Al-Hassani lit his pipe. He had the foreign minister of India waiting to see him, followed by another six hours of meetings with various leaders from what was left of Syria, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the several Central Asian republics. So far, everything was on schedule. Terms were being negotiated. Deals were being cut. He hoped to have his own announcement to make to the world soon. But so much depended upon Lucente.
“. . . and, of course, for the last several years he has served ably as the European Union foreign minister where he has helped improve relations between India and Pakistan, assisted in defusing tensions between North and South Korea, and helped manage the crisis we had between Russia and Israel last year. Personally, I cannot think of a better man to lead the United Nations in this critical hour, and it is my hope . . . ”
Enough, thought Al-Hassani. Let the man speak.
Several minutes later, Lucente finally took his place behind the podium and bank of microphones.
“What a tremendous honor to be considered for this position,” he began. “It is one that I take very seriously, and should I be acceptable to the nations of this esteemed body, I will do everything in my power to continue the important structural and institutional reforms Secretary-General Pipilo has begun to implement and to bring peace and prosperity to the developing nations of our world. Out of respect for the process, I will not take any questions until I have had the opportunity to meet personally with each representative on the Security Council. I promise, however, to hold a press conference very soon so I can answer your questions, of which I am sure there are many.
“That said, I do want to say that my top two priorities as secretary-general would be, number one, to accelerate both the relief and reconstruction efforts in those countries devastated by the firestorm and earthquake of a few months ago, and number two, to get oil flowing out of the Middle East once again, so we can bring down prices and reinvigorate the global economy.
“Neither of these tasks will be easy, of course. They will require an enormous degree of cooperation, particularly with countries such as Israel and Iraq. As you know, I have just come from meetings with leaders in those countries, and I can tell you that both Prime Minister Doron and President Al-Hassani have personally assured me that they will do everything possible to reduce tensions in the region and get Middle Eastern oil back on the market. Indeed, to that end, I hope to have a major announcement for you very shortly. Thank you all very much.”
56
MONDAY, JANUARY 19 – 8:36 p.m. – TIBERIAS, ISRAEL
The three of them pored over every map they could find.
Mount Ebal was south of them, about halfway between Tiberias and Jerusalem, not far from the Palestinian town of Nablus, known in ancient times as Shechem. Yet according to Natasha, very few serious archeological excavations had ever been done there. Most scholars focused on the Roman and Samaritan ruins on Gerizim. Thus the kind of access roads found on Gerizim simply didn’t exist on Ebal.
What’s more, they had neither the time nor the manpower to scour the entire mountain. One wrong move could mean being arrested by Israeli forces or shot by one of Farouk’s men.
Bennett turned to his wife. “What do you think?”
“With what we’ve got?” she asked. “I don’t think we’ll make it. We don’t even know where to start.”
“Any suggestions?”
“We need satellite photos,” said Erin. “Plain and simple. These maps simply aren’t good enough. We need to study every nook and cranny of the mountain, look for cave openings, do thermal imaging, hunt for underground tunnels—that kind of thing.”
“What about Rajiv?” Bennett suggested. “She helped us before. Maybe you could call her again.”
“Who’s Rajiv?” asked Natasha.
“A friend of mine at CIA,” said Erin. “She’s the one who helped us get into Mordechai’s house the other night.”
“So what do you think?” asked Bennett.
Erin looked uneasy. “To do it, she’d have to retask the satellite again.”
“She did it once for you.”
“I know, but I can’t ask her again. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”
“You really think she’d turn us in?”
“No, but it’s not just her. Claire at the National Recon Office, Bobby at NGA, maybe a few more, would have to be involved. We’d be putting Rajiv in a terrible position. She could lose her job. She could go to prison.”
Bennett sighed. “It’s not like our cup of options runneth over,” he noted. “Call her. The worst that can happen is she’ll say no.”
* * *
Mariano called with another update.
Al-Hassani said good-bye to the Indian foreign minister and took the secure call.
“We’ve had a complication,” Mariano began.
“Don’t tell me you lost them,” said Al-Hassani.
“No, no, it’s Doron,” said Mariano. “He’s appointed a government commission to finalize a design for the Third Temple.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish I were,” said Mariano. “But the news just broke here, and Farouk is going nuts. I’m telling you, he’s lost it, Your Excellency. He just called to say he wants me to kill the Bennetts, take the Barak girl hostage, and force her to lead us to the Ark. And if I don’t do it, he’ll find someone who will.”
“The fool!” snapped Al-Hassani. “He’ll ruin everything. I don’t want them touched until we see how far they can take us or unless they turn themselves in.”
“But Farouk is threatening to pull his money,” said Mariano.
“I don’t need his money,” Al-Hassani fumed. “I don’t need him at all.”
“This was his idea,” Mariano recalled. “And he has gotten us this far.”
“And he’s becoming a liability. Where is he now?”
“In a house outside of Amman, sir.”
“You know what to do, Viggo,” Al-Hassani said calmly. “Just make it look like a suicide.”
* * *
“Rajiv isn’t answering.”
“Did you try her cell phone?” Bennett asked.
“Twice,” said Erin. “All I got was voice mail.”
Bennett glanced out the window. It was already dark. If they were going to move, it would have to be soon. “Any suggestions?” he asked, not expecting any.
“Actually, one,” said Erin.
“What is it?”
“Come here,” she said as she logged on to the Internet and went to earth.google.com.
“What is that?” asked Natasha.
“Open-source satellite imagery. I’ll need to download the software and install it, but it’s free, and it just might help,” Erin said.
Moments later the download was complete. Erin quickly executed the installation procedures and launched the application.
“What is this going to do for us, exactly?” Natasha asked.
Erin clicked on More Information, which Natasha read aloud.
“Point and zoom to anyplace on the planet that you want to explore. Satellite images and local facts zoom into view. Tap into Google search to show local points of interest and facts. Zoom to a specific address to check out an apartment or hotel. View driving directions and even fly along your route.”
On the screen, a star field appeared with a small image of planet Earth in the center, as seen from 39,189.76 miles up. Next, Erin typed in Tiberias, Israel. Instantly, the computer began to take them on a guided flight from outer space to a remarkably clear view of the seaside city from 13,044 feet up. The image was all blurry until she hit Control F6 followed by a cheat code she’d learned from her days at Langley. This enabled her to bypass the scrambling software that Israel had demanded Google include so enemies of the Jewish state couldn’t use the site to target missile or bomber strikes.
Suddenly the topography was crystal clear.
“That’s incredible,” Natasha marveled.
“What street are we on again?” asked Erin.
“Ehad Ha’am Street,” said Natasha.
Erin clicked a small icon called Roads, and suddenly bright red lines marked every road in and around Tiberias, small and large, showing street names in bright white letters. She found the right street, manipulated the controls a bit further, and they were zooming in to five thousand feet, then a thousand feet, then just a few hundred feet until they were looking through the kitchen windows of the very house they were sitting in.
“Pretty cool, huh?”
Natasha gasped. “It’s amazing! If I walk out on the balcony, will you be able to see me?”
Erin laughed. “Sorry, it’s not real time. But the resolution is actually quite extraordinary for a nonmilitary satellite.”
“I’ll say,” said Natasha, examining the picture more closely.
“And check this out,” said Erin. “You can rotate it to see the other side of the house as well.”
“Look, you can even read the number on the front door,” said Natasha.
“Can you pull up Mount Ebal?” said Bennett, checking his watch again.
“Absolutely,” said Erin. “That’s where I’m headed.”
She zoomed out for a moment, panned southward to Nablus, and found the distinctive slopes of Mount Ebal. For the next twenty minutes, the three of them scoured every square inch of the “mountain of curses.” Sure enough, there were no roads of any kind. But they did find nine cave openings—six on the south and east fronts, one on the north side, and two on the west.
“So what should we do?” asked Erin. “We don’t have time to explore all nine. We barely have enough time to explore one.”
“And we need to get moving if we’ve got any prayer of getting something done tonight,” said Natasha.
Erin turned to her husband. “Want to just pick one at random?”
But Bennett was chewing on something. “What was that verse again? The one that begins, ‘as you know’?”
“Deuteronomy 11:30,” said Natasha.
“Can you look it up again?”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure, but . . . ” His voice trailed off.
Natasha found the verse and began reading it aloud.
“As you know,
these mountains are
across the Jordan,
west of the road,
toward the setting sun,
near the giant trees of—”
“There, that’s it,” said Bennett, apologizing for cutting her off. “West of the road. That’s what we’re looking for. Caves on the west side. I know it’s thin. But it’s the only geographic reference in the whole scroll. I say we go with it and pray for mercy.”
57
MONDAY, JANUARY 19 – 9:48 p.m. – TIBERIAS, ISRAEL
“They’re moving.”
Mariano realized he had drifted off. “Who’s moving?” he asked, trying to shake off his fatigue.
“The Bennetts and the Barak girl.”
“When?”
“They just pulled out. Rosetti’s got two vehicles following them. We’ve got another car waiting for you.”
“Have they got radios?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Make sure they don’t get too close. If they spot them, we’re dead. They’ll vanish and we may never pick them up again.”
“I’m on it, sir. And we’re ready to roll when you are.”
“No,” said Mariano. “Let Rosetti handle it. Get me into that house. I want to see everything they’ve been doing and get it all to Al-Hassani.”
* * *
They raced to Mount Ebal in the dark of night.
By eleven local time, with the help of the Navigator’s GPS, they reached the outskirts of the Palestinian stronghold of Nablus, and in another fifteen minutes, they reached the base of Mount Ebal and realized anew what a long climb they had ahead. After hiding the SUV in a patch of brush, they gathered their equipment and began working their way up the north face.
Natasha’s maps put the summit at about three thousand feet above sea level, but they weren’t going to have to go quite that far. The two caves they had seen on the mountain’s west side in the satellite imagery were located two-thirds of the way up, and roughly a hundred and fifty yards apart. For tonight, at least, these were the targets, and they quickly began their ascent.
* * *
Mariano crept up the stairs of the Gozal house.
He held a .45 in one hand, a flashlight in the other. He didn’t expect trouble, but he hated surprises. Having already found the maps and the laptops and a dozen unwashed coffee mugs spread across the kitchen, he headed for the master bedroom and soon came across the medical supplies that had helped Erin Bennett recover over the past few days.
“Put one over there and another in the lamp,” he said, directing two of his men as they planted microphones throughout the house.
They had been listening to the Bennetts’ conversations for days using laser microphones aimed at Miriam Gozal’s windows, but they had been imperfect at best and hadn’t worked at all when their subjects had been in the basement.
Mariano’s phone began vibrating.
“Rosetti?” Mariano whispered into a headset.
“Yes, sir. We’re about a mile and a half from the base.”
“Do you have a visual?”
“Affirmative. The Barak girl is about halfway up. Mr. Bennett is close behind. Mrs. Bennett is a ways back. She’s struggling quite a bit.”
I bet she is, thought Mariano, still surprised that Erin hadn’t died from hypothermia under the DMZ.
“Stay on them,” he said, “and stay out of sight.”
* * *
He was going in alone.
Bennett doubled-checked his harness and helmet. He took another few minutes to check over the rest of his equipment as well and to make sure Erin and Natasha were ready. Then he turned on his headlamp and eased toward the edge of the cave.
Bennett could that tell his wife wasn’t enthusiastic about his doing this without her, but there was no other way. Erin had barely recovered, and Bennett didn’t feel right about sending Natasha in by herself, no matter how experienced she was.
“All set?” he asked as he donned gloves and took hold of the nylon rope.
“Ready when you are,” Natasha replied.
“Just be more careful than me in there,” Erin said.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I will.” He gave Erin such a long kiss that Natasha had to turn away in embarrassment.
“I love you,” Erin whispered into his ear.
“I love you, too.”
“All right, you two,” Natasha groaned, “move it along.”
Erin apologized and Bennett wondered if Natasha could see him blush in the dark. He didn’t wait to find out. A moment later, he was rappelling into the cave. As best they could tell, the descent was rougly sixty-five or seventy feet down into the mountain. Where it went from there, he had no idea.
Bennett took his time, lowering himself a few yards, checking his equipment, letting Erin and Natasha adjust to his weight, then dropping another few yards. At the bottom, he finally remembered to turn on his radio.
“Testing, one, two, three—can you guys hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” said Erin. “What can you see?”
“Not much. But, man, it stinks down here. What in the world is—?”
Suddenly there was a high-pitched screeching sound and a rush of wind. Before he knew it hundreds of bats were swarming all around him. He dropped to the ground and covered his head and face, but he could feel them everywhere—on his back and legs and hands and flapping around his ears. From the deepest recesses of the cave they just kept coming. After what seemed like an eternity, the horrifying cacophony tapered off, and all was quiet again.
Only then did he realize that what he was lying in wasn’t mud but a huge pool of bat guano. He radioed to the top that he was fine, but he could feel his heart pounding and the humidity rising, and he w
as beginning to perspire in all his gear.
* * *
No one tells a billionaire he snores.
So Abdullah Farouk had no idea. None of his wives or concubines back in Riyadh had ever told him. Nor had any of his lovers around the globe. And unbeknownst to him, both of his bodyguards used earplugs at night so they wouldn’t have to suffer his horrible racket.
Tonight, they would suffer far worse.
The guard by the back door was the first to die. He was shot in the chest with a silencer, then dragged out of the house and loaded into a stolen bakery truck. The guard by the front door got a steel pipe over the head and a knife across his throat.
Before Farouk realized what was happening, four men were upon him. Two held him down while a third stuffed a rag down his throat. The fourth jammed a needle into his wrist, injecting a lethal but traceless toxin. Farouk twisted and writhed in pain, but a minute later, both the snoring and the muffled screams had ceased. The four men stripped his body, carried him into the bathroom, and set him in the tub. Then they drew a nice, hot bath, waited for the tub to fill, and slit Farouk’s wrists, leaving the razor blade on the bloody tiled floor.
Sixty seconds later, a baker’s truck rolled through the streets of Amman, attracting no attention at all.
58
TUESDAY, JANUARY 20 – 2:31 a.m. – MOUNT EBAL, THE WEST BANK
Nearly three hours had passed.
Bennett had found nothing yet. He wanted to make sure he would be able to find his way back through the labyrinthine series of tunnels and small corridors branching off the main passageway, so he dropped glow sticks every twenty yards or so. He pressed onward.
At the beginning, the tunnel had been about four feet from one side to another. Now, as he continued his descent, the walls narrowed steadily. At the same time, the tunnel began to shrink from six or seven feet high near the entrance to a point where it was less than three feet high, forcing him to crawl on his hands and knees through more bat droppings and who knew what else.