracked ribs.”

  Acton dismissed their concerns with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be okay. It’s just all the running. I can’t get a full breath without it hurting, so I’m just winded. I’ll settle down soon enough.”

  “Understood. Niner, you’re responsible for him. Get him on the Osprey the moment it touches down.”

  “You got it.”

  Dawson peered in the distance, the distinctive sound of the Osprey’s rotors now within earshot. He did a quick mental tally of his men and Leather’s as they arrived, confirming what he already knew. No casualties, no wounded except possibly Acton. The man should be dead, though, so some temporary breathing issues were nothing to be worried about.

  His men popped smoke to not only mark their position but to obscure the evac from any hostiles that might have hung around, though he doubted there were any in fighting shape, the SuperCobras having done their job swiftly and effectively.

  He cleared the LZ and took a knee as the Osprey touched down, its tilt rotors something he’d never get tired of seeing. And as he waved his men on board, he wondered just what the hell Acton had found back there, and whether it meant all his time spent in church had been wasted.

  He prayed not.

  66 |

  Kınalıada Island, Eastern Roman Empire AD 1072

  Alexander stood on the shore, awaiting the arrival of his best friend whom he hadn’t seen in over a year. Romanus had been forbidden visitors and any contact with his former allies, of which Alexander was considered one of the closest. Yet for some reason, he had been granted permission to see his old friend, his old emperor. In fact, he hadn’t requested the meeting. He had never requested one the entire time, for he was well aware of the conditions of the agreement. Instead, he had received a message from Emperor Michael himself granting him permission to see Romanus on this day at this location.

  He was eager to see his friend. It had been too long, and this might be the last time they saw each other, or perhaps the first of many should some leniency now be shown toward a man who was never a threat to the emperor or the Doukai family—once Romanus gave his word, it was absolute.

  “Here they come,” said one of the monks standing nearby. Little had been said upon his arrival beyond him presenting the documentation allowing him to be there, then being told where to stand. He had a sense they knew something about what was happening, though he couldn’t be sure. After all, these were monks, unaccustomed to interacting with the high society of Constantinople, and certainly had little experience in hosting a former emperor.

  He spotted the boat pulling through the morning fog, the sail drawn down as the tiller steered them to the dock. Several men jumped from the small boat onto the dock as monks rushed forward to assist, and soon they were tied off. Alexander stepped forward as a hooded figure was helped from the boat.

  “Romanus, is that you, my friend?” he asked tentatively, uncertain, for the man in front of him was broken, a shadow of the mighty warrior he had called friend for decades.

  “Alexander?” The voice was weak, hoarse, all the pride it once held now gone.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  A withered hand reached out and he took it, shocked at how emaciated it was. “It is you, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  Romanus cried out and collapsed into his arms, his shoulders shaking as he wept. “Forgive me, my friend, for I have no more honor left in me. They have broken me, and my only wish is to die.” His friend grabbed him by the shoulder and looked up at him, the hood that covered his face slipping down his neck, giving Alexander his first glimpse of his old friend.

  And he recoiled in horror.

  Romanus’ eyes were no more, his face caked in blood, maggots wriggling in the sockets that once contained his piercing eyes. It was the most horrifying thing he had ever seen. Nothing on the battlefield compared to this, for this was a living man, and this man was his friend.

  “Who did this to you?”

  “John. John Doukas.”

  “That bastard! He shall pay for this!”

  Romanus pressed his forehead against Alexander’s chest. “You must do me one last favor, my friend.”

  “Anything.”

  “Kill me.” The demand was gasped out, a desperate cry from a tortured man who had lost all hope. Alexander could only imagine how horrendous the pain must be, and as much as it sickened him, he had no choice.

  He must honor his friend’s wish.

  “You have my word.” He paused. “But first, there is a matter we must discuss.”

  “Make it brief, my friend, for I wish to be free of this hell as quickly as possible.”

  Alexander turned to the others. “A chair!”

  One was tossed from the boat and positioned nearby. He helped Romanus onto it then kneeled in front of him. He lowered his voice. “I have brought the tablet with me.”

  Romanus stared at him through dead eyes, and it was everything Alexander could do to not gag. “You must find the truth. I failed, so now it is your duty.”

  “But with you no longer our emperor, there is no hope of getting to the location indicated on the tablet.”

  “You must try. And if not you, then some future you. Your son, your grandson. The truth must be determined. Promise me you will try.”

  Alexander squeezed his eyes shut as Romanus reached out, pressing his palm against Alexander’s chest. Alexander clasped it. “You have my word that someday, someone will determine the truth. But I am afraid, my friend, that you will know the truth long before I.”

  Romanus smiled, patting him on the chest. “I think you may be right, old friend.” He inhaled deeply and squared his shoulders. “Now do it.”

  “Forgive me, my emperor.” Alexander stood and drew his sword, swinging it in a wide arc, decapitating his friend in a single stroke. Everyone around him stood in stunned silence, uncertain as to what to do. Alexander sheathed his sword then reached out, gently lowering his friend’s body to the dock before he fell from the chair.

  Somebody shouted in the background, what, Alexander didn’t care, for he wept like he never had in his life. His best friend was dead, and he had delivered the final blow. He said a silent prayer for the soul of the greatest man he had ever known, then stood as the boat pushed away from the dock, the crew desperate to flee the scene.

  He turned to the abbot, who stood nearby, his mouth agape. “You will see to his burial, with full honors, of course.”

  The man tore his eyes from the sight. “Y-yes. Of course.”

  “Good.” Alexander patted the satchel slung over his shoulder, the tablet heavier now than only moments before. “I have something here that must be buried with him.”

  “I understand.”

  Alexander stared down at his friend’s head, and squeezed his eyes shut.

  I’m sorry, my friend, but it will be up to some future soul to determine the truth, not I, nor my descendants.

  67 |

  Corpo della Gendarmeria Office Palazzo del Governatorato, Vatican City Present Day

  Acton sat in Giasson’s office, gently taking deep breaths as his ribs, or more accurately, rib, continued to knit. X-rays on the USS Iwo Jima had revealed a single cracked rib and no other collateral damage. He would be fine in a couple of weeks, though sore, especially for the next few days.

  The evac had been somber for him, as it had finally given him some time to process what had happened with the Keepers and the tomb. There was no way to be certain what they had found, and now that the entire location had been destroyed, the truth could never be known. Pressed by Bravo Team and Leather, all he had managed to tell them was that he didn’t know what he had found, but he had found something.

  Just talking was difficult, so it had saved him from any further explanation.

  “It’s here.”

  They all looked up as Ianuzzi whispered the message from the doorway.

  ‘It’ could be only one thing.

  “When did it arrive?” asked Giasson.

  “Just a few minutes ago. Private courier to his Holiness’ office, marked for his eyes only.”

  “And?”

  “His assistant opened it under our supervision. It is the tablet.”

  “Any message?” asked Laura.

  “Just a single page with their symbol, and the words, ‘For the Vault.’ printed below it.”

  Acton sighed. “And another piece of history gets buried for eternity.”

  Giasson shrugged. “What would you have us do? If what you say is true, think of the trouble it could cause.”

  Laura tapped her chin. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said. You said you found the bones, as the tablet said, but what made you think it was, you know, Him?”

  Acton closed his eyes, picturing the scene, something he would never forget for the rest of his life. “He was gripping a wooden cross on his chest.”

  Laura’s eyebrows rose. “Wait. A wooden cross?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled then leaped to her feet, facing everyone. “It’s not Him!”

  They stared at her, puzzled.

 

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