Treasure of Babylon, page 2
part #2 of Avalon Adventure Series
“Come on,” he said, sweeping a broad hand over the sparkling scene. Leather couches with silk scatter cushions… a plasma screen… and the drinks cabinet is straight out of Gatsby.”
“Oh, thank you!”
“That wasn’t a compliment…”
“You do like it, don’t you?”
“I like grease, oil, mess. Does this look like something I might like?”
“You’re part of a team now, Mitch. You’re the official pilot of the London Archaeological Museum’s Research and Excavation Department.”
“Isn’t that basically just you?”
She turned to avoid his glare and stared out one of the starboard windows. “Well… I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but… wait a minute.”
“What is it?”
“That looks like Oliver Fleming.”
“As in your boss, Oliver?”
“Yes.”
Decker frowned and joined her at the next window along. She was right. The man hurrying along through the rain on the apron outside was Oliver Fleming, the Director of the LMA. As he stepped into the dry hangar he didn’t even stop to sweep the rain from his hair. He just rushed toward the Avalon with a big, red face.
Selena and Decker exchanged a worried glance. “What the hell is he doing here?” the American asked.
“I don’t like this,” Selena said. “He looks worried. Ollie never looks worried.”
When he was a few yards from the plane, Decker and Selena came out and joined him under the plane’s starboard wing.
“Ollie – what is it?”
“Thank God I found you,” he said.
“What’s going on?” Decker said.
Oliver Fleming was not the slimmest of men, and the short run from the airport over to the hangars had taken him to the limit of his physical endurance. Now, he was leaning over and supporting himself with his hands on his knees as he fought to bring his breathing under control.
“I tried to call but you didn’t answer.”
“Phone’s at the office. What is it, Ollie?”
“It’s your… father, Lena.”
Selena stared at Decker with terror in her eyes. She tried to speak but no words came.
Decker pulled Oliver up so they were face to face. “What about her father, Ollie?”
“He’s…”
Selena blew out a breath. “Ollie!”
“He’s gone missing.”
2
Decker watched the young professor of archaeology take a step back and raise two trembling hands to her face. She looked like she’d been hit in the chest with an ice pick. He turned to Oliver. “What do you mean, missing?”
The museum’s rotund director had now gotten his short breath under control and the blood had started to drain from his round cheeks. “I got a call an hour ago from the police in Jerusalem. They said he never turned up for a meeting with his Israeli counterpart in the dig. When they looked into it they went to his hotel room and found everything wrecked, and no sign of your father.”
Decker looked at Selena and knew she was thinking the same thing.
“What was he doing in Jerusalem?”
He sighed again, and now buried his head in his hands. When he looked up at them, his eyes were as red as the rest of his face. He looked like he was ageing right in front of them. “Your father found something.”
“He found something?”
Another sad nod. “In the dig in the Middle East. He found a manuscript, rolled up tight and preserved inside a jar.”
“Go on.”
“The jar was hidden in the back of a cave in the Judean Desert on the West Bank. That must be why they took him.” A pained smile crossed his lips. “But they won’t find what they’re looking for though.”
“And why is that?”
“Because Atticus posted it to me by recorded delivery the day before yesterday – jar and all. He’s a wily old bird, your father.”
“So you’ve seen this manuscript?”
“Oh yes, and I could hardly believe my eyes. I thought it was de Vaux and Harding all over again and when I opened the jar I knew at once that we were right. He’d discovered yet more fragments of the Dead Sea Scrolls.”
Selena started to fume. When Decker saw the hands coming up to her hips he knew to take a step back and get ready to put his fingers in his ears. “Just why the hell wasn't I told about any of this, Ollie?”
“Well…”
“My own father is on a dig to find missing Dead Sea Scrolls and I hear nothing about it until someone kidnaps him?”
“I am sorry, Lena, but your father specifically wanted to keep you out of it for precisely this reason. He was worried you might get hurt. This is dangerous territory we’re on.”
“Dangerous territory?” she said.
“You’re doing that repeating thing,” said Decker, trying to calm her down. It didn’t work, so he took another step back.
“My father’s gone missing, Mitch.”
“I’m sorry, I was just…”
She turned back to Ollie before the American had a chance to apologize. “What do you mean dangerous territory? The Dead Sea Scrolls aren’t exactly at the top of every gangster’s wish list as far as historical artefacts go.”
“No,” Ollie muttered, looking down at his polished shoes. “No, they are not.”
“So why did you say dangerous territory?” Decker said.
Selena had gathered herself together after the shock of Oliver’s news, and now she was back to her old self. “All right, out with it, Ollie. Dad wasn’t looking for Dead Sea Scrolls was he?”
“No.”
“What was he looking for?”
Oliver scratched his head as an expression of awkward embarrassment crept over his face. “Your father has been searching for the Ark of the Covenant.”
Decker felt like someone had punched him in the gut – and by the look on Selena’s face, so did she. His first mission with Selena Moore and the rest of her team had involved flying into Tibet and discovering the lost kingdom of Shambhala. That had seemed like high fantasy to him, even when he was actually standing in the place, but this was in an altogether different league. The lost Ark of the Covenant was probably the most sacred and sought after historical relic in history, and finding out Atticus Moore was hot on its trail was definitely one way to get the blood flowing faster.
But Selena looked less impressed. “You mean to say that my father has solid, archaeological research leading to the location of the Ark of the Covenant?”
“More or less.”
“More or… Ollie!”
“Then yes, but as you can imagine, nothing in this field is straight-forward.”
Decker lowered his voice and looked at his boots. “With you guys it never is.”
Neither of the archaeologists heard him, and Selena was still looking daggers at her boss. “I can’t believe any of this is happening. How long has he been missing?”
“Just a few hours, according to the local police.”
“He could be anywhere.”
Decker took her by the shoulders. “We’ll find him.”
Distractedly, she changed the subject. “Where is this jar and manuscript?”
“In the cab.”
Selena’s jaw fell slack, and she was rendered speechless. “You mean a Black Cab?”
“Why, yes. It’s how I got here. He’s waiting for me at the front of the airport.”
Selena turned on the spot and gripped her head in her hands. “Oh my God.”
Decker leaned closer to Selena and furrowed his brow. “Wait, is Ollie what you guys call a berk?”
“Yes he bloody is!” she snapped. “We have to take this to Charlie. He has people in the security services who’ll be able to help… and it might be a good idea to go and get that cab, don’t you think, Ollie?”
“Capital idea, Lena. Capital.”
“And you guys spell berk with an ‘e’, right not a ‘u’?”
“Yes,” Selena said briskly. It’s short for Berkshire Hunt.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Cockney rhyming slang.”
Decker looked almost offended. “You don’t say?”
Selena put her finger up to his lips to shush him. “Let’s just get that jar, shall we?”
*
Oliver Fleming indicated the ancient jar on the back seat with smug pride. He had seemed genuinely offended that anyone would doubt the integrity of a London Black Cab driver, and promptly introduced the man at the wheel as Colin.
Colin gave a cheery wave. “Where to?”
“Thames House,” Selena said. “And don’t hang about, either.”
“Thames House, eh?” Colin said. “Got a date with James Bond?”
The scowl on her face redirected Colin’s attention to the road as he drove them out of the airport and turned west to the City of London.
Selena snatched the jar from Oliver’s porky hands and started to inspect it. On its own it was a spectacular find due to its near-perfect condition, but the real treasure was rolled up and hidden inside.
As the cab weaved its way across the north of the Isle of Dogs, she carefully pulled the manuscript out of the jar and unfurled its yellowed, crumbling pages. “This is beautiful.”
“Isn’t it?” Ollie chimed in. “It’s written in a very archaic form of Hebrew.”
“Undoubtedly,” she said, already mesmerised by the ancient, faded letters.
“What does it say?” Decker asked.
“It’s a poem,” Ollie said.
“It’s much more than that,” said Selena, her lips barely moving. “The first part is an ode, but the second makes a sly reference to the Ark’s location.”
“Do you really think so?” Oliver said. “I think it’s pure allegory.”
“Unlikely,” she continued. “This reference to the Angel of God isn’t allegorical in my opinion. It’s a reference to an idol, a golden statue. When it says the Angel of God will lead the way to the Ark it’s referring to an actual statue.”
Oliver looked almost crestfallen. “A real angel showing the way is so much more beautiful, don’t you think?”
Selena did not, and going by what he said next, neither did Mitch Decker.
“So this manuscript is basically telling us to look for a clue inside a golden statue called the Angel of God?”
Selena nodded as she curled the old paper back up and slid it back in the jar. “It’s very explicit. It tells us that beneath the Golgotha is a golden statue called the Angel of God, and this statue will lead us to the Ark.”
“Golgotha?”
“It’s a hill in Jerusalem,” Colin said, turning a broad smile on them. “Where Jesus was crucified.”
“Yes, thank you, Colin,” Selena said. “Eyes on the road please.”
“Of course, the crucifixion was centuries after all of this,” Oliver said.
Approaching Blackfriars Bridge, Decker felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up as he watched the bright red dot tracing along the shoulder of Colin’s jacket and then up to the side of his head. In the comfort and safety of the Black Cab, it took two or three seconds for him to work out what was going on, but then the red light disappeared from sight, and he knew at once that could mean only one thing.
It was a laser sight from a sniper rifle and it was now on its target – someone was trying to kill the cabbie and crash the cab, presumably so they could take out the rest of the passengers.
“Get down!” he yelled, but it was too late.
Colin turned and stared at him, unknowing and confused. He shook his head and started to speak when it happened.
And it happened faster than lightning.
Colin’s head exploded across the inside of the windshield and his dead body slumped down behind the wheel. The sound of the gunshot followed a fraction of a second later, and Selena screamed.
Decker looked up to see the cab powering out from beneath the bridge and swerving wildly toward the low brick wall dividing the road from the River Thames. He knew at this speed the cab would make short work of the wall and they would be flying out over the river in a matter of seconds, but the security partition meant there was no way to reach the front part of the cab and seize control.
Oliver pointed a trembling hand at the road ahead. “We’re going to crash into the river!”
3
Like hell we are, Decker thought, and opened the rear door on his side. He knew it was crazy, but he had about ten seconds until they smashed through that wall and piled into the Thames, so he had to act fast.
“What are you doing?” Selena said.
“Saving our asses.”
“What?”
“I’ve got to get to the driver’s seat!”
“Are you insane?” Selena cried out. “This is my town, so I’m doing the driving!”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Why ever not?”
“Because I saw you try and park once,” he handed her his gun. There was a small arsenal in the Avalon, checked into customs but he did his best to carry one when he could. It was a lot easier than most people thought it would be. “Besides, someone has to stay behind and shoot the bad guys.”
“Ask yourself this question, Mitch: is my parking better than my shooting?”
“You want to climb out here while the cab’s still moving?”
Selena twisted her lips. “Fine. You drive.”
Holding onto the passenger grip inside the back, he leaned outside the car and opened Colin’s door.
A second shot rang out and a bullet pinged off the cab roof a few inches from his face. “Dammit! They’re still on our tails!”
He spun around and saw them now – two men in a black Audi directly behind them. One was leaning out of the front passenger window with a pistol in a two hand grip.
“Hurry up!” Selena cried out.
Other drivers honked their horns and pedestrians filmed him on their phones, slack-jawed with disbelief as he pulled the dead man out of the cab and jumped behind the wheel. With a second to spare he wrenched the steering wheel to the right and swerved the cab away from the wall.
A screech of burning rubber left a criss-cross of black marks on the asphalt as he brought the cab back under control and stamped on the gas. Readjusting the mirror to fit a man of his height, he saw the Audi was even closer now, and the gunman aiming to make another shot.
Decker swerved right and tried to lose them in the maze of smaller streets north of the Thames. He turned west and raced along the Strand. The plan was to get to Trafalgar Square and head south to Millbank and the safety of the MI5 headquarters, but then things took another turn for the worse.
“There’s more up ahead!” he yelled back to Selena and Ollie.
The replied in unison. “What?”
“There!” he pointed over the steering wheel. “Another car, a Mercedes. There’s a dude hanging out of the passenger side with a gun. I take it that’s not normal in London?”
“Well,” Oliver said. “Not the Strand, anyway.”
“They’re firing!” Selena cried out.
Decker swung the wheel hard to the left and skidded into the next available side street only to see another Black Cab racing directly toward him.
He honked the horn. “Get over, you idiot! You’re on the wrong side of the road!”
Oliver peered through the greasy partition. “It’s you on the wrong side, old boy. This is the entrance to the Savoy. Only road in the country where we drive on the right.”
Decker was perplexed. “Huh?”
“Do pull over before we crash.”
Decker took Oliver’s word for it and swung onto the wrong side of the road to a barrage of swearing from the cab driver now on his left.
“It’s an old tradition,” Oliver said, hanging on for his life. “Dating back to when people used to come in for the theater here and get out of horse-drawn carriages on the other side. The theater was here long before the hotel, you see.”
Decker shook his head. “This country just gets crazier and crazier.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment considering you come from a country where cheese comes in a spray can,” Oliver said.
Decker wasn’t listening. “The road’s running out!”
“It’s a turning circle.”
“It’s too small!”
“Nonsense, the Black Cab is specifically designed to make the turn without doing a three-point turn. These things have a better turning circle than a mini.”
Decker hit the brakes and spun around the circle. Driving on the wrong side in England meant the right side for him and for a few seconds he was back at home again, but then he saw both the Audi and the Merc heading down the entrance road. Gunmen in both vehicles leaned out of their cars and opened fire on the Black Cab. Their bullets ripped into the cab’s grille and burst the radiator, sending a cloud of steam into the air as other rounds went wide and exploded in the neon sign above the Savoy Theater’s entrance.
Speeding around the tiny roundabout, the wheels squealed like trapped piglets as he made the tight turn with inches to spare, and then he increased speed again to power out of the turn. “We need to return fire!”
Selena lowered the window and pushed her head and arm outside. Raising the gun into position, she fired at the approaching cars. The bullets struck the hood and windshield of the Audi and sent it smashing into the box hedge running along west side of the street, but the Merc was still racing toward them.
Selena fired again, her bullets puncturing the smooth gunmetal gray door of the Merc as it sailed past toward the turning circle. The driver responded by swerving wildly and hitting the gas, but the gunman fired again, this time striking one of the rear tires on their cab. It exploded and propelled a cloud of shredded black rubber into the air. One chunk landed with a dull thud on road and Decker immediately felt the vehicle swerving wildly.
“Can you control it?” Oliver asked.
“Sure.” He swerved back out onto the Strand. “But we’re running out of time. We have to get to MI5 before these guys catch up with us again. With a tire out like this we’re sitting ducks.” Checking the rear view mirror he saw the Merc powering out of the Savoy’s entrance and charging after them along the Strand. “They really want this jar, Ollie.”
