The Venice Code (25 page)

Lucky bastard.

He had met Leroux during the New Orleans crisis. He seemed like a good kid. Brilliant, of that there was no doubt. Good looking too in an awkward kind of way.

There’s no accounting for taste.

His mind drifted to Maggie. At least ten years White’s senior, but another fantastic looking woman. He just wondered if she were right for him, and whether or not getting into a relationship was the right thing.

Why the hell not? Half the guys are married, the other half have girlfriends. Why not you?

Their Hercules came to a halt and he took a look out one of the small windows. It was dark outside, little artificial light in the area. Several vehicles were pulling to a stop nearby, clearly their escort.

“Ready?” he asked their CIA liaison who gave a quick nod.

The rear ramp lowered and Dawson exited first, chivalry having no place in the military. Agent White followed as the others began to collect their gear, the orders to keep it light.

“Mr. White, I presume,” said a smiling young man wearing civilian clothes, his hand extended. “Call me David.”

Dawson nodded, shaking the man’s hand, who nodded at Agent White but didn’t introduce himself to her.
The less bullshit with aliases the better.
He led the two of them toward one of the vehicles as the Herc’s engines continued to power down.

“Any word on our friends?” asked Dawson when they were far enough away to have a conversation without having to shout.

“Unfortunately, yes. Your friends were kidnapped from their hotel at gunpoint. We are trying to trace them now, but don’t expect much success.”

Dawson didn’t like the sound of that. Clearly Kane had used Hamas or Fatah to get them into the West Bank, probably through an illegal tunnel.

What the hell were you thinking?

Dawson knew Kane would do nothing to intentionally harm Professor Acton, they apparently having history, so if Kane trusted these people enough to put somebody important to him in their hands, he had to assume they would be taken care of.

“How bad was it?”

“The footage I saw in the parking garage looked a little rough, but nothing too bad. Unfortunately this Professor Acton put up a bit of resistance. I read his file. He’s got quite the history over the past few years.”

“Yeah, he’s a goddamned magnet for trouble, that guy.”

David laughed. “I know the type. Some say I am one as well. Others say I enjoy the hunt too much.”

Dawson cracked half a smile. “I think we’ve all been accused of that once or twice in this business.”

David nodded. “So we are assuming your friends have made it into the West Bank by this point. You will want to follow them, of course?

“Yes. Will it be a problem?”

The man shook his head, his lips jutting out. “No, not at all. We’re inserting teams all the time. Do you know where they were going?”

“Some Greek monastery. St. Gerasimos.”

David’s head bobbed. “Yes, I know of this place. The Arabs call it Deir Hajla.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Why the hell would they want to go there?”

Dawson shook his head, deciding to leave the crystal skulls and Triarii out of the conversation. “They’re archeologists. We’re pretty sure they’re being coerced into this,” said Dawson. “And we’re pretty sure it involves those who kidnapped President Jackson’s son. We expect them to either be here already, or to be here shortly.”

David frowned. “We had a plane arrive a couple of hours ago from Munich. An anonymous tip told us it didn’t properly clear customs. We’re interrogating those involved now.”

“Any luck?”

“No, but we have our methods.”

Dawson knew what that meant and didn’t need any more details to know it went way beyond what people were worried about at Guantanamo. He looked behind him to see his team ready, Red giving him the nod.

“How quickly can you insert us?” asked Sherrie.

“Within the hour.”

Dawson nodded, pleased with the speed.
We just might catch up to them.
“How?”

“I’ll deliver you myself,” said David with a smile, turning and pointing to a white cube van with UN markings.

“Ahh, a diplomatic vehicle,” said Dawson with a smile.

“How will you get us through their checkpoint?” asked Sherrie. “Won’t they want to search it?”

“Good question,” said David as they walked toward the vehicle, “
if
we were using a border crossing. We will use one of our—shall we say ‘express?—methods of entry.”

Dawson and Sherrie exchanged glances.

“Can’t wait,” said Sherrie as she climbed into the back of the already opened van. The eight man Delta team, including Dawson, joined her, David closing then locking the back. Dawson frowned, not liking that part. He turned to his men.

“Anyone have C4?”

Several nods and the patting of a pocket or two was the response.

“Good. Let’s keep in mind we have keys just in case our friend decides not to let us out.”

There were several chuckles as the van started to roll.

Toward what he wasn’t sure. Were they about to simply escort the professors and their INTERPOL friend out of the West Bank? Were they going to have to fight those who had brought them in—most likely terrorists? Would Jackson’s kidnappers be there? Would Jackson himself be there? And whose side would he be on? And would the Triarii be there, manipulating things in the background as they always did?

I hate cults. Give me a good terror cell any day.

South East of Jericho, West Bank, Israel

Present day, three days after the kidnapping

“You can take your hoods off,” said a voice that sounded much like Alamar. Acton yanked his off immediately, breathing a sigh of relief as he was finally able to take a full breath without sucking in the cloth or feeling the humidity from his lungs fill the bag. He looked about, giving Laura a squeeze on the leg and a nod to Reading who looked equally relieved. His eyes rested on Alamar.

“When did you get here?”

Alamar turned in his seat. “I came through a few minutes after you, just in case there was a problem.”

“I see,” said Acton. “Why stick your own neck out when you can stick someone elses?”

Alamar threw his head back and laughed. “Exactly!”

“Where are we?” asked Acton, noticing they weren’t on a road but instead some type of trail.

“We’re almost there. We’re taking back roads to avoid the checkpoints.”

“I thought this was Palestinian territory?” asked Laura, leaning forward and looking ahead.

“Hah! That’s what you are meant to believe! The reality is less than twenty percent of the land is controlled by Palestinians. Another twenty percent the Israeli’s
graciously
let us administer while their soldiers watch over us. The rest, the vast majority, is under complete Israeli control, including the area where you want to go.”

Laura looked at Acton then back at Alamar, her expression one of concern. “What will happen if we’re stopped?”

Alamar slapped the AK-47 sitting in his lap. “We kill them, or they kill us.”

Acton didn’t like the sound of that and hoped for everyone’s sake the rest of their journey was uneventful. He suddenly tweaked on what was said. “We’re almost there already?”

Alamar nodded. “This isn’t Kansas, Professor. The West Bank is maybe forty kilometers wide. If we could take the highway we would have been there long ago.”

A burst of Arabic from the driver and some pointing.

“It looks like we fight!” yelled Alamar as a military jeep crested a ridge in front of them, four men jumping out, automatic weapons at the ready. The driver hammered on the brakes and they skidded to a halt on the dirt road. Alamar and the driver jumped out along with two other men who were in the back with Acton, Laura and Reading. Gunfire erupted from all around them and Acton could see one of the Israeli soldiers already on the ground, wounded. He was grabbed by a comrade and pulled to the other side of their jeep, the other two providing cover fire as they retreated to the other side.

Acton looked out the back and saw no one. He climbed over the rear seats and stepped out. The two men from the back were on either side of the vehicle, near the opened front doors, firing at the Israeli patrol. The windshield took several hits, the bullets racing through and tearing up the cabin. Acton looked at Laura and Reading.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said in a harsh whisper. Laura jumped over the seats, Reading following and the three of them were soon running away from the vehicle, keeping it between them and the Israelis. They cleared a ridge and dropped to the ground. Acton scrambled back up and looked, the gun battle continuing, one of the terrorists now on the ground, the sides evenly matched at three apiece.

Acton pulled out his phone and activated the GPS. He turned to the others. “Let’s follow this ridge and go around them. According to this”—he shook his phone—“we’re only two kilometers west of the monastery.”

“Let’s do it,” said Reading. “The Israeli’s will be sending in reinforcements any minute now.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” said Laura, turning and running at a crouch along the bottom of the ridge. Acton grinned at Reading then followed, the gunfire quickly fading. They turned east, toward the monastery, and within about ten minutes Acton came to a halt.

“The shooting stopped.”

Laura and Reading paused and listened as well.

“I wonder who won?” asked Laura, resuming their walk. “I hope it was the Israeli’s.”

“Just remember, those bastards were our way out. Now we’re stuck in Palestinian territory, having illegally entered. Even if we get this blasted skull, we have no way out.”

“You heard Alamar. This is Israeli controlled. We just need to turn ourselves in, claim we were kidnapped, and get things straightened out at the embassy,” said Acton.

“Riiight, with a bloody crystal skull slung over your shoulder.” Reading shook his head. “They’ll confiscate it—defeating the entire purpose of this trip—and toss us in jail for antiquities theft. You two will probably just get more street cred or whatever the hell it is you Americans call it, and I’ll lose my job.”

“That’s the spirit!” laughed Acton as they crested a ridge. He pointed. “That must be it.”

Below, a well maintained road crossed from north to south, and beyond that was a cluster of buildings, many looking quite old.

“It must be,” agreed Laura as they crossed toward the road. A quick scan up and down showed it empty.

“We still need a plan to get out of here,” reminded Reading as they walked up the small drive toward a large parking area before the walled compound.

“One thing at a time,” replied Acton. “Maybe we call the tourist bureau for help getting out.”

“Tourist bureau?” asked Reading.

Acton realized he hadn’t given that detail of his conversation with the airport customs officer who was Triarii. He decided not to get into it now as the entrance of the monastery neared. “Look on the bright side,” he said, turning to Reading. “Maybe the skull isn’t even here, and we can just get arrested for trespassing instead of trespassing and theft!” He grinned.

Reading frowned. “Bloody Yanks and their sense of humor.” He turned to Laura. “And you better watch yourself. You’re becoming just like him!”

Laura laughed and wrapped an arm around Acton’s waist. “I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

Reading threw his head in the air in frustration as they passed through the gates. The monastery appeared to be a tourist attraction now, but apparently not a very popular one since the parking area was empty save a truck that appeared to belong to the monks.

“We’re not open yet,” called a voice. Acton turned to see a middle-aged woman approaching along the south wall. “You’re welcome to wait, of course, but we don’t open for a few more hours.” The woman came to a halt, her jaw dropping. “Are you Professor Acton?”

Acton flushed slightly, and nodded. “Yes I am. Do we know each other?”

The woman’s hand flew to her chest. “
You
know
me
? Heaven’s no. But I of course know about you. And you must be Professor Palmer! I feel like I’m meeting celebrities!”

Acton wasn’t sure what to say, but decided to play on the woman’s apparent celebrity worship. “We were hoping to see the burial sites. Specifically those from around the late thirteenth century?”

“Of course! Of course! The Abbot will be thrilled to meet you. He’s an archeology buff as am I. We’ve both followed your career with great interest. I have all of the National Geographic articles on you, newspaper articles—oh, just everything!” She suddenly turned to Reading. “Are you anybody?”

Reading shook his head. “Apparently not.”

The woman eyed him for a few more seconds, then waved for them to follow her inside. Acton grinned at Reading and whispered.

“You’re somebody to me, Hugh.”

Reading slugged him in the shoulder.

Unknown Location, Israel

Present day, three days after the kidnapping

Dawson instinctively ran his finger over his Glock as someone unlocked the rear door of their delivery vehicle. The door was thrown open and a smiling “David” stood there, Dawson positive that wasn’t their Mossad contact’s name any more than Mr. White was his.

“Delivered, as promised. And in less than thirty minutes, I might add,” he said with a wag of the finger and a grin. “Israel expects a big tip for helping you retrieve President Jackson’s son.”

Dawson climbed out and looked about before turning to David. “Well, the White House is currently Democratic, and Jackson was Republican, so you might have to wait awhile for that favor.”

David roared in laughter, clearly more comfortable where they now were. From what he could tell they were still at a military installation, just a different one, this not an airport, however at least half a dozen black, heavily armed helicopters were within sight along with mock-up training areas. If he had to guess, they were now at a Mossad base.

Agent White joined them, helped down by Niner. She looked about and turned to David.