Chris drove as fast as he could down the winding streets, as Carl gazed out of the passenger window. In the back of the car, Louisa fidgeted uncomfortably, rubbing the bruise forming on her brow from the heavy impact with her assailant. To her side, Justin looked deep in thought, as he stared out into the night.
Long ago, Carl only ever wanted to serve his God. He fulfilled his duty with vigour. He was even given chance to be an attendant priest in the Vatican at just twenty-two. It was an honour he could not refuse. He loved his God and his church, and serving them in such a fashion was a validation of everything he believed.
However, it was clear from the start that love and honour were not enough. He was also fascinated by history.
There, amongst the many pilfered artefacts housed in the grandiose buildings of the Papal state, his doubts began to surface. Soon, his thirst for answers led to an uncomfortable silence surrounding him and shortly after the silence blanketed his every action, he was asked to leave.
Still wanting to do what he saw as good, Carl joined the American military as a chaplain. Four weeks later, in nineteen ninety-one, he was in Iraq. Although the conflict was brief, it was a wakeup call to his humanity. The suffering of the poor and innocent he bore witness to, too much for anyone of good conscience to bear. Therefore, when the military left, he stayed. He worked as a military envoy. Spreading the good word and assisting where he could with the rebuilding of the country. It was during the rebuilding process his thirst for knowledge rose to the surface and began to encroach upon everything.
Iraq held a rich and deep history. Inside its sandy borders lay the wonders of the oldest civilised peoples of the ancient world, the great ruins of Sumer and Assyria. He walked in the footsteps of the archaeologists of old, exploring the majestic ruins of Nineveh, Ur, and Larsa. What he found changed him forever. His God was not his own.
Carl cried the night he read the epic of Gilgamesh. Tears flowed down his cheeks, wetting his tunic as the words drifted from the page and smashed away his faith. His faith was a lie, and his most sacred book’s writers were nothing more than plagiarisers of ancient stories.
Soon, Carl found more and more evidence the tales he cherished so long were nothing more than regurgitated myths, given voice and character to sell them to their audience.
When the second war broke out ten years later, an insidious evil came with it. Looters began to strip the lands of everything, selling unimaginably ancient treasures to the highest bidder. The scattering of the lost history of the world was too much for Carl to witness. He publicly expressed his newfound beliefs, and the action sealed his fate.
Carl was excommunicated inside a week, ostracised from his faith. Nevertheless, it did not stop him. He took it as an opportunity. He travelled the world, learning as much as he could and trying to put the pieces of the lost story together. He took jobs in museums, his knowledge expanding as he catalogued their precious antiquities. Now he was here, on the run from unknown enemies and on a quest to locate the Ark of Ra. He was back on the trail of God, and this time he would find the truth.
Chris pulled in next to a row of beautiful, stone built apartments and flung the driver’s door open. Not waiting to explain, he ran to the kerb and up a short flight of steps to an ornate door.
“Where are we?” asked Louisa.
“I don’t know.” said Carl, lowering the window so he could hear what was going on. “But I’m sure Chris knows what he’s doing.”
However, it was clear as Chris charged back down the steps frowning, whatever plan he had was about to change.
“The door’s been jimmied. They’ve been here.” said Chris, as he climbed back into the car.
“Who’s been here?” asked Louisa. “Whose house is this?”
“Lieutenant Patrick; our pilot’s.”
“Sean Patrick?” asked Carl.
“Yeah. If they’ve been here, it’s probable to assume they thought we could be staying with him.”
“We’ve got to go and see if he’s up there.” said Carl, fumbling with the door handle. “He’s got three kids.”
“It’s too late, Carl.” said Chris, firmly. “If they’ve been here then they’re already as dead as we should have been. You know the drill, leave no witnesses.”
Carl closed his eyes and shook his head. Yet more innocent blood was on his hands.
“He was a good man.” said Chris, placing a comforting hand on Carl’s shoulder. “He knew agreeing to help us in case of need had its risks, but he also knew that’s what set him apart from everyone else. He’s a loss to everyone who shared his life.”
“Yeah, I guess. But his kids…”
“Killing a child is a vile act; the act of a coward. We have to be strong. We have to keep going and finish this. We can’t let the monsters that did this get away with it.”
Carl looked up at his friend and saw the steel in his eyes. He was right. “To do that we need to know what they know. We need to try and get ahead of these guys, Chris.”
“Agreed. God knows how many more operatives are on our tail.”
“All we need now is a way out of here.”
“It’s a risk, but I’m going to have to call in another favour.” said Chris, dragging his phone from his pocket and slipping a SIM card into it. “This guy owes me, but he’s not going to like that I’m contacting him. If anyone outside the UK knows what happened this morning, you can bet I’m ringing him.”
Carl was nervous. Chris was not a risk taker. If he was stepping out on a limb, it meant he was worried. In all the time he spent with Chris in Iraq during both wars, he had never once even come close to seeing him this way. It was unsettling.
The call was arduous; ten minutes of watching Chris struggle to find a way to convince whom he was calling to take his word for what happened. As the conversation neared its conclusion, Chris’ furrowed brow relaxed, he removed a pad from his pocket, and started making notes. After signing off with a grateful thank you, Chris dismantled his phone and tossed the SIM out into the night.
“Are we on?” Carl asked, more sure of a positive response than he had been at the start of the call.
“Just.” said Chris, starting the engine. “We have a stop to make first. We need to lay a bait trail.”
They scorched through the empty Amsterdam streets, leaving the city behind and making their way out toward Schiphol once more. Soon, they were pulling into an empty bay at the hanger where only hours earlier they arrived.
Chris flung the door open and strode out of the car toward the building, Carl in tow.
“Follow at a careful distance.” said Carl, to Justin and Louisa. “We’ve no idea who might be here.”
The entrance’s aluminium cover was pulled open, the metal wrenched asunder and the door smashed. The inside of the office was dark, save for the bluish glow coming from a computer monitor. The soft tone, reflected from the magnolia walls, washed the space in a murky ambience that seemed to float above the objects it illuminated.
Carl scanned the room. The cabinets lining the walls emptied, their travel magazines and tourist information booklets piled around their bases and the desks looted.
Carl carefully moved inside, every one of his senses on alert, as Chris made a brief check of the small kitchenette and waiting room.
Chris motioned for Carl to advance to the hanger door, flinging it open at his signal. The hanger was drenched in inky silence, as black as the night outside. Carl reached round its chunky frame and fumbled for the light switch. The hanger shuddered into life, but nothing moved in the vast space.
“It’s clear.” said Chris, tucking his gun back into his belt and ushering Justin over to the computer screen. “You’re our best shot at figuring this out quickly. Get into the system and get a flight plan logged for as soon as you can. I’ll give you the details. Carl, I need to know of anywhere else that might be a logical next step for us. Somewhere far away would be good.”
“Mesoamerica.” said Carl, leaning over the desk. “If we?
??re following the trail of the Ark based on the clues Dave gave us, Mexico City would seem like a good target.”
Justin accessed the system and after a brief inspection of the layout, was soon punching data into a form, as Carl and Chris watched on and provided the finer detail required.
Once done, Chris asked Justin to do a poor job of trying to hide what he had done. Their bait trail was in place.
“Now, let’s get to the airport. My contact won’t wait long.” said Chris, heading for the exit.
“I have a question.” said Louisa, not moving. “If you can trust this man to get us out of the country, then how can you not trust him to be our protector? You said we needed to find someone to go to with our story. Surely we’ve found one.”
“I don’t trust him though.” said Chris. “He’s an old black-ops colleague of mine, hiring out his skills as a mercenary. He serves money, nothing more. However, he owes me his life. If we’re going to get out of here, he’s our best shot.”
“Are you sure about this, Chris.” asked Carl, acutely aware of how rotten certain eggs could become once money was involved.
“If we stay, we definitely all die.” said Chris, his features drawing tight with the severity of his words. “If we trust this guy with our story, he could sell us to the highest bidder, and we’ll almost certainly die. However, if we use him to get out of here, then we might live, unless it’s a trap, and then we won’t.” He paused, shaking his head as his voice took on a hint of uncertainty. “I’ve got nothing else. All my escape routes are blown and my friend, the one person who could have helped us, is now dead. If anyone has a better suggestion, I’m all ears.”
“It looks like we’re backed into a corner.” said Carl, unable to assist.
“We can’t stand around here discussing this any longer. Someone make the call.” said Chris, pushing for a response.
“Let’s do it.” said Justin, confidently. “If it’s the best we’ve got, then we take it.”
“Louisa?”
“I need some sleep, some aspirin for my headache, and a bath. If you can promise to get me those things at some point, I will do just about anything you ask.”
“I’ll do my best.” said Chris, with a smile. “Let’s move.”
They left the offices behind and started the long jog around the perimeter of the airport.
It had been many years since Carl had done more than the most basic exercise, and he struggled to keep pace as they strode onward. Even Justin, burdened with the duffel, made the run look effortless. When this was over, he promised himself he would get a gym membership and sort his state of physical disrepair out.
Ten minutes later, Chris stopped by a mesh fence, to one side of a catering facility on the edge of the main terminus. “We wait here.” he said, looking at Carl and grinning. “It looks like someone could do with the rest anyhow.”
Carl could not find the energy to muster a response. He flopped onto the grass verge and tried to take deep breaths, hoping his perspiration would diminish.
Only a few moments later, a grey saloon pulled up next to them and the passenger door opened. “Get in. We haven’t got long.” said the driver.
Chris climbed into the passenger seat and Carl opened the rear door and graciously allowed Justin and Louisa to take up positions on the back seat before squeezing in next to them.
Carl prided himself on being a reasonable judge of character, and looking at the massive man in the driver’s seat did not give him the cosy feeling he was hoping for.
The driver was at least six-six, and wore a tight, linen shirt to project his muscular frame. His ripped arms were covered in tattoos and his goatee and sunglasses counterpointed the ridges of his shaved scalp.
As they pulled away from the kerb, the man turned to Chris and smiled. “You finally made a mistake, hey bro.” he said, in a strange, metrosexual tone. “There’s some wipes and other cleaning stuff in a bag on the parcel shelf. You should try to get yourselves looking as smart as possible. You’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that. The wires are lit up with folk looking for you. There’s a handsome bounty out there for someone.”
“Try it and die.” said Chris, his pistol laid across his lap.
“It’s going to be like that, is it?” said the man, grinning widely and showing off a frightening array of golden teeth. “You should know that if I wanted to hand you in…”
“Stow it.” said Chris, sternly. “Just tell me you have a way out for us.”
“I do. I owe you and I pay my debts. You can put the toy down.”
“Not until we’re clear.”
“Have it your way.” said the man, with a chortle. “You might want to hide the pea-shooter for the barriers ahead though. Do you have your documents?”
The car turned into a brightly lit security checkpoint. A guard holding an assault rifle stepped out from the small booth, as Chris tucked the gun back under his jacket and handed over their newly acquired passports.
“Good evening sir.” said the driver, as he wound the window down. He reached into the side panel of the door, retrieved a copy of an official looking document, and handed it and their passports over. “I believe the reason for our arrival should have been communicated already. I hope everything is in order.”
The guard looked at the docs and into the faces in the car, before he headed to the booth and returned with a clipboard and a handful of security passes. “The documents are in order, Mister Grainger. I’m glad that we could come to this arrangement.”
“It’s a pleasure.” said the driver, as the guard lifted the security barrier and allowed them through.
Chris checked the passes, as the car stopped by an unmarked entrance where two more security guards stood either side of a windowless door.
“You’re travelling as diplomats. Don’t make a scene and everything will be fine. You can ignore security points by flashing them at the barriers. Your flight leaves in forty minutes. Don’t try to make small talk with anyone. Act as though you know what you are doing and you are too busy and important to be bothered by the mundane. From what I remember colonel, you should find that easy.”
“Debt repaid.” said Chris, as he motioned for the group to exit the vehicle. “I don’t know what you gave up back there, but thanks.”
“The man is part of a syndicate running drugs. I just gave him a nudge to say that I know what he’s doing, but will stay out of his way for a favour.”
“All the same, thank you.”
“Best save those thanks, colonel. My debt is cleared. If you ever cross my radar again, know you’re fair game.”
Carl watched as the driver slammed the passenger door and sped off into the night, leaving them alone outside the austere edifice of the airport. “He doesn’t look like the sort of guy you need on your tail.”
“He’s not.” said Chris, watching the man disappear. “But we’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ll deal with him later. Right now, we need to get on our flight.”
Chapter 27