Alex Lukeman

The Cup

The PROJECT is an elite counter-terrorism/intelligence unit answering only to the President of the United States.

The Team

Elizabeth Harker: Director of the Project. Formerly part of the task force investigating 9/11 until sidelined for challenging the findings. Picked by the president to head up the Project for her independent thinking and sharp intelligence.

Nick Carter: Former major, USMC. The team leader in the field, with years of combat experience. Suffers from occasional PTSD and nightmares. He's got it more or less under control.

Selena Connor: Highly intelligent, a renowned linguist in ancient languages and expert in martial arts. Independently wealthy, the result of an inheritance. Introduced into Nick's violent world by accident, she is now a full fledged member of the Project team.

Lamont Cameron: Former Navy Seal, of Ethiopian descent. Expert in all things water related. His humorous attitude sometimes drives Elizabeth Harker to distraction. A tough cookie.

Ronnie Peete: Nick's oldest friend and a fellow RECON Marine. Expert with explosives, weapons and all things mechanical. A full blooded Navajo, Ronnie brings solidity and the wisdom of his culture to the team.

Stephanie Willits: Elizabeth Harker's deputy; computer guru. Stephanie maintains the Project's Cray computers. She can hack into any system as needed. Among other duties, she is responsible for the satellite communication network that keeps Harker up to speed and the team connected in the field.

"Woe to the inhabiters of the earth and of the sea! For the Devil is come down among you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time… "

— The Book of Revelation, 12:12

PROLOGUE: Milan, 395 CE

The Emperor of Rome lay dying.

The odor of his decaying, swollen body filled the room. His two sons had been sent away with a final kiss a half hour before and now his confessor knelt by the bed reciting prayers. Two of the emperor's generals looked on.

Death was in the room.

The priest finished his prayers and bent to hear the emperor's whispered words.

"Anastasius… send them away."

The priest stood, an imposing figure in a black robe, a man who knew he spoke with the authority of God. His look was fierce.

"He commands you all to leave."

"We must witness the death."

The speaker was Stillicho, guardian of Honorius, the ten-year-old boy who would rule in the West. Next to him stood Flavius Rufinus, guardian of Theodosius' other son, Arcadius. He would rule in the East.

"Obey your emperor." The priest's voice was stern. "Soon enough you can do as you will."

The two men bowed and backed out of the room, closing the door behind them. Theodosius spoke to the priest again, his voice little more than a whisper.

"Where…?"

"I will take it to the monastery, Majesty. All will be well."

"These men… Rufinus and the others. They are corrupt. They must not have it."

A violent fit of coughing seized him. He clutched at the covers and struggled for breath. Anastasius held the emperor's head and wiped mucus from his lips with a cloth.

The spasm passed. Theodosius fell back against his pillows. He raised a trembling hand and pointed at an ornate standing cabinet across the room.

"… the cabinet."

The priest went to the cabinet and opened the door, reached in and took out a package the size of a loaf of bread, wrapped in cloth of gold. A harsh, gasping rattle made him turn in time to see Theodosius draw his final breath.

The last emperor of one Roman Empire was dead.

The priest closed the dead man's eyes, made the sign of the cross and said another prayer for Theodosius' soul. He slipped the package under his robes, into the secret pouch he'd sewn to hold it. Now there was nothing left to do but allow the vultures to assemble.

He threw open the doors. A dozen people waited in the antechamber.

"The emperor is dead."

"At last," Rufinus said.

He brushed rudely past the white-haired priest and went into the room, followed by the others.

Anastasius waited until they were all inside and then slipped away. Under his robes, the package felt hot against his body.

He was an old man, and a long journey lay before him.

CHAPTER 1

The man in the picture was naked, nailed to the side of a wooden building. A circlet of barbed wire was jammed onto his head. Burns and gouges disfigured his body. He'd probably been dead by the time the birds went for his eyes.

It was a sunny, late autumn day in Virginia, the tail end of an Indian summer. The door to the patio was open and the smell of burning leaves was in the air.

The Project team had gathered in Director Elizabeth Harker's office. Elizabeth sat at her desk, her feet barely touching the floor. Most of the furniture in the world wasn't built for petite people like her. She made up for her size with intensity and intelligence.

She'd dressed in her usual combination of black pantsuit and white blouse. The blouse blended into her milk white skin and set off her emerald green eyes, eyes that could crinkle with laughter or burn holes in someone who had earned her displeasure.

The picture cast a dark shadow across the beauty of the day outside. Selena Connor felt her stomach turn as she looked at the photograph.

She brushed a strand of reddish blonde hair away from her head with a nervous movement. Selena was what some would call a classic beauty. Her eyes were either blue or violet, depending on the light. High cheekbones, a natural beauty mark over her lip and full lips meant her face was memorable. She was someone people looked at twice.

Selena was one of the world's experts in ancient languages. She'd married Nick Carter almost a year before, but still used her maiden name for the times when she needed to call upon her reputation.

She handed the picture to Lamont Cameron, sitting next to her.

"What kind of sick mind would do something like that?"

He looked at it and shook his head.

"The human kind, I guess. The worst part of it."

Lamont was one of the four people who made up the field team, along with Nick Carter, Selena and Ronnie Peete. He'd been a Navy SEAL before Nick and Ronnie recruited him for the Project.

Lamont's face was a striking combination of colors and contrasts. Blue eyes had been handed down by forgotten ancestors in Ethiopia. A pinkish scar stood out on his coffee colored skin, a souvenir of Iraq that ran over his right eye and across his nose. One look told you he'd spent time in places where people had tried hard to kill him. When he smiled, it was the most natural thing in the world. When he was angry, he had the kind of face that frightened children.

Lamont passed the picture to Ronnie Peete.

Ronnie was the do everything member of the team. He could pick a lock or blow up a building with equal ease. Doing it all was part of what was required by a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marines, his former occupation. He was a full blooded Navajo and looked it. It was easy to imagine him mounted bareback on a horse and riding hard at you with a war hammer in his hand.

He looked at the picture.

"That man died hard," he said.

He handed the photograph on to Nick Carter, Selena's husband and the fourth member of the field team. Nick commanded the team in the field. He'd been a major in the Marines before Harker recruited him.

"Who is he?" Nick asked.

He handed the picture back to his boss.

"Vilgot Andersson," Elizabeth said. "The picture was taken in Sweden. He was part of a task force dealing with immigrants coming from the Middle East. Some of them are terrorists pretending to be refugees. Andersson discovered that someone was selling Middle East antiquities stolen from places captured by ISIS, like Palmyra and Nimrud. The Swedes think he was killed because he stumbled onto an ISIS cell, part of a larger network."

"I don't see what it's got to do with us."

"The Swedes are overwhelmed. The connection to ISIS is bad news. They've asked President Rice for help and we're it."

"Don't the Swedes vet these people when they come over the border?"

"It's a sensitive issue. Most of the refugees are Muslims from the Middle East and Africa. They've brought a huge wave of crime and violence into Sweden but the police are undermanned and hamstrung by the socialist government."

"Why doesn't their government do something about it?" Ronnie asked.

"The Swedish Social Democratic Party puts the welfare of the refugees ahead of its own people. Their policies are going to cost them the next election, but for the moment they're still in charge and pushing their agenda. People who complain are attacked in the press as xenophobic and racist."

"Does this mean we're going to Sweden?" Nick asked.

"What the President wants, he gets."

"What are we supposed to do over there?"

"Find out what Andersson knew. Or at least what the Swedes know that he knew. He would have filed reports. See if you can pin down a connection to ISIS. If you find something, follow it up. Use your best judgment, but remember that you're under their command as long as you're in the country.

"I don't see why Rice thinks we're the best people to do it."

"Maybe he just likes us," Lamont said.

"Lamont… " Harker's tone carried a warning note.

"Sorry, Director."

"We have an understanding with Sweden. They keep an eye on Russia for us, we help them out once in a while. Sending you over there is part of the quid pro quo. I'm sending all of you. Just in case you run into something serious."

"The guy in that picture ran into something serious," Ronnie said.

"He had to know something," Nick said. "Why torture him if they only wanted him dead?"

"It could be a message to the local Muslim population," Selena said.

"What do you mean?" Harker asked.

"The symbolism. That man was crucified. ISIS does that."

"So what's the message?" Lamont asked.

"Keep your mouth shut. We can make this happen to you."

"Was Andersson a cop?" Ronnie asked.

Harker tapped her fingers on her desktop. "No. He worked for KSI, the Office of Special Collection. That's more or less Sweden's equivalent of the CIA, though it's a lot smaller. You don't hear much about it in Sweden, or anywhere else."

"Swedish spies?" Ronnie asked. "Seems like everybody's got spies these days."

"KSI specializes in HUMINT, human intelligence. Andersson would have been working informants. You'll have to follow his trail."

"When do we leave?" Nick asked.

"Tomorrow. You're going commercial on SAS. National headquarters for KSI is in a suburb of Stockholm called Solna. I booked your flight. Your contact over there is a Major Otto Forsberg."

"Did you book a hotel for us?" Selena asked.

"No," Harker said, "I thought I'd leave that to you."

"Weapons?" Nick asked.

"The Swedes don't want you bringing them into the country."

"I don't like that."

"There's nothing I can do about it. If there's a problem, let me know and I'll see what I can do."

"I'd feel better if you'd send a package to the embassy, just in case."

"I can do that," Elizabeth said.

"What's the weather like this time of year?" Lamont asked.

"Cold. Be glad Stockholm doesn't get as cold as it does farther north."

CHAPTER 2

It was nighttime when they arrived in Stockholm. Late October in Sweden meant short days and nights growing long. The city was already in winter mode. The temperature outside was a chilly 10° above zero. Snow covered the ground around the airport.

A man wearing a dark overcoat came forward to meet them as they neared customs. He had the face of a man who had seen more than he wanted to. He was around six feet tall, about Nick's height, with the same hard look Nick saw every time he looked in a mirror. It was something that came with years of military service. He was about forty years old, with blonde hair cropped close to his head. He had ice blue eyes that passed over Nick and the others with quick appraisal.

"Nicholas Carter?"

"Yes."

"Otto Forsberg. Welcome to Sweden."

Forsberg's English was good, his accent slight. They shook hands. Nick introduced the others. In Sweden, everyone learned English in school.

"Come with me," Forsberg said. He flashed his ID and took them through customs, bypassing inspection.

"Do you have checked baggage?" he asked.

"No, just what we're carrying."

"Good. I have a car waiting."

As they left the airport and stepped into the Swedish night, the cold hit them with razor sharpness. Selena pulled up the fur-lined hood of a blue parka. The coat set off the blue/violet color of her eyes and her blondish hair. With her high cheekbones and fair skin, most Swedes would take her for a native.

They got into the car, a black Volvo wagon idling by the entrance to the terminal. The heater was blasting. Nick was glad of the warmth inside the car.

"Where are you staying?" Forsberg asked.

Selena gave him the name of the hotel. Forsberg said something to the driver and they pulled away into light traffic.

Forsberg opened a briefcase that had been in the car and took out a folder. He handed it to Nick.

"We will begin tomorrow. In the meantime, I thought you would want to see what we have found out so far."

"Anything new on who killed your man?"

"We're still following up on our inquiries."

"So, nothing new."

"Not yet."

"How do you plan to work us into your investigation?"

"I will be honest. It was not my idea to invite you here. I don't see what you can do that we can't. However, you are here now and my orders are to find a way for you to be useful."

"Sure glad we can be useful," Lamont said.

"It's an awkward situation," Forsberg said. "At this point I'm not sure how you fit in. You bring fresh eyes to our investigation. Perhaps you'll see something we've overlooked. Or you may have an idea that helps us find whoever killed Vilgot. You know what it's like. Intelligence work is a little like being a policeman. There's a lot of looking at bits of information and trying to piece them together into a picture we can understand."

"You knew the dead man?" Selena asked.

"Yes, I knew him. We are a small organization and he was a good friend. This is personal for me. I want the people who did this. If you can help me do that, I will be very grateful."

"We didn't bring our weapons," Nick said. "Speaking of grateful, that's what I'd be if you could issue us pistols."

"You think you will need them?"

"Something like what you have under your coat would probably work."

"Ah, I didn't think that was quite so obvious."

"What are you carrying?" Ronnie asked.

"A 10mm Pist 88, what you would call a Glock 17."

"To answer your question," Nick said, "I don't know if we'll need them but I don't want to find out we do if we run into trouble. Whoever killed your man isn't playing games. If we succeed in finding him, he may be with his buddies. Even if he's not, he's not going to go peacefully."

"I'll see what I can do," Forsberg said, "but it's unlikely to be approved. Not many of us carry guns here."

"Mmm," Nick said.

"Tomorrow we are going to one of the asylum centers for the refugees," Forsberg said. "It's the last place Andersson was seen before he disappeared. I want to question the residents again."

"Residents?"

"It's an apartment block, people from Syria and Iraq. It's not a pleasant place but it's better than living in a plastic tent. The people there are lucky."

"Some kind of luck," Lamont said.

"Do you speak Arabic?" Selena asked.

"No."

"Then I can translate."

"Yes, your ability with languages is in our file. You understand the dialects?"

There's always a file, she thought. Sometimes she wondered if there was any aspect of her life that wasn't in a folder somewhere.

"It depends, but yes. Most of the dialects from the Middle East."

"That's the first good news I've had today. When we interviewed people at the center we had to rely on one of their interpreters. I'm sure he didn't translate everything. Perhaps you will have better results."

The car pulled up at the entrance of the hotel.

"Here you are."

They got out of the car.

"I'll be back at 0800 tomorrow to pick you up." He looked at his watch. "I'd better get going. We're having a special family dinner tonight. It's my grandfather's birthday. He's ninety-two."

"That's fantastic," Nick said.

"He volunteered to fight the Germans during World War II. You would enjoy his stories, I think."

"Wasn't Sweden neutral?"

"Not all of us were."

Forsberg got back in the car. They watched it drive away.

"He seems pretty friendly," Ronnie said.

"Makes a change," Lamont said. "Usually everybody tells us to stay out of the way."

"Sooner or later someone will," Nick said.

CHAPTER 3

Stockholm was built on an archipelago, a series of islands interwoven with lakes and canals. Nick and Selena's room looked out over the waterfront of Lake Mälaren with a good view of the city. City Hall lay in one direction, the Swedish Parliament building and Old Town in the other.

The hotel was a typical upscale European design, with a central living area paneled in light wood that might have been birch or ash. Recessed in one wall was an enormous TV. The bathroom was tiled in gray and black, accented with chrome and multiple mirrors. Large white ceramic bowls set on a stone counter served as wash basins.

The suite looked as though it had come straight from the pages of a high-end architectural magazine. Light blue, translucent cloth curtains hung on a wall of windows looking out over the lake.

The furniture was functional and comfortable, featuring chairs and a couch covered in gray fabric with matching wall-to-wall carpeting and a polished round table. Discrete recessed lighting could be adjusted for a variety of effects.

Nick looked around the room.

"Not bad."

Selena tossed her jacket over the back of a chair. "The Swedes have a real knack for this kind of thing."

"Let's have a drink downstairs and get something to eat. It might be our last chance to relax for a while. Things will start in earnest tomorrow."

"What about Ronnie and Lamont?"

"I'll give them a call. They're just next door."

Fifteen minutes later they were in the lobby bar, sitting in front of a massive rock fireplace blazing with a gas fire. A waitress brought their drinks. Soda for Ronnie, alcohol for everyone else.

Alcohol didn't mix well with Ronnie's Navajo genes. One of the reasons he'd joined the Marines was to get away from the problems on the reservation caused by drinking. Alcohol in any form was illegal on tribal land, but that didn't stop people from getting drunk. Poverty and booze went hand-in-hand on the Rez.

"That fire feels great," he said. "These days the cold gets to me when the weather changes."

"What do you expect?" Lamont said. "You're gettin' old. Hell, I'm surprised you're not already using a walker."

"If anyone around here needs a walker, it's you," Ronnie said.

"I can still out run you any day."

"I don't think so."

Nick broke in. "Let's talk about tomorrow."

"What time's the restaurant open?" Lamont asked. "Are we going to have time for breakfast?"

"There's twenty-four hour room service. Just leave one of those cards out on the door handle with what you want and when you want it. They'll bring it."

"Man, I love staying in places like this. Thanks for booking us in here, Selena."

"You're welcome," she said.

Selena had upgraded them to the best rooms in the hotel, just because she could. She did the same with airplane tickets if they were flying commercial. She'd told Nick it helped make up for the times they had to sleep on a bed of rocks or sand, freeze in mud or snow or fight off scorpions and snakes. An inheritance meant she didn't have to worry about money and she intended to enjoy it. Somehow she'd managed to remain unspoiled in spite of her wealth.

"I still don't see what we're supposed to do here," Lamont said.

"It depends on what Forsberg's team turns up." Nick drained his whiskey and signaled the waiter for another. "You heard what he said. He's hoping Selena catches something they missed when we go to that refugee center. We bring a fresh perspective. Maybe we'll see something they don't."

"Sending all of us means Elizabeth thinks there's going to be trouble," Selena said.

"Sometimes she plays things pretty close to the vest," Nick said, "but she wouldn't hold back anything important."

"It might not have anything to do with her," Ronnie said. "Rice is on his way out but he wouldn't mind helping out his legacy with some success over ISIS before he goes. He's the one that gave her the word."

"We don't know ISIS is involved," Nick said.

"Yeah, but it seems damn likely to me. ISIS has been blowing up statues and defacing sculptures everywhere they go, but they don't destroy the small stuff. They sell it for big bucks to buy weapons. If Andersson found someone doing that, it would've been enough reason to kill him."

"So much for what the Koran says about images," Lamont said. "None of their radical ideology means a damn thing when it comes to making money."

"It's classic." Selena had ordered a martini. She took a sip from her glass and set it down. "Ideology takes second place to money. They excuse it as using the infidel's own works against him."

"ISIS is bad news," Nick said. "You wonder how they can do what they do."

"I don't see how anyone can do what they do," Lamont said.

"That's why you're one of the good guys."

"Radical Islam isn’t rational," Selena said. "It's collective insanity."

Ronnie changed the subject. "You think the Swedes are going to give us guns?".

"I don't know," Nick said. "Let's see if Forsberg can arrange it."

CHAPTER 4

The next morning Forsberg waited until the Volvo pulled away from the hotel to tell them.

"Sorry, no guns," he said. "And if you're thinking about going around that, I wouldn't advise it."

"We wouldn't dream of it," Nick said. "For the record, I think it's a mistake."

"You won't need them," Forsberg said.

"Let's hope you're right."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

The refugee housing was located in a suburb on the outskirts of Stockholm, bordering tracts of farmland. Set back from the street was a long, six-story brick apartment building that took up an entire block. It had been erected before World War II and was showing its age. Graffiti was scrawled across the front in Arabic. Trash littered the barren ground in front of the building. A group of sullen men in jackets and woolen caps stood around a fire built in an oil drum.

"Keep the engine running," Forsberg told the driver. "We shouldn't be long."

The men around the fire gave them hostile looks as they got out of the car. Lamont looked at the building. Someone was watching from a second story window. Someone on the top floor closed a curtain.

"Not a good vibe," Lamont said. "Reminds me of parts of D.C."

"I get a bad feeling about this place," Ronnie said.

"The religious leader here is Abu Sayed Hussein," Forsberg said. "I want to talk to him first. These people listen to him,"

"What did he say when you interviewed him before?"

It was cold. Nick kept his hands in his pockets. His breath formed clouds of steam in the air as they talked.

"He said he didn't know anything. He was hiding something."

"Is everyone here Muslim?"

"Yes."

"Is Hussein Sunni or Shia?" Selena asked.

"Sunni. We found out early on that it's a good idea to keep the two apart. They're housed in separate facilities."

"Isis is Sunni," Nick said.

"Do you want me to translate?" Selena asked.

"It would be better if he didn't know you spoke Arabic. I called earlier and spoke with the man who supervises this place and let him know we were coming. I asked for a translator to be made available. Hussein will have someone with him. I want you to tell me afterward if the translation was accurate. If you think there's something I should ask when we're talking, go ahead and interrupt."

"You expect him to lie?"

"Nothing feels right about this guy," Forsberg said. He turned to Nick and the others. "I'd like the rest of you to stay with the car."

"Why?" Nick asked.

"No offense, but all of you together look a little intimidating. It's hard enough to get these people to talk to us. I don't want them to think we're here to arrest somebody. Everyone is afraid of being sent back where they came from."

"They already know we're here," Nick said. "They've been watching us since we pulled up."

"I know, but we need to be sensitive."

Nick rolled his eyes.

A lanky man with a shock of ash blonde hair came out of the building and walked toward them.

"That's Alf Nilsson," Forsberg said. "He's the supervisor here, but Hussein is really the one in charge. I've known Alf for years."

Nick started to say something but changed his mind.

Nilsson came up to them. "Good morning, Otto. Hussein's expecting you."

"Hello, Alf." The two men shook hands.

"Who have you brought with you?"

Forsberg introduced Nick and the others.

"Americans?" Nelson asked.

"They're here to help." Forsberg didn't elaborate on what kind of help.

"If you say so. Follow me."

The building had three separate entrances. Nilsson led Forsberg and Selena to the one on the far left. The door opened onto a narrow hall. The air was thick with cooking smells and the sour odor of too many people. On the right, a concrete stairway with an iron railing climbed toward the upper floors. Yellow paint on the walls peeled away from cracked concrete showing underneath. A single light bulb lit the hall. Graffiti in Arabic was scrawled everywhere.

"What will happen to the people who live here?" Selena asked Nilsson.

"It depends. Some will be deported. Some of them will go somewhere else. Some will stay here, in Sweden."

Nilsson looked away from her as he spoke.

Doesn't want to talk about it, she thought. I can't blame him.

They walked past several apartments to the end of the hall and knocked on the door.

An older woman wearing a gray covering over her hair and shoulders opened the door. It was hard to tell her age. She seemed worn and angry, the kind of look that comes from years of poverty and hardship.

Her eyes flicked over Selena and she frowned. "He is waiting for you."

"I'll leave you here," Nilsson said.

The woman turned and walked away, not bothering to see if they were behind her. They followed the woman to a large room in the back where windows looked out over a snow-covered field and a half dozen children kicking a soccer ball. A worn Persian rug covered the floor.

Abu Sayed Hussein sat on a cushion placed on a low dais, a round faced man with a sallow complexion, dressed in a black robe and a white turban. One of his eyelids drooped half closed. His dark hair needed cutting and he wore a thick, full beard. A green banner hung on the wall behind him with "God is Great" written on it in white Arabic letters.

A self-appointed mullah, Selena thought. Just what we needed.

A small, rat faced man with a thin beard and beady black eyes sat on Hussein's left. He introduced himself as Gabriel. Hussein gestured at cushions placed in front of him. As Selena and the others sat, he spoke in Arabic.

"Major. If you are here about your unfortunate friend, I have already told you everything I know."

Gabriel translated. His eyes crawled over Selena.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Forsberg said. "We have just a few routine inquiries for you."

"Who have you brought with you?" Gabriel asked.

"She is one of my associates in training. She is here to observe."

Hussein pointed at Selena and said something in Arabic. He looked angry.

"I'm sorry," Selena said, "I don't speak Arabic. Have I done something wrong?"

"You are dressed immodestly," Gabriel said. "Your hair is uncovered."

"Please excuse me. I am still learning."

Selena pulled the hood of her parka over her hair. Hussein grunted approval.

The woman who had answered the door entered the room with a tray and set it down. She knelt and poured glasses of tea from a brass pot. She handed them to Forsberg, Gabriel and Hussein and ignored Selena. She gave Selena a disapproving look and left the room.

Good thing I didn't want any tea, Selena thought.

Forsberg began.

"I wanted to go over what you told us before about Andersson. You said that he visited here only once?"

The translator spoke to Hussein in Arabic. Selena listened.

"This Swedish dog asks again about the man who died. He says you told him the man was here only once. He wants to know if that is so. Tell him whatever he wants to hear so he'll go away."

"Tell him yes, only once," Hussein said. "He is becoming annoying."

"He says yes, only once."

"Well, you see there's a problem about that," Forsberg said. "We recently discovered Andersson's notes. He mentions three visits here, not one."

"That cannot be," Gabriel said. He turned to Hussein.

"He says the man was here three times. I told him that could not be so."

"Tell him that if the man was here, it was without my knowledge. Tell him that he violated my hospitality and his government's rules for such interrogations."

Gabriel repeated what Hussein had said.

Forsberg said, "Whether it was three visits or one, the last place Andersson was seen alive was here. A witness saw him talking with a man outside before he left. He was murdered later that evening. We would like to find this person and speak with him."

"What did this man look like? We have many men here."

"He had a distinctive scar on his cheek. I want to interview the men and find him."

Gabrielle translated. Hussein scowled.

"He is talking about Ahmed. That fool was stupid to be seen. This has gone far enough. Tell him it is not possible for him to interview the men and that in any event, there is no one with such a scar here. Ask him who the witness was. Then tell him that the interview is over."

"Who was this witness?" Gabriel asked.

"I can't tell you that."

"It will not be possible for you to talk with the men. Besides, there is no one with a scar such as you describe living here. The interview is over."

Gabriel stood.

"What about the man with the scar I saw outside? As we came in?" Selena said.

"There is no such man. This interview is over."

Hussein's woman had been listening outside the door. Now she went into the hall and knocked on the door of the next unit. A man answered. The woman said something to him. He nodded and left his apartment, walking quickly to the entrance.

In the interview room, Forsberg and Selena stood. Hussein remained seated, unsmiling. He waved at them with the back of his hand, dismissing them.

"You must leave now," Gabriel said.

"Let's go," Forsberg said to Selena. They left the room.

"He lied," Selena said as they walked down the hall. "He knows the man with the scar. His name is Ahmed."

After they were gone, Hussein turned to Gabriel.

"Send Ahmed to the farm. He can relieve Jamal."

"I told you there would be problems over killing the spy. We should have disposed of his body."

"It was a direct order from al-Baghdadi. He wanted an example made. Would you like to explain your concerns to him?"

"I meant no disrespect."

"The Swede we have been using to distribute the artifacts has forgotten where his good fortune comes from. He is skimming profits by keeping select pieces for himself."

"The Swedes are a corrupt people," Gabriel said.

"Call him. Threaten to end our business relationship unless he does something to divert police attention from us. It will mislead him into thinking he is still trusted, but he has outlived his usefulness. After he has done as you asked, I want you to go to his house and eliminate him. Retrieve anything that might lead back to us."

Gabrielle placed his hand over his heart and bowed.

"As you wish, Abu."

CHAPTER 5

Outside the building, Nick and the others waited beside the car. Nick saw a man come out of the building and walk over to the group by the fire. He began talking loudly and gesturing at the car.

"He seems kind of upset," Lamont said.

Nick scratched his ear. "I don't like the look of that. Where are Selena and Forsberg?"

"There they are, with that other guy, just coming out."

Forsberg, Alf and Selena started toward the car. A dozen men came out of the other two entrances of the building. Some of them held pieces of pipe. Nick caught a glimpse of a knife. They looked angry.

"That's trouble." Nick turned to the driver. He was young and he looked nervous. "Get ready to get out of here."

"We'd better get over there," Ronnie said.

The men from the fire headed toward Selena and Forsberg. The others turned toward Nick, Ronnie and Lamont.

"Sure wish I had my piece," Lamont said.

"Don't wait," Nick said. "Do as much damage as you can. These people will try to hurt us."

"What about Selena?"

"She can take care of herself and Forsberg is armed."

"Copy that," Lamont said.

Nick felt the adrenaline rush just as the first man reached him and swung at him with a pipe. Nick blocked the blow and broke the man's elbow.

"Aaaahhhh!"

The scream echoed across the yard.

All Nick's senses came alive. Time slowed. He was aware of the pipe swinger falling to the ground, grasping at his arm and screaming. He was aware of Ronnie and Lamont wading into the crowd. Training took over, responses drilled into him over years and honed with countless hours of practice.

He felt his blows landing. Someone slashed at him with a knife and cut through his jacket. He kicked the man's knee, forcing it into an impossible angle. The man cried out as he went down. Nick kicked him in the head. The knife flew out of his hand. Somebody jumped on his back. He grabbed an arm and jacket and levered the attacker over his hip and down. The man's head hit the hard ground. He stopped moving.

There was a shot, a sharp crack echoing in the cold air. Somebody yelled out. Nick looked that way and saw Selena. She was all movement, arms and legs a blur. Her attackers went down before her as if she were wielding a scythe. Three men lay on the ground nearby. A fourth went down as he watched.

Then it was over. The men still standing ran back into the building. Nick knew they'd be back in minutes, with reinforcements.

Forsberg was on his knees, holding his side. Blood seeped between his fingers. His pistol lay on the ground beside him. Selena bent down and picked it up.

Alf Nilsson lay on the ground, unconscious, bleeding from a head wound.

Selena came over to Nick. Her face was flushed. There was a long rip in her parka where someone had slashed at her with a knife.

"Are you all right?" she said.

"Yes. I was about to ask you the same thing."

"I'm good."

"Looks like you need a new jacket."

Ronnie and Lamont came up to them. Lamont was rubbing his shoulder.

"That was a hell of a brawl," Lamont said.

"You okay?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. Some asshole got me with a pipe. He's over there taking a nap with his buddies."

Eight or nine of the men who'd attacked them lay on the ground, some motionless, some groaning and moving around.

"We need to get out of here. Forsberg's hurt. Ronnie and Selena, take him to the car. Lamont, we'll get Nilsson. We can't leave him."

"I'm all right," Forsberg said. He staggered to his feet. "They'll come out again."

Nick and Lamont picked Nilsson up and ran with him to the car. They got him into the rear of the wagon as the doors of the refugee house burst open. A horde of angry men poured out, shouting and waving clubs.

"Time to boogie," Ronnie said.

They piled into the car.

"Selena, discourage them," Nick said.

Selena reached through the open window with Forsberg's pistol and fired three rounds into the ground in front of the charging mob. It stopped them long enough to get the Volvo away.

"I'm heading for a hospital," the driver said. The car accelerated. He hit his lights and siren.

Nilsson was still unconscious. Nick pressed Forsberg's hand against the bleeding wound.

"Keep pressure on it. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"You'll be okay."

"Man, those people are crazy," Lamont said.

"It's like that at all over." Forsberg spoke between clenched teeth. "They're out of control. They think it's their right to do what they want."

Selena said, "They come here and are taken care of and then they act like this. I don't understand it."

"They're animals," Forsberg said. "We help them and they hate us. No one knows what to do. These are difficult times for my country."

"For the world," Nick said.

CHAPTER 6

Chief Superintendent Axel Bergstrom sat in his fourth floor office at national police headquarters, put his phone down and chewed on a fingernail. He looked out at Kronensberg Park across the way. In winter the park was a clean, snow filled space, a pleasant piece of the country in the heart of the city. In summer, it was green and lush, a favorite spot to take a lunch break or a walk. Usually Bergstrom found the view soothing. Not today. The call had changed that.

Bergstrom was assigned to the National Task Force, the intelligence and tactical division of the Swedish police responsible for dealing with hostage situations, terrorism and the reality of multiplying threats from every direction.

For years Sweden had been one of the most crime-free and peaceful nations in Europe, but those days were over. Murders were increasing. Drugs were everywhere. The overwhelming influx of refugees and immigrants fleeing the wars in the Middle East had brought with it a host of new problems.

Bergstrom had been a policeman for thirty-five years and would go no farther in his career. He'd had spent his adult life without doing any of the things he'd really wanted to do. When his wife had been alive he'd wanted to travel, but except for one holiday in Spain, they hadn't gone anywhere outside the country. Travel was a luxury he'd never been able to easily afford on his salary.

His retirement ceremony was only a few months away, but his pension wasn't enough to maintain what he considered a decent lifestyle. His position gave him access to everything and anything that touched on criminal activity in Sweden. When he'd discovered that the refugee center in Solna was being used as a distribution center for smuggled antiquities, he'd seen his opportunity.

Bergstrom didn't consider the trade in artifacts a real crime. After all, who was being hurt by it? He'd never understood people who thought tombs and ancient cities were places where everything should be preserved in a museum or left in the dust where it had lain unnoticed for centuries.

Bergstrom only dealt with two buyers in order to minimize his potential exposure. Du Maurier was in France: Mercurio in Italy. Du Maurier would take anything that came from the ancient civilizations of the Middle East. A bás relief, a carved tile, a statue, a piece of pottery, it didn't matter. Mercurio, on the other hand, was only interested in Christian objects. There were fewer of those, but when they turned up he was willing to pay a premium price for them.

It had been a satisfactory arrangement. The artifacts came in with the immigrants and ended up at the center with Sayed Hussein. Bergstrom made sure the police looked in a different direction and arranged for a buyer. The commission was deposited in a bank in Andorra.

He had accumulated a nice nest egg, enough for a comfortable retirement. Most of his flights of fancy centered around someplace warm by the ocean, Ibiza, perhaps, or the Azores. Everything had been going smoothly. Bergstrom could almost feel the sand between his toes.

Then Vilgot Andersson had interfered. That was the trouble with honest cops.

Bergstrom looked down at his thumb, where he'd chewed the nail to the quick.

Things were slipping out of control. First, Andersson's body had been found. Bergstrom had been shocked. There wasn't supposed to be any violence, certainly nothing like that. No one was supposed to get hurt, but they hadn't asked before they killed him and there was nothing he could have done about it, anyway. It was a strong message, meant for Bergstrom as much as anyone else.

The phone call had been from Sayed Hussein's alter ego, Gabriel. Bergstrom didn't like Gabriel but he had to deal with him, since Hussein couldn't speak Swedish or English. Gabriel had told him about the visit from Forsberg and the near riot outside afterward. He'd warned Bergstrom that their arrangement was at risk. He wanted the police to back off.

Bergstrom already knew what had happened at the center. It was the number one topic at police headquarters. What he didn't know was who the people were who had been with Forsberg. They hadn't been in uniform. Gabriel had said he thought the woman might be American.

It had been necessary to spend a few minutes soothing Gabriel. Inside, Bergstrom had been angry. It helped to push away the feeling of panic that was beginning to worm its way into his consciousness. Bergstrom wished he could get rid of Gabriel and Hussein, but it was fantasy. In truth, he was not a brave man. He'd never even fired a gun in anger.

He looked at his watch. In twenty minutes there was a meeting to discuss a response to the morning's events. Someone from the ministry would be there and that always created problems. Whenever the government got involved in police business it was never certain what the result would be. The laissez-faire policy of the Social Democrats toward the immigrants worked to Bergstrom's advantage but an incident like this couldn't be overlooked.

He needed to find out who was working with Forsberg and what was being planned at KSI.

After that he'd decide what to do.

CHAPTER 7

The day after the raid on the asylum the team met again at KSI Headquarters. Forsberg followed them into the conference room and sat down.

"You look pretty good for someone who just got knifed," Nick said.

"It looked worse than it was. He missed everything important. It's sore as hell, though."

"I know the feeling," Ronnie said.

"Let's talk about yesterday." Forsberg looked at Selena. "Tell me what Hussein said that wasn't translated."

"They have nothing but contempt for you. Gabriel called you a dog. Hussein told him to find out what you wanted and then tell you whatever you wanted to hear so you'd go away. He said you were annoying."

"Woof, woof. I'll show him annoying. What else did he say?"

"You asked about the man seen talking with Andersson."

"With the scar."

"Hussein called him Ahmed and said he was a fool for being seen. He told Gabriel to say there was no one there like that. He wanted Gabriel to find out who the witness was that saw Ahmed and after that to tell you the interview was over."

"Ahmed. At least we have a name."

"It's a common name," Selena said.

"Do you have a picture database of the refugees?" Nick asked. "With that scar, it should be easy to pick him out."

"Over a hundred thousand immigrants came here last year and there are more every day. There are many pictures, but most are of poor quality. It will take time. If he's in there, we'll find him."

"What are you going to do about Hussein?" Nick asked.

"Nothing at the moment. He's one of the most important Muslim leaders in Sweden. I don't have any grounds to arrest him. If I take him in, there will be riots. People will get hurt. The government would call it harassment and free him, but not before the damage was done. Until I have proof he's involved in terrorist activity, I can't do anything."

"Then I guess we'd better find some proof," Nick said.

"There's going to be a government inquiry," Forsberg said. "I fired my weapon and I shot one of the men who attacked us. In the current political environment, I'm guilty of an unprovoked, racist attack until proven innocent. After the inquiry I'll probably be suspended."

"That's crazy."

"That's politics. Hussein will claim anything you say to back me up is a lie because you're prejudiced against Islam. He'll say I insulted Mohammed and that's why everyone got upset. There will be a dozen witnesses to swear I fired with no provocation."

Nick said nothing. It all sounded uncomfortably familiar.

Forsberg continued. "It means you'll be asked to leave."

"Hell, we just got here," Lamont said. "I was just settling in."

"They won't kick you out before the inquiry but you'd better be ready to pack."

"Who was the witness that saw Andersson with Ahmed?" Selena asked.

"A truck driver named Torn Dahlberg. He delivers produce to the center. Dahlberg was making a delivery and saw the two of them arguing."

"Did anybody see Andersson after that?"

"No. We have a CCTV recording of him going into his apartment building and coming out two minutes later, in a hurry. He got into his car and drove away. His phone records show that he received a call right before he left. It came from a throwaway, we can't trace it."

"Where did he go?"

"He drove out of town, toward where we found his body. It's all country out there, farmland. Many of the old farms are deserted now. The old people are dying off and the young ones don't want to take up farming. Andersson was nailed to the side of a barn on one of those empty spreads."

"What was he doing out there?" Nick asked.

"We don't know. We think the phone call was to set him up. Whoever called probably killed him."

"Did you find anything at the site to explain why he was there?"

"No. He didn't drive there directly and we haven't found his car yet. Whoever killed him grabbed him and took him out there where he died."

"If we could find the car it might tell us something," Selena said.

"Sure," Forsberg said, "but it could be anywhere."

"What kind of car was it?"

"Vilgot drove a blue Saab, an older model. I used to kid him about it, it was pretty beat up."

"If he drove out of town, that narrows it down some," Nick said.

Forsberg shrugged. "There are lots of places in the country where a car could be hidden. A barn, a shed, lots of places. We don't have the manpower to search everything along that highway."

"Are there houses along the road?" Selena asked. "Maybe someone saw him drive by."

"We thought about that. We asked everybody we could find but nobody recalled seeing him."

"You talked to everyone?"

"Everyone we could find."

"What about the ones you couldn't?"

Forsberg looked annoyed. "Damn it, you're right. I don't think anyone has followed up on that. There were places where no one was home. We made a second pass and still came up with nobody. It got lost in the shuffle. I should have thought of it."

"Don't feel too bad," Nick said. "It's an easy thing to do, a detail like that."

"I should've thought of it," Forsberg said again. "It's something we can do today. Better than sitting around here waiting for somebody to yell at me for shooting that bastard."

Selena looked out the window. The sky was overcast, filling with gray clouds.

"That looks like something's coming in."

"It's supposed to snow later," Forsberg said, "but not until tonight. We'll be back before it hits."

CHAPTER 8

Forsberg drove the Volvo. He had a list of the places where no one had been at home. At the first one, the door was opened by a middle-aged farmer eating a sandwich. He spoke with a thick accent that Selena couldn't understand. Forsberg spoke with him for a few minutes. The door closed.

"He didn't see anything."

"Where is he from?" Selena asked. "I didn't understand what he said except for a few words."

"Up north, near Kruna. It's near the Norwegian border. The dialect is hard to understand for most Swedes, much less a foreigner."

The next farm was a few miles farther down the road. The main house was two stories high, a long single building with whitewashed walls and a pitched roof. Behind it was a smaller, stone building that might've once been a guesthouse. There was a barn. The farm had a forlorn, abandoned feeling to it. Everyone had walked away one day and left it behind.

The day was cold and clear. Fresh snow had fallen the night before. The drive leading in showed no tracks. No vehicles were visible. As they drove up to the house, Selena thought a curtain moved on the second floor.

Forsberg knocked on the door. There was no response. He knocked again, louder. The sound rolled across flat, empty fields marked by stubble sticking out through the snow. The silence was overwhelming.

"Nobody home," Forsberg said.

"I thought I saw a curtain move upstairs," Selena said.

"There are no tracks, no vehicles. Nobody's going to walk all the way out here."

"I could've been mistaken."

She looked again at the window. There was nobody there.

They drove on to the third farm on the list. They found the farmer in his barn, mending harness. He was a man who might've been eighty years old or more, with a face grizzled by hard work and hard weather. His arms were knotted with muscles. A faded naval tattoo graced one of them.

He hadn't seen anything either. No, no blue car. Yes, he was usually here. He'd probably been out in the fields when they'd been here before. If a blue car had gone by, he would've noticed it. He knew all the cars that came this way. There wasn't any reason to go this way except to visit neighbors a mile up the road. The weather was going to act up and they might get a lot of snow.

The man went on for five minutes before Forsberg finally cut him off. He thanked him and they went back to their car.

"I thought he'd never stop talking," Forsberg said. "Some of these old farmers get lonely."

"It seems desolate," Selena said. "I can see how living out here could get you down."

"It looks that way now," Forsberg said, "but in the spring and summer it's beautiful. All this is green. There are flowers everywhere, birds, it's a beautiful place. But winter is bleak."

"What now?" Ronnie asked.

"That was the last stop on the list. We might as well head back to town."

"I want to look at that second place again," Selena said.

"Why?"

"Just a feeling. The more I think about it, the more I'm sure someone was inside the house. Why didn't they answer the door?"

Forsberg looked at her. "A feeling?"

"Better listen to her," Ronnie said. "She's got good intuition."

"Why not? It's on the way."

Nothing had changed when they returned. The only tracks going in and out from the main house were the ones they'd left earlier. The curtain in the upstairs window hung still and lifeless. Forsberg pounded on the door again. There was still no answer.

They walked around the house, peering in windows. There was nothing to see except empty rooms. A back door was locked.

"Let's take a look at the barn," Nick said.

"Technically speaking, I'm supposed to have a warrant," Forsberg said.

"I won't say anything if you don't." Nick started toward the barn.

The building was old, weathered by years of harsh Swedish winters. The boards had long ago given up any paint they might once have had. Two hinged doors were closed with a thick metal hasp and locked with a new, heavy-duty padlock. A square metal plate was bolted onto the wood behind the lock and hasp.

Nick pointed at the lock. "What's a new lock like that doing on a beat up building like this? Everything else around here is falling apart."

Forsberg bent to examine the lock. "Someone wants this to stay closed."

"Makes me wonder what's inside," Ronnie said.

"Why don't we find out?" Lamont said.

The side of the barn was littered with scrap, the kind of junk found on every old farm. Rolls of wire. An ancient tractor. A broken pump. Odd pieces of rusted machinery. Pieces of pipe.

Lamont picked up a length of half inch pipe about two feet long. He went back to the door, thrust the pipe through the loop of the padlock and braced it against the metal plate. He levered down, grunting with the force. The lock, plate and bolts pulled away from the old wood with a screeching sound. It sounded like someone dragging their nails across a blackboard.

Selena covered her ears. "I hate that sound."

Lamont made a claw of his hand and pretended to run it across an invisible surface.

"Eeeeeee."

"Very funny," Selena said.

"Looks like somebody broke in here," Lamont said. "We'd better investigate, just to make sure everything's okay."

Forsberg shook his head, but he was smiling. Ronnie and Nick swung the doors open.

The interior of the barn was cold and uninviting. Dust moats floated in shafts of sunlight coming through holes in the roof. The floor was packed dirt. Three wooden stalls lined one side of the building. Old tools hung on the other wall.

Andersson's blue Saab was parked at the far end.

"Bingo," Ronnie said.

The Volvo started up outside.

"Fuck!" Forsberg yelled.

He pulled his gun and ran to the open doors of the barn. The car fishtailed down the drive as it accelerated. Forsberg took up a two-handed stance and fired. The rear window shattered. He kept firing until the magazine was empty and the slide of his Glock locked open.

The Volvo slowed and veered to the side. It kept going until it went over the edge of an irrigation ditch paralleling the drive, ending up nose down in the ditch, rear wheels spinning. The horn sounded a steady, raucous note.

They walked toward the ditch. Forsberg kept his pistol ready.

"I smell gas," Selena said.

A wisp of pale flame flickered along the side of the car.

"Oh, oh," Ronnie said.

The gas tank exploded. A bright, orange flower burst into bloom against the white snow. They force of the blast knocked them down. One of the car doors spiraled into the air and came crashing down fifty feet away.

A column of dirty black smoke rose into the sky.

Forsberg picked himself up and brushed snow off his clothes. He looked at the burning hulk.

"Damn it, that was my personal car."

"Looks like you were right about somebody being home," Nick said to Selena.

CHAPTER 9

Forsberg called his headquarters, spoke for a few moments and put the phone back in his pocket.

"Forensics is coming. They'll bring a vehicle for us. Until then, we're stuck here."

"I want to take another look around," Nick said. "Why was someone here? He must've been guarding something and it wasn't Andersson's car."

"Whoever it was, he didn't want to get caught." Selena brushed dirt off her jacket sleeve.

"Let's start with the barn," Forsberg said.

The barn revealed nothing except a patch of oil under Andersson's car.

The door of the house was open. Wide spaced footprints in the snow showed where the driver of the Volvo had run from the house to the car. They went inside and began going from room to room, opening cupboards, looking in closets. There was furniture in every room but it was obvious that the house had not been lived in for years. On the second floor they found a sagging bed, a chair, and a dresser with a cracked mirror. The bed had been slept in. There was a Koran on the dresser.

Forsberg held up the book. "Why does this not surprise me?"

The first and second floors gave up nothing else of interest.

"Is there a root cellar?" Selena asked. "Wouldn't there be something like that on one of these old farms?"

"There should be. The entrance is usually off the kitchen," Forsberg said.

"I didn't see one," Ronnie said.

They went back to the kitchen. Ronnie was right. There was no obvious door or entrance to a cellar.

An enormous china cupboard was pushed up against one wall.

"If I were a door, where would I be?" Nick said. "What's behind that big cupboard?"

"Let's find out," Ronnie said.

Selena pointed at the stone floor. "There are old scratches. Someone's moved it before."

Ronnie and Nick moved the cupboard away from the wall. Behind it was a wooden door painted green. Nick pulled it open, took out a pocket flashlight and shone light through the opening. A short flight of wooden steps led into darkness. He climbed down, followed by Lamont.

"Creepy down here," Lamont said.

The floor was dirt, littered with old rat droppings. They had to stoop under a low, beamed ceiling covered with spider webs. Open wooden bins took up much of the confined space. The bins were empty. There was nothing at all to indicate that anyone had been in the cellar for a long time.

Back upstairs, Nick brushed fragments of cobwebs from his jacket.

"There's still that stone building," Ronnie said.

The building wasn't locked. The windows were broken. It was one large room and it was empty.

They went back outside.

"There has to be something here," Nick said.

"Maybe he was squatting," Selena said.

"Sure, but why steal the car? How much trouble could someone get in for sleeping in an abandoned house? It's overkill. I keep thinking about that fancy padlock on the barn. We should take another look."

"We've been in there twice already," Forsberg said.

"Not like we've got something better to do," Lamont said. "We're not going anywhere until someone comes to take us back to town."

The barn looked the same as it had an hour before. Selena wandered over to the stalls. The dirt floors still had old straw on them. She started into the middle stall to look at an old piece of leather tack hung on the weathered boards and stumbled against something. She kicked the straw away, exposing an iron ring in the floor.

"Over here."

The ring was set in a wooden trapdoor. Nick bent down and pulled on it. The door came up easily on oiled hinges.

A wooden ladder dropped straight down into whatever lay below.

He handed Selena his flashlight. "Hold the light for me."

The bottom of the hidden room was ten feet below the stable floor. The room was about twenty feet square but it wasn't old, like the rest of the farm. The boards forming the walls were clean and fresh, the nails holding them together still bright.

"Better come down here," Nick called.

Forsberg came down the ladder, followed by Selena. She played the light around the room. Four long crates stamped with Swedish markings were stacked against a wall. There were boxes at the end of the room.

Nick pointed the light at the nearest crate. "What does that say in Swedish?"

"Shit," Forsberg said.

"It says shit?"

"Those are military markings."

He walked over to the crate. The lid was loose. He lifted it up.

"Assault rifles. AK5Cs. They're issued to the home guard."

"That explains the lock," Nick said, "and why they left someone behind."

"Bring the light over here," Selena said.

She stood at the back of the room, looking down at the contents of an open crate. It was filled with artifacts packed in straw. It was easy to see that the objects were old. Selena picked up a statue of a goddess, about eight inches tall.

"This is Babylonian. It's a statue of Astarte. Probably looted from Iraq."

"ISIS,"Nick said.

"Has to be."

Nick turned to Forsberg. "After finding this, I don't think you have to worry much about what happened at the refugee center."

Selena lifted the top off another crate.

"Wow," she said.

The gold gleamed in the light of her torch. The crate was filled with objects stolen from Christian churches. There was a gold chalice and two gold candlesticks. With the chalice and candlesticks was a silver Orthodox crucifix set with precious stones.

There was a silver box, about a foot long and eight inches across. Words in Latin were scribed on the surface of the lid.

Liber Simon

Selena opened it. Inside were two ancient scrolls of vellum.

If she hadn't opened that box, everything would have been different.

CHAPTER 10

Selena took the box with her when they climbed out of the hidden room. Back in the house, they sat down at a wooden table in the kitchen and waited for Forsberg's people to arrive.

Nick looked at the silver container. "What does the Latin say?"

"It says, 'The Book of Simon.'"

Selena lifted one of the scrolls from the box.

"It's still flexible. I think I can open it."

She laid it on the table. With great care, she unrolled it.

"This is written in biblical Aramaic."

Selena scanned the scroll.

"I don't believe this. If this is real… "

"Well?" Lamont said. "What does it say?"

"It's a description of the crucifixion, written by Simon of Cyrene."

Nick looked at her. "Who was Simon?"

"He's the one who helped Christ carry the cross. If this is authentic, it's an amazing find."

Forsberg said. "I'm surprised those barbarians didn't melt the box down and throw that scroll in the trash."

"They may be barbarians, but their leaders aren't stupid," Nick said. "They need money for weapons. Looted antiquities are a big source of income for them, right after oil. The black market for artifacts is huge. There are plenty of people who don't care how something was obtained. One of those little statues like Selena held up is worth thousands to a collector."

"Your man Andersson must have discovered what they were doing," Ronnie said.

Nick turned to Forsberg. "Everything points back to that refugee center. Are you going to raid it?"

Forsberg sighed. "The government is reluctant to do anything that involves Muslim immigrants. They're afraid of being criticized at the UN."

"I was them, I'd be more afraid of the terrorists," Lamont said. "Whoever hid those guns wasn't planning on hunting reindeer."

"We don't have reindeer down here," Forsberg said.

"Whatever."

"I'll have to go to the Minister with this. I can make a good case for a raid, but I can't do it without permission."

"What if you can't get it?" Nick asked.

Forsberg smiled. "Even a politician can be persuaded to do the right thing once in a while. They'll give it to me. There's an election coming up. Finding and eliminating an ISIS terror cell would look good in the papers. Not everyone in our government is afraid to do what needs to be done."

"I hear vehicles," Selena said.

Forsberg got up. Selena put scroll back in the box and took it with her as they followed him outside. Three cars and a van pulled up. A dark-haired woman wearing a red winter jacket got out of the lead vehicle.

"Wait here," Forsberg said. "I won't be long."

He walked over to the woman and began speaking with her. He pointed at the barn, then at the ditch, where the remains of the Volvo smoldered under a sullen sky.

Nick took out his phone. "I'd better call Harker."

Elizabeth picked up on the second ring.

"About time, Nick. Where are you?"

"Standing in the Swedish countryside looking at a wrecked car. It's been a busy couple of days."

He ran the events of the past forty-eight hours past her.

"The Swedes are going to raid that refugee center. I want us along."

"You think they'll have a problem with that?"

"I can't see them letting us go with them. For one thing, they won't give us weapons. They'll send in their SWAT team."

"Then let them go ahead and do the work," Elizabeth said.

"What if they miss something?"

"They're professional. KSI is small but they have a good reputation."

"Can't you pull some strings and get us on that raid?"

"What's your concern?"

"The government here is way over on the left and afraid of international opinion. The Muslim refugee issue is a mine field. Forsberg says he can get the raid approved but I'm sure that if something sensitive turns up it will be suppressed. ISIS is flooding Europe with stolen artifacts. The immigrant center is one of the distribution points and no one is monitoring them. There could be evidence inside that implicates someone in the Swedish government or identifies an important buyer, someone who's protected. If there is, I want to get a look at it."

"Mmm. It would be a big help if we could identify a buyer."

"That stuff isn't cheap. Whoever is paying for it is rich and that means he's got clout. If the buyer is Swedish, we're never going to hear about it unless we're on the scene."

"I see your point. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll see what I can do."

"Let me speak with her," Selena asked.

"Selena wants to talk to you."

Nick handed Selena the phone. "Elizabeth, we found something with the artifacts."

"Yes?"

"It looks like a lost book from the Bible, or at least part of one. I'd like to translate it before I have to give it to the Swedes. It's an incredible find. The government is sure to conceal it until they've had a chance to study it."

"And you want me to make sure you have the opportunity first?"

"Yes. I could take photographs but it will be more accurate if I have them in my hands. Can you make that happen?"

"That will be easier than getting the four of you on that raid," Elizabeth said. "With your reputation, I don't see why it should be a problem. You'd be doing them a favor."

"Wonderful. Thanks."

She handed the phone back to Nick.

Forsberg had finished speaking with his colleague. He started toward them.

"We're about to head back into town," Nick said. "Anything else, Director?"

"Play nice with the Swedes and keep a low profile."

CHAPTER 11

The raid was on, but Forsberg had been warned in no uncertain terms against creating an international incident. If there was trouble and the government needed a scapegoat, he was going to be it. He'd decided the best way to head off potential problems was with a show of force.

Nick and the others had been allowed on the raid as observers. They still had no weapons. They were not allowed to enter the center until the Swedes had secured the building.

It was three in the morning, dark and cold. The air felt raw and smelled of coming snow. Nick, Selena, Ronnie and Lamont sat in a car parked three blocks away from the center, behind two Plasan sand cats carrying the Swedish SWAT teams. The SWAT vehicles had been designed in Israel and carried eight men each. The Plasan was basically an armored box slapped onto a shortened Ford F-350 platform. It was cheap, rugged and effective.

The cold seeped into the car in spite of the heater. The windows had fogged up with condensation.

"He's going to go in there hard," Ronnie said. "Did you see those guys? They're wired to the eyeballs."

"You would be too," Lamont said, "especially if it was your first time going into action."

"You think it's their first time?"

"Most of them look like they're about eighteen," Lamont said. "They don't have the look. You know what I mean?"

"What look?" Selena asked.

"The look that comes after you've been in shit up to your ears with people trying to kill you. You never noticed it in your mirror? "

"There might not be any real trouble," Nick said. "The Swedes are carrying assault rifles. You'd have to be stupid to go against those with pipes and knives or whatever you can find lying around."

"I don't think the people in that building are the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree," Lamont said.

"There were grenades in one of those cases at the barn," Selena said.

Forsberg had given them a handheld radio. Now it crackled with final comm checks. The two SWAT vehicles would head for the front of the building. A third group was on foot, concealed on the other side of the soccer field behind the center. The plan was for all three units to converge at the same time. Nick and the others had been ordered to stay back until the all clear.

Forsberg's voice came over the radio. "All units, execute."

"Here we go," Lamont said.

The two vehicles moved out in front of them. Nick cursed at the condensation on the windshield and wiped it away, then followed behind. In less than a minute they'd arrived at the refugee center. Men in black tactical gear carrying Heckler and Koch MP5s poured out. They split into three groups and headed for the entrances.

Nick pulled up and parked. They got out of the car.

"Sure wish we had our weapons," Ronnie said.

The doors to the building were locked. Battering rams came out. It took just seconds to smash the locks. There were shouts from inside the building as the men started in.

The sound of a pistol cut through the shouting like a hot knife. There was an answering burst of automatic fire, the unforgettable signature of a three round burst from an AK-47.

"That's torn it," Lamont said.

More gunfire came from the building. Nick heard the familiar sound of the MP5s, the hard bark of a heavy pistol, then two more AKs joining in. Windows shattered in the front of the building. Rounds whistled overhead.

They ducked down behind the car. The sound of an explosion rocked the night air, then another.

"Flash bangs," Lamont said.

There was another, different explosion.

"That was a grenade," Ronnie said. "They've got their hands full in there."

Selena pointed at the end of the building. "Someone's down there."

Three men carrying guns came around the corner and moved in a crouch toward the entrance where Forsberg had gone in. Two of them had pistols. The third cradled an AK. They weren't Swedish.

"I thought the back was covered," Ronnie said.

"Probably came out a side window," Nick said. "If they go in that door, they'll be behind Forsberg's and his team. We have to stop them."

Ronnie nodded in the direction of the building. "They don't know we're here. We can take them."

Nick tugged at the scarred earlobe on his left ear.

"Let's do it. Get their weapons."

The three men were intent on reaching the nearest entrance, twenty feet away. Nick and the others were almost on them when the man carrying the AK saw them coming. He shouted a warning, aimed the rifle at Ronnie and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He'd forgotten the safety.

Selena knocked the gun from his hands and beat him to his knees with a flurry of blows, then kicked him hard under the chin. His head snapped back with a sharp crack as his neck broke. He fell to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.

Nick grabbed the second man's pistol as it came up. He wrapped his hand around the slide, grabbed the forearm with his other hand and pushed the gun and arm in opposite directions. The sudden movement twisted the gun sideways and bent the trigger finger at an impossible angle. It broke. The man screamed in pain. Nick kneed him in the groin and punched him on the back of the neck as he folded over.

The last man fired as Lamont knocked his arm away. The round went wide. Lamont head butted him and kicked him in the head after he was down.

The fight was over.

Three Swedes came out of the building, followed by Forsberg. He looked at the three men lying on the ground and the weapons lying beside them.

"What happened?"

Nick pointed. "Those three were getting ready to go in behind your guys. We stopped them."

"I wasn't going to bring you along. I'm glad I changed my mind. Thanks."

"Sounded like you had a hard time inside."

"They were waiting for us. Someone tipped them off."

He took out a cell phone and dialed, spoke briefly and hung up.

"Ambulances are on the way. Three of my men are down. At least a dozen foreigners."

"Hussein?"

"Dead." Forsberg took off his headgear and wiped away sweat. "This is a real mess."

"What about his buddy, Gabriel?"

"No sign of him."

Selena said, "Why turn this place into a war zone?"

"They're terrorists. They don't need an excuse."

"Maybe. Or there's something they didn't want you to find here."

"Besides the weapons they had? If there is anything, we'll find it. Do you read Arabic?"

"Yes."

"Come inside with me. There's something I want to show you."

"I'm gonna stay out here. I need the air," Lamont said.

"Likewise," Nick said.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

CHAPTER 12

Selena followed Forsberg into the building, past his men herding people out. He led her to set of rooms where bullets had splintered the wooden door frame and punched holes in the wall. To her right, a door opened onto a bedroom. To the left was a small kitchen. Ahead was a sitting area.

"In here," Forsberg said.

The sitting area contained a worn couch, a desk and a chair. Hussein lay on the floor on his back, his robe soaked in blood. His eyes were open. His turban was askew. A pistol lay by his outstretched hand. Papers lay scattered on the floor around him, in front of a fire blazing in a brick fireplace.

"I think he was going to burn those papers," Forsberg said.

Selena picked up a page. "This doesn't look like anything important. It's an invoice from a grocer in Ystad specializing in Arab foods. Where's Ystad?"

"It's a small town all the way down south, at the tip of the country. Warmer, down there."

"Don't they have Arab grocers in Stockholm?"

"Yes, several of them."

"What else is in Ystad?"

"It's a commercial and fishing port. There's ferry service to Poland and Latvia from there. Also Denmark. From Denmark, you can go anywhere in Europe."

She handed him the paper. "Why order from way down there if you can get the same thing nearby? I'll bet that's where they ship the antiquities out of Sweden."

Someone called to Forsberg.

"Let me know if you find anything else," he said. He left the room.

Selena turned her attention back to the papers scattered on the floor. There were several invoices for Arab foodstuffs from the same address, dated over the past year. She didn't find anything else that seemed important and decided to look around the building.

She passed an open door and stepped through into an apartment. No one was there. A framed picture on a side table showed the translator, Gabriel, and a woman wearing a Hijab. They stood in a city square bordered by pockmarked and shattered buildings, signs of heavy fighting. Behind Gabriel was a shop sign with a name written on it in Arabic. The picture had been taken in Mosul.

Iraq, she thought. Gabriel is from Iraq. Hussein probably was as well. Where is Gabriel, I wonder?

She opened a dresser drawer and rummaged through it. She found a cell phone stuffed under children's clothes, where someone had tried to hide it. It was a throwaway. She put it in her pocket. Nick could decide what to do with it. After poking around a while longer, she went back outside.

Several police cars had arrived. With Forsberg's men, the cops moved the occupants of the refugee asylum into groups. They stood shivering in the cold, surrounded by hostile stares. Guns were pointed at them. No one smiled.

Selena took Nick to the side and showed him the phone. "This was in Gabriel's room. Should I give it to Forsberg?"

"Let's find out what's on it first. I'll take it."

She handed him the phone. Nick dialed Virginia. Elizabeth answered.

"What is it Nick?"

"The raid went south. There was a jihadist cell inside the center, armed to the teeth. They opened up on the Swedes."

"Why did they start shooting?"

"That's what everybody wants to know. Forsberg thinks they were tipped off. Selena thinks they were hiding something. That might be, but I think they're mostly just stupid jihadists who thought this was their opportunity to meet Allah. Forsberg and his people are going over the building with a fine tooth comb."

"Will they tell you if they find something we need to know about?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I thought I might improvise a little, just in case they don't. I have something for Stephanie. Can you put her on?"

"Wait one."

Stephanie Willits came online. Steph was a critical cog in the complex machine of Project operations. There wasn't much she couldn't do with a computer or a piece of communications gear. Satellite communications was one of her specialties. She'd helped Nick and the others out of a bad situation in the field more than once.

"What's up, Nick? Elizabeth says you guys ran into serious trouble."

"We did, but it's over now. I have a phone in my hand. I want to send you whatever is on it."

"Give me a minute," Steph said.

Nick waited while she set up the transfer.

"Okay, go ahead."

Nick plugged the cell into his satellite unit, turned on Gabriel's phone and pressed a sequence of keys. Thirty seconds later the file transfer was complete.

Stephanie said, "Got it."

"This phone belonged to one of the jihadists. He’s missing and he may have been second in command. These guys were selling looted artifacts on the black market. If something indicates Swedish involvement, Stockholm will cover it up."

"You want me to look for whatever I can find, right?"

"Yup."

"I'll have to run everything through a translation program, unless the conversations are in English. It will take time."

"Whatever it takes," Nick said. "Thanks, Steph."

Nick broke the connection.

"Let's see what comes out of that." He looked around. "We're done here. I'll tell Forsberg we're leaving."

He went over to where Forsberg stood talking with one of his men.

"Selena found this in Gabriel's room." He handed the phone over.

"What's on it?"

"I don't have any idea," Nick said.

Forsberg pocketed the phone. "We'll take care of it from here."

He looked at Selena. "I've been told to let you keep those scrolls for now, while you translate them."

"Wonderful. It shouldn't take more than a few days."

"You must have some serious pull. Make sure nothing happens to them. Nick, I'll call you at the hotel later."

"Yeah," Nick said.

CHAPTER 13

Back in their room at the hotel, Selena carefully unrolled the scrolls and laid them out on a low coffee table. She photographed them and began working on a translation. Ronnie and Lamont were next door, catching up on sleep.

After a while she looked up and said, "No one has ever seen anything like this. The descriptions of the crucifixion in the Bible show minor variations, but they're all pretty much the same story. This one is similar up to a point, but then it's different."

"How so?"

"Because of what it says about Joseph of Arimathea."

"Who was he?"

"A rich follower of Jesus, one of the ruling council in Jerusalem. He donated his tomb for Christ's burial. Tradition says he purchased a shroud to wrap the body when they took it down from the cross. That's in here, but there's more."

She looked at him, her eyes wide.

"It says Joseph held a cup and caught Christ’s blood as He hung on the cross. You won't find that anywhere in the Bible."

"A cup?"

"There's only one cup like that. The Holy Grail."

"That's a legend. A story made up in the twelfth century. King Arthur, all that."

"That's what most people think. But this scroll changes that. My God, Nick, think about it!"

"What if it isn't authentic? There are plenty of phony relics out there, made up in the Middle Ages to encourage pilgrims. It could be one of those."

"I've seen a lot of documents from the first century. You get a feel for authenticity after a while. It would have to be tested, but I'd be surprised if this is a fake. The box must have been in a church ISIS looted. It's valuable because of the silver but the scrolls are worth far more than the box. I can't imagine what this would bring if it were auctioned off at one of the big houses."

"If it's real."

"Yes. It will create an uproar. It's sure to be attacked as a hoax. People have looked for the Grail for a thousand years. Emperors and kings. Napoleon. Hitler searched all over the world for it. It's part of the Arma Christi."

"What's the Arma Christi?"

"The weapons of Christ, symbolic of how Christ defeated Satan. The Grail is one of them, along with the lance that pierced Christ's side and the nails from the cross."

"The lance is gone. We know it was destroyed."

"Nobody knows that except us. It doesn't matter anyway, when you're talking about the Grail."

"Even if this manuscript proves the Grail was real, nobody knows where it is or if it still exists."

"If this becomes public, people will start searching for it."

She began reading the second scroll.

"Oh, my."

"That doesn't sound good."

"There's a prophecy about the Grail," she said. "Simon repeats the story of the open tomb. Then he says that as he was praying in front of the tomb an angel appeared, dressed in robes of fire."

"Sure," Nick said. "Sometimes I think there must've been something in the water back then. Or maybe magic mushrooms in the soup."

Selena ignored him and began reading from the page.

As I prayed before the tomb, then did an angel of the Lord God appear to me in terrible beauty, wreathed in robes of flame. I fell to the ground in fear, daring not to look upon its face. The voice of the angel was not like the voice of men, but as a sound of thunder inside my head.

And the angel said, fear not: write of the trials of the Teacher and tell of the cup that caught His blood.

And the angel said, look: and before me appeared great cities where buildings of stone rose high as mountains into the heavens and crowds of people walked the streets. Then all vanished and the earth was covered with smoke and fire and the cries of the dying rose into the heavens.

And the angel said: a time will come when evil kings and their servants will rule the earth. Their hearts will be corrupt, filled with greed and darkness. They will speak with lying tongues of brotherly love and God and peace but plot war.

Then the angel said: war will come on wings of fire in the night and all that I had seen would come to pass, unless the cup was kept safe by just men.

And the angel said: that if the cup should come into the hands of the liars and the hypocrites, the final days of man would come to pass. But if the cup was kept safe by just men, then the Lord's judgment would be stayed.

"That's a hell of a prophecy," Nick said. "He's talking about the End of Days, isn't he? The Last Judgment?"

"It would be hard to see it as anything else," Selena said.

"Is that all he wrote?"

"Almost. There's one more short section."

And the angel said: go to Joseph of Arimathea and tell him of the Lord's message, for Joseph is chosen as guardian of the cup, until his time on earth is finished.

"If Joseph was the one chosen, how come the vision didn't appear to him?" Nick asked.

Selena looked at him and shook her head.

"Sometimes I really wonder about you, Nick."

CHAPTER 14

The next day Nick was on the phone again with Elizabeth.

"You found an eyewitness account of the crucifixion by the man who helped Christ carry the cross? Are you kidding me? That's what was in the box?"

"I know it sounds far-fetched. Selena is sure it's authentic. But that's not the best part."

"I can't wait to be surprised."

"The scrolls confirm the existence of the Holy Grail."

There was silence at the other end of the line.

"Are you still there, Director?"

"Did you really say that?"

"There's also a prophecy about the Grail."

Nick repeated what had been written on the scrolls.

"You said Selena thinks it's authentic?"

"That's what she says."

"This is going to cause a lot of trouble," Elizabeth said.

"That's what she said."

"I wonder if ISIS knows about this?"

"I don't think so," Nick said. "If they knew what was in those scrolls they wouldn't have sent them off with the rest of the looted artifacts."

"I have to think about this before I decide anything. What's the public reaction to the raid over there?"

"It's a big deal. There's a protest march being organized. The media is in a feeding frenzy. There are calls for criminal charges against Forsberg and an investigation of the KSI. Hussein is being painted by papers that follow the government line as an innocent victim of racial and religious prejudice. According to them, Forsberg is a trigger-happy fascist."

"And the rest of the media?"

"Demanding that the borders be closed and that the government send everyone back where they came from. Everything is black and white here, there's nothing in between."

"That sounds familiar," Elizabeth said. "What about your role in this? Has anyone got wind that you're involved?"

"Not yet, but it's only a question of time. What do you want us to do?"

"Stephanie found a call on that phone you discovered that went to a man named Bergstrom. She checked him out. He's a Chief Superintendent in the national police, stationed in Stockholm."

"Knowing a high ranking cop could come in handy if you were smuggling things into the country."

"It can't be a coincidence. Bergstrom has to be involved. You have to let the Swedes handle it."

"What if they decide to cover it up? They're certain to handle it internally but they might not want us to know about it."

"I'm not willing to ignore the connection," Elizabeth said. "Bergstrom is probably the man who sets up the exchange with the end buyers. We need to know who they are. He's not the buyer, he couldn't afford it on a cop's salary."

"What do you want me to do?"

"If they tell you what's on the phone, leave it alone. If they don't, I want you to pursue it. You won't have much time. They'll be embarrassed by discovering one of their own is involved. They'll tell you to leave and I won't be able to keep you there."

"I need information on Bergstrom."

"Steph is putting something together now. She'll send it to you in a few minutes."

"We're headed over to KSI in a few minutes," Nick said. "If they're going to come clean, it will be then."

"Good. Then you'll know where you stand. Keep me informed."

Harker broke the connection.

"What did she say?" Lamont asked.

Nick told them what Elizabeth had said about Bergstrom.

"So we're going to follow up on Bergstrom if the Swedes don't keep us in the loop?"

"That's about it. Steph is sending the info we need about him. It all depends on what happens at the meeting this morning."

The islands, lakes and waterways of Stockholm made the city an interesting and beautiful place. It had snowed the night before, but the morning was clear and sunny. The city looked like something out of a modern fairy tale.

Ronnie said, "Snow means water. Where I come from, water is a good thing."

"Sure is pretty out," Lamont said. "Makes me think of a Christmas card."

"It's a beautiful day," Selena said.

The good feeling evaporated inside KSI headquarters. Forsberg was in a bad mood. He was being called a closet Nazi and a fascist by the left-wing papers because of the raid on the refugee asylum.

Politics in Sweden wasn't much different than it was in America. When there was political capital to be made, the gloves came off. Control of the country's government was at stake in the upcoming election and the political rhetoric was heating up. The issue of immigration was tearing Sweden apart. The confrontation with Islamic militants at the asylum had thrown gasoline on a fire already burning out of control.

Forsberg was caught in the middle. Whenever things didn't go well for the politicians, someone had to pay. It wouldn't be them. Unless he was careful, it was going to be him.

"You've seen the papers?" he said.

Nick nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry you have to deal with this."

"It goes with the territory. If I do my job the right way, there's always some officious idiot that wants to criticize. Intelligence work and government oversight is a contrast in terms."

Selena laughed. "At least you broke up Hussein's operation. Have you found anything to connect it to ISIS?"

"Funny you should ask that."

Forsberg reached into his briefcase and pulled out a black flag with Arabic letters on it.

"We found this in his bedroom."

"No question whose flag that is," Nick said. "Those assholes have made sure it shows up on everyone's TV as often as possible."

"Hussein must've thought he was invulnerable to keep that around," Selena said.

"For all practical purposes, he was," Forsberg said. "The hands-off policy regarding Muslim immigrants has been in place for quite some time. Sweden has always been one of the most welcoming societies in the world. No one thought allowing refugees from war zones to enter would lead to this kind of chaos."

"What was Hussein planning to do with those weapons?" Nick asked.

"Attack polling stations throughout the country during the next election. We're still sorting through information recovered from the center."

"Was there anything on that phone I gave you?" Nick said. His voice was casual.

"No." Forsberg looked away. "Most of the calls were to a pizza parlor. There wasn't anything about what they were planning or about the smuggling operation."

"That's too bad. We were hoping to get a line on the buyers."

"We'll find out sooner or later," Forsberg said. "When we do, we'll let you know. In the meantime, I've been asked to convey the thanks of our government for your assistance. We'll forward everything we discover about ISIS to you when you're back in America."

"You're sending us home?"

"There's nothing left for you to do here, not in an official capacity. Why don't you take a day or two to enjoy Stockholm? I can recommend some excellent restaurants. Shopping is good, the museums are fascinating."

Selena said, "That sounds like a good idea." She turned to Nick. "Don't you think so?"

"Can you make us a list of those restaurants?" Nick said.

As they drove back to their hotel Lamont said, "They're kicking us out and that boy was lying in his teeth. I thought he was a straight shooter."

"It's not his fault," Nick said. "I got the feeling he wanted to tell us what was going on. Someone told him to keep quiet. The last thing he wants to do is make waves right now. The papers are looking for a sacrificial lamb and he'd be a good one. His only chance is to play by the rules."

"Just the same," Lamont said, "I'm kinda disappointed."

CHAPTER 15

Bergstrom was thinking about his dead wife. He poured ice cold vodka into a tumbler and downed it. If Emma were here, she would have helped him figure out what to do. If she were here, he'd never have gotten into this mess in the first place. He'd always talked about everything with her. She would have stopped him from becoming involved with those people. But she hadn't been there to help him think it through. Emma had died of cancer seven years before. The pain of her death was still with him.

Bergstrom could feel the doors closing. It was time to run.

He had a passport in a different name and enough cash in the safe for a ticket to somewhere far away. His credit cards were good but he wouldn't be able to use those once he left the country. Besides, he wouldn't need them. There was plenty of cash in the accounts in Andorra, more than enough to live comfortably someplace where extradition was difficult. Someplace warm, where a foreigner would be welcome as long as he had enough money to keep the natives happy.

Why did it have to turn out this way? Why did they have to kill Andersson? And then they had to show off, crucify him. They couldn't just dispose of the body. Fucking animals.

He poured another drink. He thought he heard a brief noise, then quickly forgot it.

I'll book a ticket for France with one of the cards. That will throw them off the trail for a little. Then, a quick change to a different look in the airport men's room, something simple. A different airline to South America. By the time they figure it out I'll be far away…

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Bergstrom got up, went to the door and looked through the spy hole. A dark-haired man stood there, someone he had never seen before.

"Who is it?"

"My name is Antonio Bellini, Signor Bergstrom. Count Mercurio sent me to speak with you. Please, may I come in?"

Bergstrom opened the door.

"Unless he's prepared to make a new offer, you have wasted your trip. But come in, it's cold out."

Bellini entered the room and stamped his feet.

"The count has asked me to see if we can work something out. He is prepared to offer more money."

"Come into the living room," Bergstrom said. "We'll talk. Can I get you a drink? Vodka?"

"Brandy, if you have it."

Bellini followed Bergstrom into the other room. The Swede took a bottle of brandy and a glass from a sideboard and poured a drink for his unexpected visitor. He gestured at an empty chair and sat down.

"You still have the tile?" Bellini asked.

"I do."

"The Count is prepared to double his offer."

Bergstrom shook his head. "I'm afraid you have wasted your time after all. The price is not negotiable."

"Please reconsider, Signor Bergstrom. Allow me to point out the advantages to you."

Bellini was about to begin when a man stepped into the room with a pistol in his hand.

CHAPTER 16

Nick and the others parked down the block from Bergstrom’s house, a single-story home set back from the street in an older residential area. The porch light was out. There were no lights in the windows.

"What do you think?" Nick asked.

"Doesn't look like he's home," Lamont said.

"Maybe he went to bed," Selena said.

Nick looked at his watch. "Pretty early for bed."

They got out of the car and hurried to the porch. Nick tried the handle on the door. It was locked.

"Do your thing, Ronnie."

Ronnie reached for his lock picks and bent over the lock. In seconds the door was open. They slipped inside and shut the door behind them.

They were in an entry hall. Everything was dark. Flashlights clicked on.

"What's that smell?" Selena said. "Like the toilet overflowed."

"Something's wrong here," Nick said.

He reached for his pistol, a move born of long practice. The gun that should have been there was back in Virginia.

They followed the smell to the first room off the hall. Bergstrom lay sprawled on the floor by an overturned chair. A second man lay back in a chair, his mouth open. Dead eyes stared at the ceiling. The stench of blood and feces was overwhelming.

"Whew," Lamont said.

Nick's foot knocked against a vodka bottle on the floor. It rolled away toward the wall.

Ronnie shone his light on the bodies.

"Shot. Two or three times each. Someone wanted to make sure."

Nick scratched his ear. "One of these guys must be Bergstrom."

Lamont bent down over the man on the floor and extracted a wallet.

"This one is Bergstrom."

"Okay. Keep going through their pockets and see what you can find. We'll search the house. Pull the drapes over the windows and turn on a light. Anyone sees, they won’t think anything of it."

"What are we looking for?" Ronnie asked.

"Something to give us an idea of who wanted Bergstrom dead. Anything about those artifacts or a connection to Hussein. Ten minutes, then we're gone."

They started through the house. Nick went into the kitchen. Ronnie took a bedroom. Selena went into what looked like a study. The drapes were closed. There was a desk near the wall and a large closet with louvered doors. Some of the drawers were open, others closed. Papers were scattered on the floor. It looked as if someone had been searching for something and been interrupted.

Selena felt the hair move on the back of her neck.

There's someone here!

The closet doors flew open and a dark shape lunged at her.

She didn't have time to think, but the instant of recognition that she was not alone triggered an adrenaline rush. Years of martial arts training kicked in. The attacker barreled into her.

She met the rush with a half turn and grabbed the front of his coat, pulling him past and leaning into him with her hip. Momentum sent him flying across the room. She went for him, aiming a kick at his head. He was fast, and the kick barely grazed his face. He rolled and came up on his feet with a pistol in his hand and fired.

Selena felt the round burn across her hip. She kicked the gun from his hand and kicked him again in the groin, as hard as she could. He grunted and doubled over. She spun and aimed another kick at his head. This time she didn't miss. He went down like a rock and stopped moving.

Nick ran into the room, looking charged. Ronnie and Lamont were in the hall behind him.

"What happened?" He shone his light down at the man on the floor.

"He was hiding in the closet," Selena said. "I recognize him. His name's Gabriel. He was the translator for Hussein at the refugee center."

"Forsberg is going to love this." Nick looked at Selena. "You're bleeding."

Selena looked down. The bullet had ripped through her jeans along the side of her hip. Blood stained the dark cloth. She started to come down from the adrenaline rush and the wound began throbbing.

"It's only a scratch." She fingered the tear. "Damn. I just bought these before we left."

Nick bent down and laid his fingers against Gabriel's throat. His breathing was harsh, ragged.

"He's still alive, but you put a big dent in the side of his skull."

Ronnie left the room. After a minute he came back with tape and gauze and handed them to Selena.

"Found these in the bathroom."

"Thanks."

"Need help bandaging that up?" Nick asked.

"No, I can do it. It's not serious."

"Ronnie, Lamont, keep checking the rest of the house. I'll start here."

They left the room. Selena unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down. The bullet had just missed her hip. Two inches lower and she would have been on her way to a hospital with a smashed pelvis and a traumatic wound. As it was, it had dug a bloody groove in her side. She'd be left with another scar for her growing collection. While she improvised a bandage, Nick looked in the closet where the attacker had been hiding.

"There's a safe in here."

He called Ronnie back into the room.

Nick showed him the safe. It was a newer model, about three feet high and two wide.

"It's got a biometric lock," Ronnie said. "Let's get Bergstrom to give us a hand. He won't mind."

They went back to the living room and dragged Bergstrom's body down the hall and over to the closet. Nick took the dead man's hand and tried fingers over the scanner until the tumblers unlocked with a quiet sound.

There were two passports on the top shelf. One was Swedish, in Bergstrom's name. One was German. It had Bergstrom's picture but was in a different name. There was a thick packet of Swedish kroner, next to a Walther P-38. Nick held up the gun.

"You don't see these much, anymore."

"Good pistol. Not his service weapon," Ronnie said.

Lamont came into the room.

"Nothing I could see in the rest of the house," he said.

Selena had finished with the improvised bandage. She looked over Nick's shoulder where he knelt in front of the safe.

Selena pointed at an object in the corner of the safe. "What's that?"

Nick took out a ceramic tile about a foot long. Brilliantly colored pieces of stone formed the image of a man in a long, black robe with a full beard against a white background. He wore a square black cap. In his right hand, he held a wine cup. Three rays of light came out of it. His left hand was at his side, the index finger pointed down at the ground. A set of keys hung from a rope tied around his waist.

Below the figure were two lines written in Latin.

Anastaisu confessoris ad imperatorem Theodosium

Solus justus et inveniam Illum

"Looks old," Lamont said. "Must be something Hussein smuggled in."

Nick stood and handed the tile to Selena.

"The style of mosaic looks typical for something done in the fourth or fifth century," she said.

"What does the Latin say?"

"The first line says, 'Anastasius, confessor to the Emperor Theodosius.'"

"And the second line?" Nick asked.

"That says, 'Only a just man shall find him.'"

"Find who?"

"It was probably an injunction to seek Christ." Then she said, "Oh."

"Oh?" Nick said. "Why, oh?"

"Look at the rays of light coming out of the cup. The priest is carrying the Holy Grail."

"The Grail again?"

"It can't be a coincidence, when you combine it with those scrolls. This could be a clue to what happened to the Grail. That would make it worth killing for."

Ronnie said, "ISIS must have found out about the box with the scrolls and now they're looking for it. That would explain who killed these guys."

"How would they find out?" Lamont asked.

"Someone had to tell them," Nick said. "The only people who know about the scrolls except us are Swedish. There must be another bad cop in the mix somewhere. Or someone in the government."

"Forsberg?"

"I don't think so, but I don't know. We'll keep our suspicions to ourselves for now."

Nick took a handful of papers from the safe and handed them to her.

"What do these say?"

She looked through them.

"There's a will and a property deed. Also a marriage certificate from twenty years ago. A birth certificate for a daughter, and a death certificate in the same name, dated four years later."

"What else?"

"A copy of a newspaper article about Bergstrom's wife. She was a well-known artist. Died eight years ago."

"Guy didn't have a happy life," Lamont said.

"Here's something. These are statements from a bank in Andorra." She looked at one of them. "Being a policeman must pay pretty well in Sweden."

"How much does he have?" Nick asked.

"Three hundred thousand in British pounds. This one is dated two months ago."

Lamont whistled. "Guess the antiques business is pretty good."

"Those will help," Nick said. "The money had to come from somewhere. We can follow it back. With luck, we'll ID the buyer."

He laid the bank statements out on the desk.

"Ronnie, get pictures of these. I'll send them to Stephanie and see what she turns up. Get some shots of the tile, too. We have to turn everything over to the Swedes but I don't trust them to keep us in the loop after we leave. I want a record. "

"Let them have the statements but keep the tile," Selena said.

"Why keep it?"

"It might be better if they didn't know about it."

"That your intuition speaking?"

"You just said there must be another corrupt cop or official. What if he's working with ISIS?"

"It's an idea, but I want to play it straight," Nick said. "It's evidence. They'll lock it up."

"I hope you're right," Selena said.

"If I'm not, you can say I told you so."

"I'll get some shots of the guy in the other room while I'm at it. Maybe he's in the database," Ronnie said.

Lamont said, "I found his passport when I went through his pockets. He's Italian. His name is Antonio Bellini. He had a return ticket to Milan, plenty of Italian lira in his wallet and a driver's license in the same name. He's got a fancy gold ring and a Rolex watch. What are we going to do about him?"

Nick took out his phone. "He's Forsberg's problem."

Forsberg and his team arrived twenty minutes later. Gabriel was still breathing. An ambulance carted him away. Forsberg looked down at Bergstrom's body and sighed.

"A foolish man," he said. "He was never the same after his wife died."

He turned toward Nick. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to spend time enjoying our city. Instead I find you in the home of a murdered officer. Give me a good reason not to arrest you."

Nick was annoyed. "Give me a break. You haven't been playing straight with us. That phone Selena found at the refugee center had a call to Bergstrom on it. You should've told us about it. This was supposed to be a joint operation, remember? We gave you the chance to come clean and you didn't, so we decided to follow up."

"You accessed that phone? It was encrypted."

"It's what we do," Nick said. "Our expertise is why you invited us here in the first place."

"You didn't trust me to tell you?"

"I was right, wasn't I? Look, I understand that everything about this operation is sensitive as hell. One of your ranking police officers was involved in helping ISIS fund their terror campaign. The media will tear you apart if it gets out. There are plenty of reasons your superiors would tell you to keep it away from us."

Forsberg looked embarrassed. "For what it's worth, I was ordered to withhold the information. I argued against it. I thought it was a mistake."

"I'll take that as an apology."

"Bergstrom's partners must have decided he'd become a liability."

"That's what we think. We were wondering if anyone else was involved."

Forsberg sighed again. "If there is, we'll find them. Perhaps the man in the other room was part of it. I'll run him through Interpol."

"We're going back home tomorrow," Nick said. "Will you keep us informed as things develop?"

"I'll make it a personal priority."

On the way back to the hotel Ronnie said, "Do you think he'll keep his word?"

"He strikes me as honest," Nick said, "but it's out of his control. I'm not going to hold my breath waiting to hear from him."

Lamont looked out the window at the snow piled on the side of the road. "I'm getting sick of all this snow. When are we leaving?"

"We'll book a flight out tomorrow," Nick said.

CHAPTER 17

Count Alessandro Mercurio knelt in his private chapel and prayed for the soul of Antonio Bellini, dead in Sweden. The cold stones of the floor bit into his aged knees, sending shocks of pain through his body. He was grateful for the pain, a small redemption for Antonio's death.

Mercurio was Commandante of the Compagnia del Santo Graal, the Society of the Holy Grail. The society marched in parades and carried banners during religious holidays, performed good works and contributed to the Church. For most of its members, it was little more than a social club. For Mercurio, it provided the central purpose of his life.

The society had been founded in the fifteenth century by a wealthy merchant named Rossini. An angel had appeared to Rossini in a vision, telling him that finding the Grail would fulfill God's plan for humanity. Rossini had spent his fortune and the rest of his life searching. He'd ended in a pauper's grave without finding the elusive cup.

Mercurio raised his head and gazed at a renaissance painting hanging on the wall behind the altar. It was by a student of Caravaggio and depicted the crucifixion. A man dressed in the colorful robes of a rich merchant knelt at the base of the cross, looking up with an expression of terrible sorrow. In his hands he held a cup to catch the blood flowing from Christ's wounds.

Joseph of Arimathea, holding the Holy Grail.

Mercurio had begun looking for the Grail because a voice told him to. The first time he'd heard the voice was during a month-long retreat of silence and fasting. He'd been praying in his small cell when a great warmth flooded over him and the whisper began. There'd never been a doubt in his mind that God was speaking to him. When he emerged back into the outer world, his purpose in life had become clear.

That had been more than forty years ago. Like others before him, Mercurio's search had been fruitless until a few pages of a fourth century manuscript had come into his hands. It claimed the Grail had been in the possession of Theodosius I, the last emperor to rule an undivided Roman Empire.

Mercurio was a powerful and wealthy man with many connections, some less than legitimate. He'd let it be known he'd buy artifacts from the time of Theodosius. An acquaintance from the criminal underworld of Milan had put him in touch with Bergstrom.

When Bergstrom sent the picture of the Anastasius tile, Mercurio's heart had begun pounding in his chest.

What made the tile special was not just the depiction of the Grail. There were many of those, although not from that time period. What made it special was that it identified Anastasius as the confessor of Theodosius. That tied in with the manuscript claiming the emperor had possession of the cup. The confessor of the emperor would have been present at his death, when all trace of the Grail had vanished.

The tile was a clue.

Bergstrom had demanded an exorbitant price and threatened to sell the artifact elsewhere. Antonio Bellini was a fellow companion in the society. Mercurio had sent him to Sweden in the hope he could persuade Bergstrom to see reason. At the time, it had seemed a good decision.

Now Bellini was dead, and it was on his soul. It was why he knelt on the hard stone of the chapel floor, praying for forgiveness. Mercurio was a devout man. He thought of himself and Antonio as soldiers in a war against Satan. Soldiers died in wars, but that didn't make him feel any better.

He got up with difficulty, his aging joints protesting, and made his way from the chapel to the library on the other side of the villa. He rang for a servant and told him to bring a café Romano.

Mercurio stood at the glass doors of his library, looking out at the garden of his villa. The glass reflected the image of a distinguished looking man. Tall, erect, somewhere in his 70s, Mercurio had a long, narrow nose that went with his aristocratic features. His hair was a perfect silver. His brown eyes were so dark they were almost black. He wore a dark blue suit of silk made for him by the best tailor in Rome. The third finger of his left hand bore a large, gold signet ring with words in Latin circling a cross and a cup, the sign of the society.

The garden enclosure was bordered by a high brick wall lined on top with sharp shards of colored glass. It was cold in the hills outside of Milan, where the villa was located. Winter was fast approaching and the garden had turned mostly brown. At the moment, it was bathed in the luminous light unique to Italy and beloved by Renaissance painters. A winding path of white gravel led to a fountain at the far corner of the garden, where water poured into cascading basins during the summer months. For now, the fountain was dry. A stone bench nearby provided a place for quiet contemplation.

The servant brought the coffee and left the room. With practiced motion, Mercurio twisted a piece of lemon peel to spray oil over the coffee. He sipped. The bitter taste of the espresso and pungent smell of lemon stimulated his senses. He turned from the window and picked up a picture of the tile from his desk. He hadn't known about Anastasius until he'd read the manuscript. Now he had an image of him, holding the Grail.

God has shown me the way. He revealed the tile to guide me in the quest.

He would follow in the footsteps of Anastasius.

CHAPTER 18

Lamont looked out through Elizabeth's office windows at a foot of new snow covering the grounds.

"Sometimes I wonder why I ever left Georgia," he said.

"They have snow in Georgia," Ronnie said.

"Not like this, not often."

"They're predicting a bad winter on the East Coast," Stephanie said.

"What else is new?"

Steph sat in a chair beside Elizabeth's desk, leaning back to take some pressure off her swollen belly. She didn't look comfortable. Her complexion was marred with red blotches.

"You look like you're getting ready to pop," Ronnie said.

"Can't be too soon for me. The baby has been kicking the heck out of me lately."

"When are you due?"

"The last week in November, but we might've gotten the dates wrong. It feels like it will be sooner."

Elizabeth tapped her pen on her desk. "All right. Let's talk about Sweden. Nick, there have been developments since you got back."

"That doesn't surprise me." Nick shifted his position on the couch to get more comfortable. "I don't think Bergstrom was the only Swede involved in that smuggling operation."

"You may be right. Gabriel is dead."

"Selena packs a mean kick."

"That's not what killed him. Someone gave him a shot of potassium cyanide."

"That'll do it," Lamont said.

"That's not all. The mosaic tile you found in Bergstrom's house has gone missing. It was supposed to be in the police evidence locker, but it's gone."

"I told you so," Selena said to Nick.

Elizabeth looked at the two of them. "You thought something like this might happen?"

Selena nodded. "I wanted to keep the tile but Nick overruled me. I thought it might help explain why Bergstrom was killed."

"It might have been to stop him from talking about the smuggling operation," Stephanie said.

Nick nodded. "That's possible."

"What about the other guy, the Italian?" Ronnie asked. "Anything on him?"

"There's nothing in the criminal database about him," Steph said. "I'm working on it."

"The Swedish police matched the bullets that killed Bergstrom and the Italian to Gabriel's pistol," Elizabeth said.

"I'm wondering about Gabriel," Nick said. "He had time to leave but he was still there."

Selena said, "Maybe he was looking for that tile."

Nick nodded. "Now that it's gone missing, you could be right."

Elizabeth said, "A clue to finding the Grail would be enough motive to murder Bergstrom."

"You believe the Grail's real?" Lamont asked. "I think it's a myth."

"A lot of myths have a basis in fact," Selena said. "We know Christ ate and drank with the disciples before the Romans took Him. Even if most of what we know about the Grail is a myth, He would've used a plain cup to drink from, just like the one on the tile."

"It's a Swedish problem now," Nick said. "It doesn't concern us any longer."

"I'm afraid it does," Elizabeth said. "Think about it. What would happen if ISIS found the Grail? What about that prophecy in the scroll? Half the world is ready to explode and the Grail could light the fuse."

"You think finding the Grail would start a new holy war?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to find out the hard way. Steph, I want you to look for anything you can find about the priest on the tile, Anastasius. What happened to him after Theodosius died? Where did he go? There must be something about him."

"There are some collections of early Christian documents I can search through," Stephanie said. "If Anastasius was confessor to Theodosius, he might be mentioned."

"I've been thinking about that gold ring," Selena said. "Bellini was wearing a large gold signet ring. It was unusual."

"I noticed that. It's in one of the pictures Ronnie took," Stephanie said.

"It was quite large, round, with a sword and a cup. The cup could be a representation of the Grail. There was a Latin inscription on it."

"What did it say?"

"I don't know, I got distracted by everything that was happening."

"It must be religious," Elizabeth said. "Steph, find out what you can about it. It will tell us more about Bellini. I want to know why he was there."

"Got it."

"In the meantime, the rest of you get some range time in. I don't want you getting rusty."

"We going somewhere anytime soon?" Lamont asked.

"You never know," Elizabeth said.

CHAPTER 19

It snowed overnight. The next morning found the ground covered with six inches of new snow. A few paw prints outside the patio doors of Elizabeth's office showed where Burps had ventured out for a few seconds before deciding he wanted nothing to do with it. Now the cat was curled up in a corner of the couch, sound asleep. Snoring.

Elizabeth sat at her desk drinking coffee. The morning briefing wasn't due to start for another hour and she was already on her third cup. Stephanie came in and poured herself a cup. She sat down next to the cat and breathed a sigh of relief.

"It always feels good to get off my feet." She sipped at her coffee. "How was dinner with Clarence last night?"

"Good. We went to that Thai restaurant over by Dupont Circle."

"How are things going with him?"

Clarence Hood was Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. He and Elizabeth had been seeing each other. Stephanie thought something more than a casual relationship was developing between them.

"He's a wonderful man," Elizabeth said. "He's intelligent and charming, with a bit of that old South courtliness about him. He sends me flowers and little notes. It's something you'd hardly expect from someone in his position."

"Have you slept with him yet?"

"Steph!"

Elizabeth's milk white skin flushed pink.

"You have! I knew it."

"Only once. I'm not sure where it's going."

"It's wonderful. You deserve to have someone in your life."

"It's fun to be with him. I never thought I'd meet anyone again that I could get close to. I find myself holding back sometimes, out of habit."

"You should go for it," Stephanie said.

Elizabeth changed the subject.

"Let's talk about that tile. What have you found out so far?"

"I did a massive search for any records of a priest named Anastasius during the fourth century. I came across only one reference, on a document listing monks at Sumela Monastery."

"Where's that?"

"In Turkey. It was founded by Theodosius in 386 CE and that's one of the reasons I'm pretty sure it's the same man as the one on the tile. It makes sense he'd go to the monastery to get away from the turmoil surrounding the emperor's death."

"That's good work, Steph."

"There's no record of him after that, or what happened to him."

"We may need to go to Sumela to find out," Elizabeth said, "but Turkey is becoming a difficult place for us to operate."

"It may not be worth the trouble. The monastery was abandoned in 1923 when Christians were being persecuted by the Turkish government. There were forced population exchanges between Greece and Turkey, a lot of confusion and deaths. The monks had to leave and they weren't allowed to take anything with them. Sumela Monastery was famous for an icon of the Virgin that was supposed to perform miracles. They buried it under the floor of the chapel to hide it from the Turks."

"What happened to it?"

"A monk retrieved it ten years later, along with other things they'd hidden. They took everything to a monastery in Greece, in Macedonia."

"An icon that performed miracles."

"Well documented," Steph said. "The history of the monastery is filled with miraculous events, especially after Anastasius arrived there."

"Are you suggesting the Grail was responsible for miracles happening at that monastery?"

Steph shrugged. "Who knows? It doesn't really matter to someone who's healed."

"I didn't know you were a religious person, Steph."

"I wouldn't call myself religious, but I had a lot of time to think when I was in the hospital after those bastards shot up our car. It's nothing short of a miracle that Lucas and I are alive. I don't see any harm in thinking a higher power might have had something to do with it."

"The only problem with believing in a higher power is when you think it gives you the right to murder and torture in the name of God."

"What if the legends about the Grail are true? If was at the monastery that could explain the miraculous healings."

"Whether the legends are true or not, if Anastasius took the cup to Sumela and it still exists, the monks would have protected it. They might have hidden it with the icon. If they did, they would have taken it back to Greece."

"That's what I was thinking," Steph said.

"We know Hussein was ISIS. If you tracked down Anastasius, they can as well. By now they must know about the Grail. They'll send someone to Greece. That might not turn out well for the monks there."

"There aren't any monks there, even though it's called a monastery. It's only a church. Tourists and pilgrims go there to view the icon and pray. If the Grail is there, there's no sign of it."

Elizabeth looked at the row of clocks on the wall opposite her desk. It was twenty after seven in the morning, Virginia time.

"Everyone will be here soon. Can you find me some pictures of that monastery or church or whatever it is before they get here? Information on the area?"

"I thought you might want that," Steph said. "It's ready to put up on the monitor whenever you want it."

"What about that ring Selena described?"

"Now that's interesting. It's a ring worn only by members of a religious society in Italy."

"A religious society?"

"The Companions of the Holy Grail. It's been around since the Renaissance."

"The Grail again," Elizabeth said. "First the scrolls, then the tile and then a dead man with a ring, all with the Grail in common. It can't be a coincidence."

"The society seems to be pretty typical," Steph said. "A bit like a Rotary club and religious fraternity combined. They support charities, raise money for the church and get dressed up in fancy costumes a few times a year to march in parades."

"Anything else about them? Something that stands out?"

"Nothing in particular. The commander of the society is an old line Italian aristocrat named Mercurio who lives near Milan. He's an actual count. He's also rich."

"Where's the money come from?"

"Oil."

"Oil? I didn't know they had oil wells in Italy."

"Not that kind of oil. Mercurio's business processes most of the olive oil in the country."

Her computer signaled an encrypted transmission. Elizabeth opened the file. It was from Forsberg at KSI.

After she read it, Elizabeth said, "Talk about perfect timing. This is about Mercurio. He was negotiating with Bergstrom for the tile. The Swedish police found correspondence between them."

"We should talk with him."

"We will, but I want to check out the Greek connection first."

CHAPTER 20

Nick and Selena were first to arrive and Ronnie and Lamont came in soon after. Once everyone was settled, Stephanie put up a picture of a large, Greek church on the monitor.

"This is the Monastery of Panagia Soumela," Elizabeth said. "It's possible that the Grail was taken here. It's a monastery in name only, there aren't any monks or nuns."

"That building looks new," Nick said. "Why would the Grail be hidden there?"

"Steph traced the priest on the tile to a monastery in Turkey." She explained how a Turkish monastery had ended up in the mountains of Greece. "The church is famous for a miraculous icon that's supposed to have been painted by Saint Luke the Evangelist."

"How can it be a monastery if there aren't any monks?" Lamont asked.

"They wanted to keep the association with the original monastery in Turkey, like provenance for a rare painting. It helps everyone know the icon is authentic."

"Are you sending us there?" Nick asked.

"Yes."

"To look for the Grail?"

"Yes, but that's not the only reason."

"I never thought I'd be following in King Arthur's footsteps," Nick said.

"I love stories about King Arthur," Lamont said. "His knights are a kind of medieval special forces, always fighting their way out of trouble. Reminds me of us."

"The Grail would be a handy thing to have around if you got shot," Ronnie said. "I can think of times we could've used a miracle."

"Like Indiana Jones in the movie," Lamont said. "Remember? Harrison Ford poured water from the Grail onto Sean Connery after he'd been shot by the Nazi and it healed the wound."

"Don't forget the knight," Stephanie said. "He'd been guarding the Grail for what, hundreds of years? Drinking water from the Grail kept him from dying."

"Must've been boring," Lamont said, "sitting there all that time with no one to talk to and nothing to do except look at a bunch of cups on a shelf."

Elizabeth rapped sharply on her desk. "Shall we talk about the mission?"

"Sorry, Director," Lamont said. Nick hid a smile behind his hand.

"Stephanie made the connection to Sumela in less than a day, researching the tile. If she did it, so can ISIS. If the monks had the Grail, they would have hidden it with the icon and taken it back to Macedonia when they got the icon out of Turkey. Going to Greece is the next logical step, for us and for whoever might be after it."

"How are we supposed to know who the bad guys are if they show up?" Lamont asked. "They'll probably look like everybody else."

"He has a point, Elizabeth," Selena said.

"This isn't any different than trying to ID terrorists in a crowd. There will be something that gives them away."

"What do you want us to do if we find them?" Nick asked.

"Find out what they know and who sent them."

"Where's the monastery located?"

"Macedonia, at the foot of Mount Vermion, around three hundred and fifty kilometers northwest of Athens. You'll fly into Athens and connect to a city called Veroia. The monastery is less than two hours from there. You can rent a car and drive the rest of the way."

"And if we don't find anything helpful?"

"Whatever you find, after that you're going to Milan."

Lamont said, "I bet they've got good pizza there."

Elizabeth gave him a look that told him he'd better be quiet.

"What's in Milan?" Nick asked.

"The Companions of the Holy Grail," Stephanie said. "It's a religious society, headed up by an Italian count named Mercurio. I went looking for something about that gold ring Bellini was wearing, the one you photographed in Sweden. It's only worn by members of the society."

"Did you find out why Bellini was at Bergstrom's house?"

"The Swedish police found correspondence between Bergstrom and Count Mercurio," Elizabeth said. "Bergstrom was negotiating with Mercurio for the Anastasius tile and Bellini was his representative. Mercurio had purchased stolen antiquities in the past, but only from the early Christian era. He wasn't interested in anything else."

"He must be looking for clues, like we are," Selena said. "He wants to find the Grail."

"Pretty big leap," Nick said.

"What else could it be? He heads up a religious society that calls itself the Companions of the Grail."

"Maybe he just collects things about the Grail. Lots of people collect things that interest them."

"So he sends someone to Sweden to offer Bergstrom a stack of euros for that tile? I don't think so."

"When you get to Milan, you can ask him why he wanted it," Elizabeth said.

"What if he doesn't want to tell us?" Ronnie asked.

"Mercurio's interest seems to be religious, not criminal. You'll just have to ask him nicely. Remind him about what happened to Bellini. He needs to know that he's stepped into the middle of something out of his league."

"The last time we had a mission that took us to a church, we ended up in a hell of a firefight," Ronnie said.

"Try not to do that this time," Elizabeth said.

CHAPTER 21

The flight to Greece was long and boring. From the air, Athens was almost invisible under a thick blanket of brown smog. On the ground, the polluted air stung their eyes. You could almost hear the smog eating away at the ancient stones of the acropolis.

Diplomatic passports took them and their weapons through customs without a luggage search. They spent the night at a hotel near the airport. In the morning they connected for a flight to Macedonia and Veroia.

Selena's fluent Greek smoothed the way everywhere they went. They rented a Toyota Land Cruiser at the airport in Veroia. When Selena explained that they had come to visit the holy icon of Soumela, she was met with smiles and advice. She spoke with the clerk for several minutes before taking the keys and a map.

Once they were outside, Nick asked, "What was all that?"

"She was very helpful. The monastery is on Mount Vermion. The nearest town is Kastania. The clerk has a cousin there who owns a hotel. She said it's the best hotel in town and we should stay there because the beds are clean and the food is good."

Lamont said, "That sounds like a great recommendation. You can put up with a lot if the food's good."

"I didn't know you liked Greek food," Ronnie said.

"Hell, yes, I do. Like that lamb on a spit, what do you call it?"

"Souvlaki," Ronnie said.

"And that bread they serve with it."

Selena smiled. "Pita bread. There's a lot more to Greek food than that."

"Good. I'll try it all."

They got in the car. It smelled vaguely of onions.

Kastania was less than fifty kilometers from Veroia. It was a straightforward drive along a good highway that passed through a broad valley outside of the city before it started the climb into the mountains. After about twenty minutes they turned off for the town.

The road was a typical, narrow mountain road with blind curves and sheer drops. A low guard rail formed the only barrier along the cliffs. In most places going through the rail meant certain death.

Selena was looking at a brochure about Kastania she'd taken from a rack at the car rental.

"It's a small town with only a few hundred people, set on the slope of Mount Vermion. The main attraction is that it's near the monastery."

"We'll be there soon," Nick said.

The hotel was easy enough to find. There weren't a lot to choose from. At the desk, Selena chatted away with the clerk, the nephew of the woman at the car rental in Veroia. He gave them keys to rooms on the second floor, old type skeleton keys marked by a large tag with the room number on them, the kind you left at the desk when you went out.

The rooms looked out through arched windows over the plain below. A wide river ran through it. There were snowcapped mountains in the distance.

"Nice view," Nick said. "I'll bet they fought some big battles on that plain in the old days. It's a natural. That river had to be an important artery."

Selena came over to stand beside him. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"It probably still is, and you're right about the history. Alexander's armies went through here, and his father's before him."

"This whole country is soaked in blood. Nothing ever changes, only the weapons and the names of the generals."

"That's really cynical, Nick."

"You know it's true. They always say that people who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it but nobody ever seems to learn a damn thing. You look at what's going on in the world and it's the same old, same old. The people in charge keep making the same mistakes for the same reasons, and people like us have to clean up after them."

"I've never heard you talk like this before."

"I'm going to be a year older next month and I've been doing this my whole adult life. There's always another asshole waiting right around the corner, out to screw everything up for everyone else. I'm not sure what I'm fighting for any more."

"We're on a quest for the Holy Grail! How many people can say that?"

"You're a romantic."

"Yes, and so are you."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Don Quixote, always going against insurmountable odds for the sake of truth and justice."

"Someone has to do something about the people who want to tear down everything that's good," Nick said.

"See? You're a romantic, just like Cervantes' hero."

"Don Quixote tilted against windmills. They didn't shoot back with AKs."

"No, but you don't carry a lance and ride a horse, either."

Lamont knocked on the open door.

"Hey, it's time to eat."

Map provided by the Central Intelligence Agency

CHAPTER 22

Abu Abdul Haddad brushed away an annoying fly and gazed out a missing window at the sluggish waters of the Euphrates flowing past. He hardly noticed the unpleasant odor coming from the mother of rivers. The river stank of sewage and death. The treatment plants in the Syrian city of Raqqa had long since ceased to function.

Sanitation was low on the priority list for funding in the current capital of the Islamic State. There were more pressing needs. Recruitment. Propaganda. Weapons and training. No one would complain about the smell if they knew what was good for them.

The West liked to picture the leaders and officials of the Islamic State as ignorant barbarians, but Haddad had gone to Cambridge. Fluent in English, schooled in the psychology of the West, he'd been an important player in Saddam Hussein's ruthless secret police before the foreigners invaded Iraq.

When Haddad thought about the rapid collapse of Saddam's regime, he saw Allah's will at work. The Americans had been Allah's instrument. Without the defeat of Saddam and the destabilization of the region that followed, the caliphate could not have come into existence. Now the bright flame of Islam was spreading across the world.

Haddad was a key official in the murderous hierarchy of the Islamic State, in charge of foreign intelligence. He was marked for assassination by the coalition of infidels arrayed against the caliphate. It was a source of private pride. A CIA "capture or kill on sight" order was acknowledgment of his effectiveness.

He adjusted a pair of old-fashioned round glasses perching on his large nose. For the third time he read the report from his spy in the Swedish police force. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. He had read the Arthurian legends at the University and knew the story of the Grail.

A relic of Isa that is legend to the infidel. We had information about it in our hands and let it get away.

A tall, thin man with a tangled beard that reached halfway down his chest entered the room. Asif Nawabi was from Afghanistan, a veteran of the war with Russia. He had been trained by the CIA to kill Russians. Now he killed the enemies of the caliphate. A shrapnel scar crawled across his forehead like a red worm.

"Abu. I have heard from Sweden."

Haddad swiveled in his chair to face Nawabi. "Was the box recovered?"

"Yes, Abu. The police had it but it is ours now."

"These Americans who interfered at Hussein's. Why were they in Sweden?"

"The Swedish government requested a specialized team to advise them. They are a counterterrorism unit operating under the American president's orders. I have their dossiers."

Nawabi placed a folder on Haddad's desk. Haddad opened it and began reading. His subordinate waited, used to Haddad's ways of working. After a few minutes, Haddad looked up.

He tapped the photograph of Selena. "This woman. She translated the scrolls."

"Yes."

Haddad slammed his fist down on the desk. "That box should never have left the caliphate."

"We didn't know the box was important, then. The man who sent it with the rest of the artifacts has been executed."

"Yes, but the damage is done."

"Does it really matter, Abu? The cup disappeared two thousand years ago."

"It matters to the unbelievers. It matters to us. It is a relic of the prophet Isa."

"The scrolls prove it existed," Nawabi said, "but they don't say anything about where it was taken."

"Tell me, Asif, what would you do if you discovered information about a holy relic of the Prophet, praise be upon him? A relic enshrined in myth?"

"I would be joyous to learn of its existence."

"What else?"

"If I knew where it was, I would look for it."

"Exactly. That is what we are going to do. Look for this object so beloved by the Christians. And that is what they will do."

"But we don't know where it is or if it still exists."

Haddad took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He carefully placed them back and looked up at Nawabi.

"That is true, we don't. It may not be possible to find it. But if it is, the Americans will try."

"What about the Swedes?"

"The Swedes!" Haddad's voice dripped with contempt. "No, it will be the Americans. If anyone can find it, it will be them."

"What are your instructions, Abu?"

"They will search for the relic. We will follow them. Let them do the work. If they find it we will kill them and take it."

"As you wish, Abu. And if they do not find it?"

"We will kill them anyway. Hussein was a friend of mine."

A foul smell floated into the room from the river and Haddad wrinkled his nose. Bloated bodies filled with the gases of decay floated down from Aleppo every day. Sometimes a body would come up against debris and burst open.

"Assign your team. Keep me informed."

It was a dismissal.

"At once, Abu." Nawabi left the room.

Haddad thought about the Christians and how they distorted everything with their false religion. The cup that caught the blood of Christ was an important relic, but not for the reasons they thought. Christ was called Isa in Islam, the last prophet before Mohammed. When he reappeared, it would signal the coming of the Mahdi.

The cup would be a powerful propaganda tool if it could be found. It would drive the Christians into a frenzy if they knew ISIS had recovered it. It would bring thousands of new recruits to the black flag of the caliphate. In the end, it didn't matter whether the it was found or not. The ultimate outcome was going to be the same.

The Day of Reckoning and the final battle were coming soon.

CHAPTER 23

The monastery of Panagia Soumela was five kilometers out of Kastania, a pleasant drive from the hotel. The area around the church had been turned into a park with a large parking area for tourists and pilgrims.

The building was cruciform in the Greek Orthodox fashion, the walls of brown and white stone, the curved roofs of red tile. Three soaring archways fronted the church. Smaller archways led to secondary entrances on each side. A massive round tower with long, narrow windows rose over the building and dominated the setting.

Only a few cars were parked in the extensive lot outside. The church was a popular pilgrimage point but it was a weekday and late in the season. The chill of coming winter hung in the mountain air.

Nick dropped money in a donation box as they entered.

Lamont said, "Man, look at this place."

His voice echoed in the cavernous building. A dozen people, tourists or worshipers, wandered about the church.

"Someone spent a lot of money and went to a lot of trouble to build this," Selena said. "You'd expect to see a church like this in a major city with a big congregation, not a little mountain town. It's more like a cathedral than a church."

Ronnie looked up. "How high do you think that ceiling is?"

"I don't know," Nick said. "A hundred feet?"

The ceiling was groined in medieval style, painted with religious figures and crosses. Rows of slatted wooden chairs faced the main altar. A wooden railing separated the public area from the altar. Behind the altar was an elaborate carved backdrop of dark wood, framing rows of painted icons. An enormous chandelier hung over the chairs. The air smelled of incense.

"Where's the icon that causes miracles?" Lamont asked.

Selena pointed at a separate alcove off to the side of the main room. "I think that's it."

They walked over and stood in front of it.

The icon was recessed inside an elaborate housing and lit on both sides. A curtain was pulled back to the sides of the painting. A chain stretched between brass posts to keep people from getting too close. A short pillar with a vase holding fresh flowers stood on each side of the painting. Beyond them, two enormous brass stands reached toward the ceiling, each with three tall columns mounted to hold candles. Four icons of saints hung on the wall behind. A crystal chandelier blazed with light overhead.

Ronnie peered at the ancient painting. "Pretty hard to see what it's supposed to be."

"You can just make out the shape of the Virgin Mary and the infant Jesus," Selena said. "Don't forget, this is supposed to be two thousand years old. It's had time to fade."

"Okay," Lamont said. "We've seen the icon. Now what?"

Nick pointed at a priest walking across the room.

"That priest looks old enough to be in charge. Selena, go talk to him. Get him talking about how the icon was hidden and recovered. We have to start somewhere."

She left them standing near the alcove with the miraculous icon, went over to the priest and greeted him. Soon they were in an animated conversation.

Three men entered the church. Nick's ear began itching. He reached up and tugged on the mutilated lobe, where a Chinese bullet had clipped him on the day he'd met Selena.

"You're doing that thing again," Ronnie said.

"What thing?"

"Pulling on your ear."

"Just a habit," Nick said. "It doesn't always mean trouble."

"Yeah, sure," Ronnie said.

Sometimes when something bad was going to happen, his ear began itching. The worse it itched, the more trouble was coming his way. It was a gift or a curse, depending on how you looked at it. The gift had made his Irish grandmother an outcast in the old country, but it had saved Nick's life more than once.

"It's probably nothing," he said.

"Looks like Selena is getting along fine with the priest," Lamont said.

"I'm more interested in those three that just came in."

"They don't feel right to me," Lamont said. "One of them just looked at us, pretending he wasn't."

"Maybe he's checking you out," Ronnie said.

"Nah. You're more his type."

Nick sighed. "You guys want to cut it out?"

"Here comes Selena." Ronnie nodded in her direction.

"Any luck?" Nick asked.

"Nothing useful. When they went back for the icon they recovered a few other things they'd hidden when they were forced to leave. He didn't say anything about a cup."

"He wouldn't, would he? I wonder if there's an archive, a record of what they hid away when they abandoned the monastery."

"There's no way they'll let us see any records."

"Not if we ask. We'll come back tonight."

CHAPTER 24

They parked down the road from the church and walked the rest of the way. Dressed in dark clothes, they were almost invisible under a moonless sky.

Breaking into the church was easy. The doors and entrances were stout in the old tradition and locked at night, but the locks were modern. Ronnie worked his picks and within a minute they were inside the building. Nick waited to see if an alarm would sound. All was silent.

Most of the cavernous space was in shadow. A few candles burned in the darkness, creating a feeling of a time long past. The miraculous icon was lit in its alcove across the way. It gave off a soft, golden glow.

"The office is that way," Selena said.

"Stay away from the icon," Nick said. "I wouldn't be surprised if they have an alarm set for that."

The office door was unlocked. Inside was a desk, a computer, and a row of gray filing cabinets. An old-fashioned floor safe on wheels sat against one wall. It was painted green and decorated with leaves and vines painted in fading gold leaf. There was a large combination dial in the center of the door, with a brass handle underneath.

A single nightlight lit the room. A glass display case with religious artifacts, documents and several old books sat against one wall..

Selena looked at the filing cabinets. "I'm surprised they don't have everything on computers by now."

"They might keep the files as physical backup," Nick said.

"How do you want to start?" Selena asked.

"With the display case."

He tried the lid of the case. It was locked.

"I'll get it open," Ronnie said.

"Lamont, you've got sentry duty."

"Right."

Lamont went back into the main area.

Ronnie lifted the lid of the case and rested it against the wall.

"All yours, Kemo Sabe."

"See if you can get the safe open while we look here."

Ronnie went to the safe and knelt in front of it, leaned his ear against the door and began turning the dial. Selena started looking through the contents of the case. She ignored everything except the books and documents. After fifteen minutes, Ronnie was still working on the combination.

Nick was getting impatient.

"We can't stay here all night. Someone might check on the building once in a while."

Selena placed a leather bound journal back in the case. "This is hopeless, Nick. There's too much material to go through in a short time. Everything here is from when the monastery was in Turkey, but I haven't found anything dating back to the time of Anastasius."

"You think we're wasting our time?"

"There could be something in here but I don't see how we're going to find it without cooperation from the church authorities. We need permission to examine everything at leisure."

"Does anything stand out at all?"

Selena shook her head.

"What about the file cabinets?"

"We're here, we might as well take a quick look."

Selena pulled open a drawer at random.

"These are construction invoices from nineteen fifty-two." She opened another drawer. "Comments about the annual Feast of the Dormition. It's the major celebration here."

"I never heard of that."

"It's a Greek Orthodox celebration. In their teachings, the Virgin Mary fell asleep when she died and was taken in her sleep to heaven. The feast is a celebration of her ascension."

Across the room, there was a loud sound of metal against metal as Ronnie unlocked the safe.

"Got it." He swung the door open.

"Good work, amigo."

"Not much in here. Looks like a few hundred dollars in cash, probably from the entrance donations. Some legal papers. A box."

"What's in the box?"

Ronnie stood, holding a flat metal box in his hands. The box was rusty and sharp cornered, made of tin. Ronnie pried back the lid and swore.

"Damn. Cut my finger on the edge of this thing."

He put the finger against his mouth and sucked on it. Then he looked down at the box.

"Whoa. We've got another tile here."

"Jackpot," Nick said.

Selena came over. "Let's see."

The tile was a mate to the one in Sweden. This one, too, showed a figure, but it was not the same man.

He was bearded like the emperor's confessor but was dressed differently, in a brown robe that hung to his sandaled feet. A rope belt encircled his waist. Keys hung from it.

There were other differences between the two tiles. This figure faced to the right. On the other tile, the priest had faced left. On the first tile, Anastasius was pointing at the earth with the index finger of his left hand and holding the Grail in front of him. On this one, the figure held a golden staff in his right hand, his index finger pointing to heaven. Toward the top of the staff, two snakes curled toward each other. At the top was a cross composed of four diamonds. His left arm was held out in front of him, his hand open in anticipation of receiving something. Rays of light streamed down on him from above.

Beneath the figure was a phrase in Latin.

Et infra, ut supra

"As below, so above," Selena said. "This man looks like a monk, not a priest."

Lamont came into the office. "I think I saw someone outside."

"Time to boogie," Nick said. "Ronnie, you take the box."

The candles in the church cast enough light to see where they were going without flashlights. They moved in a fast crouch across the floor. At the side entrance where they'd come in, Nick paused.

"If we run into someone out there, chances are he'll be local. Don't hurt him."

There was no one outside. If someone had been there, he was gone. Their car was on the side of the road about fifty yards from the parking lot. They were almost to it when three men stepped out of the darkness. They were holding AK carbines that had been concealed under their winter jackets.

The leader pointed his weapon at Nick. He was stocky, bearded. He wore a wool watch cap pulled down over his ears.

"Far enough. You stop there. Hands up."

The three I saw in the church, Nick thought. That accent is Middle Eastern, probably Iraq.

They raised their hands. "What do you want?" Nick asked. "We don't have much money."

"Not money. You look for something in church. Tell us what you find."

"Now hold on there, buddy," Lamont said. "We just went in there to pay our respects to the Virgin."

"Virgin?" one of the men said to the leader.

"Shut up, Abdul."

Ronnie glanced at Nick. His raised hand moved toward the back of his head. The three men were close, no more than ten feet away, but that was still a long way to go against someone holding an AK.

Nick moved a step closer.

The leader was nervous. "You stay where you are. No move."

"Sorry," Nick said. "There was a stone under my shoe."

In a blur, Ronnie drew his throwing knife from the sheath behind his neck and hurled it at the leader. It took him under the right eye. He screamed and staggered back, blood spouting from the wound, the knife protruding from his face.

His finger spasmed and the gun fired into the ground, a hard sound in the cold night. He fell forward onto the pavement, clawing at the knife.

The sudden violence shocked the other two, long enough to delay them a critical second. Lamont drew his knife and went for the man on the right. With the haft held in his left hand and the blade facing outward, he brought the knife across with a backslash motion that opened the terrorist's throat to the spine. A fountain of blood sprayed from the wound. The dying man fell to the floor.

Selena went after the man on the left and got inside his guard. He blocked her elbow strike and clubbed her in the side with his carbine. She grunted and drove a rigid fist into his throat. The strike came all the way from her shoulder, aimed at the space behind his neck. It was a killing blow, crushing the larynx. He choked and stumbled away trying to breathe, then collapsed. His body spasmed as he gasped for air. Selena backed away and watched until he stopped moving.

"Search them," Nick said.

A quick search turned up passports and an assortment of currency, a set of car keys, pistols and knives. Ronnie stuffed everything in his pack.

"We'd better get out of here," Lamont said. "That was a lot of noise. Someone might come looking."

Nick looked around. "Where's their car?"

"Over there."

He pointed at a car parked about fifty feet away.

"Move it here," Nick said. He tossed Lamont the keys. "We'll put them in it and send them down the side of the mountain. It will confuse things."

Lamont ran to the car, got in, started it and drove up to where they stood over the bodies. He got out and left the car running.

"Get these guys inside."

It didn't take long to move the dead men into the car. They tossed the AKs in after them. Nick propped the leader up behind the wheel and patted him on the shoulder.

"Say hello to Allah for me."

Lamont found a large rock by the side of the road. Nick jammed it against the accelerator and the engine roared. He turned the wheel so that the car would go off the road, down a steep incline and through a grove of trees. He reached through the open door, put the car in gear and jumped away.

The car shot forward, sailed off the side of the road and dropped into the trees. The sound of crunching metal and breaking branches seemed to go on for a long time.

They got in their rented Toyota and headed back toward town.

CHAPTER 25

Elizabeth and DCI Clarence Hood were eating dinner in a private room on the second floor of an exclusive restaurant in Georgetown, not far from Elizabeth's brownstone. The room was decorated with Victorian furniture and textured, flowered wallpaper. The lighting was subdued and warm, mimicking the oil lamp wall sconces of the nineteenth century.

The restaurant was noted for discretion and privacy and boasted of security measures to protect against unauthorized eavesdropping. Even so, Hood had placed a small black box on the table, a product of CIA technology that made it impossible for unwelcome ears to listen in on their conversation.

"A little more wine, Elizabeth?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

"Dessert? They do an excellent crème brûlée here."

"I'll settle for a cup of coffee."

"Cognac?"

"Why not?".

A nineteenth century oil painting of George Washington hung on the wall by their table. Beneath it was a button set in a polished brass fitting. Hood pressed it and summoned the waiter. He ordered coffee and drinks for both of them.

"That was wonderful, Clarence, thank you."

"These dinners are fun, aren't they?" Hood said. "I'd almost forgotten what a good meal and pleasant conversation can do to restore a little balance in one's life."

"So had I."

The waiter reappeared with a cart bearing the coffee service, snifters and a bottle of Louis XIII cognac. He poured the coffee and drinks, placed a silver plated coffeepot and the bottle of cognac on the table, and left the room.

Hood added cream to his coffee.

"Do you mind if we talk about work for a bit?"

Elizabeth laughed. "No, not at all. You've been itching to talk to me about something all night."

"Am I that transparent?"

"Perhaps not to others. You're less guarded around me. I take it as a compliment."

"I find it easy to relax around you. And it helps that we both have the same security clearance."

"Why Clarence, how romantic of you. "

"I didn't mean… "

"I'm just teasing. What is it you want to talk about?"

"We've picked up a rumor about ISIS."

"There are always plenty of those."

"This one is different. They may have obtained a nuclear device."

The words vibrated in her body. "A bomb?"

"A nuclear warhead, an old one, but with enough material to make a low yield bomb."

"When you say low yield, what do you mean?"

"One or two kilotons. Enough to do a lot of damage. Especially if it were set off in a major city."

"How reliable is this rumor?"

"Very reliable. That's the problem. This particular source has always been accurate in the past. He's embedded in Raqqa and close enough to ISIS leadership to pick up things. They're close guarded but they lack discipline in some areas. People talk about things they've seen. They speculate. And speculation now is that Allah is soon going to strike the enemy with the fire of heaven."

"How poetic," Elizabeth said. "It could just be religious wishful thinking."

"It could, except we know that a black market Russian warhead was being shopped around in Turkey. We lost track of it. It could have ended up in Syria and Raqqa is right on the Euphrates. It would be simple enough to bring it down the river once you got across the border."

"If it's true, we have to find and destroy it." Elizabeth picked up her cognac. "I think I need this."

"We have an idea where it is," Hood said. "I need to confirm it before anything can be done. You're right, of course, we have to destroy it. But this is the kind of mission that can get complicated if it goes through the Pentagon."

Elizabeth poured more cognac in her glass. "I can see where you're going with this."

"What's the status of your team? I know about what happened in Sweden."

"They're in Greece, following up on that fourth century tile."

"Do you think the Grail exists?"

"Unless they find something to tell us where it is, I don't see how we'll ever know."

"Judging from what happened in Sweden, ISIS is taking the possibility seriously. Things are bad enough in the Middle East without having something like that turn up. All we need is more fuel on the religious fire. Hell, finding the Grail could start a new crusade, twenty-first century style."

"It would be bad news if they got their hands on it," Elizabeth said.

Hood drained his glass. "Then let's hope your team can put this to rest, one way or another."

"What about that warhead?"

"I need more information before we can pinpoint the location with accuracy. When I have that, I'd like you to consider using your team to go after it. You're the best choice if we want to keep everything out of the press. The media gets wind of it, we'll be accused of making up an excuse to start a new war."

"Echoes of Iraq," Elizabeth said.

"Yes."

Elizabeth looked at her watch. "I hate to end this, Clarence, but it's a long day tomorrow."

"Would you like to get together this weekend? I have a cottage on Chesapeake Bay and there aren't many people around at this time of year. The view is wonderful and we'll have privacy. What do you say?"

Elizabeth smiled at him. "I'll think about it."

CHAPTER 26

Elizabeth had just settled down at her desk with her first cup of coffee when Nick called. She hadn't slept well and she had a headache.

Probably that cognac I had. Or maybe it's thinking about ISIS getting a bomb.

"Good morning, Nick."

"We ran into a problem."

"Please don't tell me you had to shoot up the church," Elizabeth said.

She listened while Nick briefed her on what they'd discovered in the church. Then he told her about the three men who'd confronted them.

"You killed them?"

"They didn't give us any choice. We found French passports but they had to be ISIS."

"Tell me about the tile you found."

"It was in the church safe. Ronnie's got quite a career ahead of him once he stops working for the government."

"The tile, Nick." Elizabeth's voice was strained.

"It's the same size as the other one, only more beat up. It has to be a mate, but it's different. The figure on the tile looks like a monk, not a priest. Selena is sending you a picture right now."

In Virginia, Elizabeth waited as the picture of the tile appeared on her phone and on the wall monitor. Stephanie sat next to her.

"He's right," Steph said. "It has to be a mate to the other one."

Nick's voice came over the speaker. "Selena says that the Latin means 'as below, so above.'"

"That's just the opposite of how it's usually written," Stephanie said. "It's a metaphysical saying: 'As above, so below.'"

"Where are you now?" Elizabeth asked.

"On the road, headed for Bulgaria. It's not far to the border. From there we'll drive north to Sophia and get a flight. It will take the Greek cops a little while to ask themselves why we left town in the middle of the night. By the time they do, we'll be in the air."

"All right. Go to Milan and pay a visit to Count Mercurio. Steph will send you directions to his villa outside the city and the intel we've got about him and his religious group."

"Did the Swedes follow up on this? If they know Mercurio was trying to buy the tile, they've got him on a criminal charge."

"It's a little more complicated than that, Nick. Mercurio is one of the richest men in Italy and he has a lot of friends. The chances of him getting busted because he was trying to buy an illegal artifact are so slim, they're nonexistent."

"Then why should he tell us anything? We can't interrogate him."

"I want you to show him that second tile. You did take it with you when you left the church, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Use it to get his attention and gain his cooperation. He's after the same thing we are, if for a different reason. Everything Steph has found out about him indicates that he's one of the good guys."

"It won't take long for the Greeks to suspect we were involved in what happened to those three terrorists. They may not know that we were in the church. We left everything as it was, except for taking the tile. If we're lucky, no one will miss it for a while."

"Don't worry about the Greeks, I'll handle it."

"We'll be in Bulgaria soon," Nick said. "Anything else, Director?"

"No. Go talk to Mercurio."

Nick disconnected and put the phone back in his pocket.

"What's the word?" Ronnie asked.

"We're going to Milan."

"Pizza," Lamont said.

CHAPTER 27

Abdul Haddad sat in the backseat of a tan colored, armored Land Rover that had once belonged to the Iraqi army. He watched the Syrian desert speeding past. The sun was a golden ball of fire, the sky a gray-blue dome that stretched to the horizon. Air blowing through the open windows smelled of dry sand and heated rock.

Sitting next to Haddad was a pinched little man wearing thick glasses with heavy black frames, reading a technical abstract dealing with the finer points of nuclear fission. The paper was written in French. The principles of creating a nuclear explosion were the same in any language.

Rashid Jaffari had been educated in the West, taking an advanced degree at MIT. He'd been working on building a bomb for Saddam Hussein before the invasion but had run out of time before it could be completed. He'd gone to ground in the lawless mountains of Pakistan before the Americans could capture him. Now he'd been given a second chance to finish his work. This time, he would not be interrupted before he was done.

It was of little consequence to Rashid if success meant the deaths of many thousands of people. Rashid didn't think of nonbelievers as people. He thought of them as less than human, doomed by their refusal to see the truth of the Messenger's teachings. When the Day of Retribution came and they died and found themselves in hell, they would have only themselves to blame. If true believers also died, Allah would welcome them with open arms.

There were few of those in the city where ISIS planned to detonate the bomb.

The Land Rover turned off the desert road onto a rough track leading toward a row of rugged hills a few miles away. The driver stopped, got out of the car and attached a drag behind the vehicle to obscure the tire marks. He got back in and they proceeded at a crawl, driving slowly to avoid raising a dust trail that might capture the attention of a passing drone or satellite. After twenty minutes the track descended into a broad wadi running between the hills. During the rainy season, a shallow river ran through the ravine, bringing life to the desert. The rains were late this year. The valley was dry and brown, marked by outcroppings of rock as black as the hearts of the men sitting in the car.

"We're almost there," Haddad said.

Rashid looked up from his paper.

"Good." He tapped the paper in his lap. "This has given me the final piece of information I was seeking. Have the rest of the materials arrived?"

"Yes. Everything we recovered from Iraq. It will all be familiar to you. Everything will be brought down to you tomorrow."

"You found the sealed containers?"

"Yes. Your directions were very good. The Americans passed the site without ever noticing what was there. The camouflage was perfect."

"We'd been warned," Rashid said. "We knew they were coming. It gave us enough time. The Russian warhead you provided was in poor shape but useful for my design. By incorporating the material that was stored in the containers, the effect of the warhead will be amplified considerably. The yield should be in the neighborhood of five kilotons, about half the size of the bombs which destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki."

"Excellent, excellent. It is a great thing we do, my brother. God will be pleased."

Rashid placed his hand over his heart. "We are but His servants."

The car slowed as it came to several large boulders strewn across the riverbed. It looked natural to a casual observer, but the boulders forced anyone coming down the riverbed to drive between them. Camouflage netting stretched overhead. As they passed the first boulder three men appeared as if from nowhere, armed with AKs. One of them held up his hand. The driver stopped the car. The guard looked inside, saw Haddad and Rashid, and waved them through.

They passed a second boulder and found themselves in front of a cave in the side of the ravine. The entrance was invisible from above, broad and high enough to let a good-sized truck pass through. Once inside, the cave widened to forty or fifty yards across. The car came to a halt. Rashid and Haddad climbed out.

Haddad stretched his arms and yawned. "I am going back as soon as I see what you have done. Al-Baghdadi wants a report on our progress."

"Tell him we are nearing completion."

"When will the work be finished?"

"If all goes well, less than a week. The bomb is already partially assembled."

"Be careful, Rashid. This is not the time for you to walk the martyr's path. You are too valuable to lose."

"I survived the incompetence of Saddam's sons and the missiles of the Americans," Rashid said. "I can survive this. Don't worry, my brother. I have no desire for paradise just yet. Come, let me show you what I have accomplished."

The cave extended back into the hill for almost a hundred yards. The floor had been smoothed over and rooms dug out of the sides. Supplies and sleeping arrangements for the guards took up the first half of the cave. There were always at least a dozen men awake and on duty while the others slept. They cooked only at night, inside the cave, so heat from the fire would not register on the satellites passing overhead.

The rest of the cave was sealed off by plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling. A heavy table mounted on a four wheeled platform was visible through the plastic. Rashid's bomb sat on top of it.

Rashid took out a dosimeter and placed it on Haddad's shirt. He took out another for himself and pinned it on. He held the plastic aside for Haddad to enter the room.

"Is it safe?"

"Quite safe," Rashid said. "The dosimeter is a routine precaution. The plutonium is stored in that container by the wall. The enriched uranium is on the other side. As long as everything remains sealed in its container, there is no danger. Everything will be prepared before hand for the final assembly. I will be wearing a radiation suit to protect me."

"Is there any chance of an accidental explosion?"

"As long as the trigger is not detonated, no. This is a very basic design, a gun-type weapon. We do not have the equipment for something more sophisticated, but it is of little importance."

"How does it work?"

"A charge of Semtex is detonated to begin the process. The explosion shoots a quantity of enriched uranium at high velocity into another compact mass of enriched uranium. That provides the critical mass needed to set off the chain reaction. It's very inefficient but highly effective. I will pack plutonium around it. The plutonium will not detonate but it will create a lethal cloud of dust. This will be a very dirty bomb. The ground will be poisoned for thousands of years, for miles around."

Jaffari had built his bomb inside a metal chest the size of a footlocker, the kind of container that could be found on any construction site or oil rig. The lid was open. Wires ran from a digital panel and counter on the inside of the lid, the down into the interior.

"As you can see," Rashid said, "I have not yet added the final components. Once everything is in place, the panel is ready for programming. The bomb can easily be moved in a van or truck. It is a true accomplishment to make this from what was available."

Rashid's voice resonated with pride.

"Is it dangerous to transport?"

"Until it has been programmed to fire it is safe, but there will be some radiation leakage. Those who deliver the weapon to the target must be prepared for martyrdom."

"There will be no shortage of volunteers," Haddad said. "This is a mission that will bring great honor to them."

"Sometimes I wonder what use honor is to someone who has died to gain it," Rashid said.

Haddad looked at him in surprise. "You had better not let others hear you say that. It might be taken the wrong way."

"I know, I know," Rashid said. "You are my oldest friend, Abdul. If I cannot trust you then I am lost."

Haddad embraced him. "You are not lost, my brother. Take your doubts to Allah in prayer. Now I must return."

The two men walked back to the entrance of the cave.

"Drive slowly," Rashid said. "The American satellites are very good at paying attention to dust trails."

CHAPTER 28

It was late afternoon when their flight arrived in Milan. Nick rented a red Alfa Romeo, a brand-new Giulia. Two hundred and seventy six Italian horses that could hit a hundred and fifty on a good day. Selena smiled when she saw the car. She got behind the wheel and plugged the location into her GPS. They headed out of the airport and the city toward Mercurio's Villa in the foothills of the mountains.

"Nice country," Nick said.

Lamont leaned over the front seat and pointed at a range of snowcapped mountains not far away.

"Those the Italian Alps?"

Selena nodded. "Hannibal crossed them during the Second Punic War to take on the Romans. It was quite a feat, one of the great military accomplishments in ancient times."

"He the guy with the elephants?" Ronnie asked.

"Yes. If you were a Roman soldier, it must've been a terrifying sight when Hannibal came down out of the mountains with them. In the end, it didn't make any difference. The Romans won."

"Man, I'll take a doped up jihadi with an AK any day over a pissed off elephant trying to stomp on me," Lamont said.

The approach to Mercurio's Villa was along a country road bordered by hedges and tall trees. They started passing a high stone wall on the right. Selena was watching her GPS.

"Were getting close. The entrance should be up here on the right."

"This wall must border his property," Nick said.

They came to a pair of closed, black wrought iron gates. In the center of the gates, the iron had been worked into an elaborate crest. A call box was mounted on one of the stone columns supporting the gates. Nick lowered his window and pressed the call button.

"Chi è, per favore?"

The voice from the speaker belonged to a woman.

"What did she say?" Nick asked.

"She asked who it was," Selena said. She leaned across the seat and spoke into the speaker.

"Vogliamo parlare con il conte."

"Conte Mercurio non riceve visitatori."

"Digli Anastasio ci ha inviato".

The speaker was silent.

"What was all that about?" Ronnie asked.

"I told her we wanted to speak with the count. She said he wasn't receiving. I told her to tell him Anastasius sent us."

"Good one," Lamont said.

There was a loud click. The lock on the gates released and they swung open. Nick put the car in gear.

The drive to the villa was paved with white gravel that crunched under their tires. It was immaculate, not a weed in sight, bordered on either side by a long row of Italian cypress trees. Each tree was planted exactly the same distance from the next. The manicured, green grass bordering the drive would have done justice to a world-class golf course.

They came around a curve and saw the villa, a three-story, yellow building with a red tile roof. It sat at the foot of a steep slope where the mountains began. A wide, shaded veranda on the second floor faced the drive. On the right, the ground sloped sharply away from the drive, down to a flat area and a long, rectangular swimming pool surrounded by trees and flowers. The water in the pool was still and dark.

"Nice digs," Lamont said. "What does this guy do again?"

"He produces olive oil," Nick said. "A lot of it."

"Like the Godfather?"

"Harker says he's one of the good guys."

"Everyone's a good guy to somebody," Lamont said.

An unsmiling, middle-aged woman in a blue dress that reached down to a pair of black, sturdy shoes waited for them by the entrance to the villa. A colonnaded portico extended out over the entry. Nick parked the car under it and turned to Ronnie and Lamont in the back seat.

"I don't want to spook him. It might be better if the two of you stayed in the car while Selena and I go in."

"Why would he get spooked?" Lamont asked.

"Are you kidding? One look at you would do it."

The scar across Lamont's face tended to make people wary the first time they saw him.

"Hey, I'm not so bad when you get to know me," Lamont said.

"Mmm," Nick said.

Nick and Selena got out of the car. Selena greeted the woman.

"Buon giorno, signora. Parli inglese?"

"Yes, I speak English. Who are you?"

"My name is Selena, and this is my husband, Nick. We've come to talk with the count about something important to him."

"Anastasius."

"Yes."

Her expression was unfriendly. "Count Mercurio is not a well man. I must ask you to respect that. The name you mentioned has upset him."

"That was not my intention," Selena said. "On the contrary, we have information for him that he'll want to hear."

The woman sniffed. "Follow me."

She swept away, not bothering to see if they followed.

"Friendly," Nick said.

"She being protective," Selena said.

They followed her up a wide, marble staircase to the second story and then down a tiled hall to a set of tall, wooden doors open at the end.

"The count will receive you in his study," the woman said.

She gestured at the open doors and stood aside. Selena and Nick walked past her into a large room that was part study, part library. The ceiling was fourteen feet high, giving the room a sense of regal space. The floor was made of reddish tile and scattered with antique Persian rugs. One wall featured an enormous bookcase filled with books. At the far end, tall French doors opened onto a balcony.

Count Mercurio stood as they entered. Selena's first thought on seeing him was that he looked as though he should be sailing on the Riviera rather than waiting to talk with a pair of foreign strangers who had disrupted his day. He wore a light blue silk sport jacket, dark slacks and polished black loafers. His shirt was a creamy white, open at the collar. A silk handkerchief peeked from his breast pocket. On the third finger of his left hand was a large gold ring, identical to the one Bellini had worn in Sweden.

Selena introduced herself and Nick in Italian.

"You are American," Mercurio said. "Please, speak English. I need the practice. I must admit, I am intrigued. What do you know about Anastasius?"

"We didn't mean to disturb you, Count."

"You've been talking to Maria, haven't you? She saw me react and she worries about me. Pay no attention."

Selena took out to photographs. The first was of the Anastasius tile. She passed it over to him and followed up with a picture of the tile they'd found in Greece.

Mercurio sucked in a breath. "I see. We'd better sit down."

He gestured toward the doors by the balcony, where a couch, chairs and low table formed a comfortable grouping. Mercurio took a seat on the couch.

"You obviously know of my interest in Anastasius. What else do you know?"

"We know about your connection with Bergstrom," Nick said. "We also know it was your agent who was murdered with him in Sweden."

A look of distress flashed across Mercurio's face. It was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Antonio was much more than an agent. He was a very old friend. Are you police? Interpol?"

"No. We're not interested in creating problems for you. The antiquities you've been buying from Bergstrom are brought out of the Middle East by ISIS. They use the money to fund their terror tactics. We want to shut them down."

"Are you CIA? By the way, your pistol is showing."

Nick looked down. The butt of his Sig was visible under his jacket.

"We're not CIA," Selena said, "but we work for our government. A smaller agency. It was ISIS that killed your friend and Bergstrom. They were looking for the Anastasius tile."

"Oh, dear."

"You may be in danger," Selena said. "We found you without much trouble by tracing the ring your friend was wearing. The tile and the ring were evidence. They were supposed to be safe in Stockholm but they've gone missing. Someone in the Swedish police is working for ISIS, which means the caliphate knows about you."

"Oh, dear," Mercurio said again.

He picked up a bell from the table and rang it. The woman Mercurio had called Maria came into the room within seconds.

Listening outside, Nick thought.

"Maria, please bring the Sancerre. The 2010 vintage. And glasses."

Maria gave Nick and Selena another disapproving look and left the room.

"She means well," Mercurio said.

Selena said, "We know you're looking for the Grail. Tell us about the Companions."

Mercurio sighed. "The society was founded in the 1500s. The search for the Grail has always been the real reason for our existence, although these days most do not join with serious intent. That serves us well. It gives us the look of another religious organization that exists for social reasons. Antonio was the only other member who knew about the tile. We both felt it confirmed the manuscript."

"What manuscript?" Nick asked.

Maria came back into the room with a tray bearing the wine and three crystal glasses. She set the tray down and reached for the bottle.

"I'll do that," Mercurio said.

"Signor… "

"It's all right, Maria. Thank you."

When she was gone, Mercurio opened the bottle.

"We'll let it breathe for a bit."

"What manuscript?" Nick asked again.

Mercurio stood and walked over to a cupboard on the far wall, opened it and took out a flat wooden box. He carried it over to the table where they were sitting and sat down. He lifted the lid off the box. Inside was a single yellowed page, protected by an archival glass case filled with inert gas. The page was covered with fading lines of brown ink.

"This manuscript," he said.

CHAPTER 29

Selena looked at the page and Nick saw her face take on a look he'd seen before. However she'd changed since joining the Project, her first passion would always be for ancient languages. Almost nothing could get her attention as much as some faded document covered with a language that had been dead for thousands of years.

"This is a form of Latin that was popular in the first part of the Christian era," she said.

"You can read it?" Mercurio looked surprised.

"Easily. Where did you get this?"

"It came into the possession of the companions about a hundred years ago. One of my predecessors discovered it in Turkey."

Selena bent over the page and began reading. After a few moments she looked up.

"What does it say?" Nick asked.

"It was written by someone from Sumela monastery, the one that had the icon before the Turks shut it down. According to this, after Theodosius died a priest named Anastasius came to the monastery with a holy object given to him by the emperor. It has to be the man on the tile."

"He brought the Grail with him?"

"It doesn't say that, but it's a good guess. Whoever wrote this didn't want anyone to know what the object was, but he wanted to make sure there was a record of it."

"What happened to it?"

"It doesn't say."

"Of course not. That would be too easy," Nick said.

"Do you see why I wanted to obtain the tile?" Mercurio said. "When Bergstrom sent me a picture, I knew it had to be the same Anastasius mentioned in this document. I thought I might learn something from the tile that might not be evident in a photograph."

"Something to lead you to the Grail," Nick said.

"That's right."

"I examined the tile," Selena said. "There wasn't anything that can't be seen in the photographs. No hidden marks, for example."

"But now we have this second tile," Mercurio said. "This is most interesting."

"Tell him about the Book of Simon," Nick said.

Mercurio looked at him and then at Selena. "The Book of Simon?"

"ISIS sent a shipment of looted antiquities to Sweden, along with a stockpile of arms and ammunition. One of the artifacts was a silver box with two scrolls inside it. The scrolls dated from the time of the crucifixion. "'The Book of Simon' was inscribed on the lid of the box. It was written by Simon of Cyrene. You know who he is, I assume?"

"Of course."

"Simon wrote about the crucifixion. At first it's like the other descriptions in the Bible. Like the others, it mentions Joseph of Arimathea. At that point it becomes different."

"Joseph of Arimathea?" Mercurio said. "In medieval myths he was supposed to have carried the Grail to England, to Glastonbury. I have never given those stories much credence."

"Whether or not he went to England, Joseph did catch the blood of Christ in a cup, if we believe what Simon wrote. I'm certain the scrolls are authentic, at least in terms of age. They're written in a style of biblical Aramaic that was used at the time of the crucifixion."

Mercurio looked as if he was about to have a heart attack. His face, already pale and drawn, turned ghostly white. He took a small box from his pocket and extracted a pill. He reached for his wine and washed it down.

"Are you all right?" Selena asked.

"Yes, yes, it's just the shock. All these years, ever since I began searching, I have doubted many times that the Grail ever existed. But you have just confirmed that it did. I will never be able to thank you enough."

"We still don't know where it is," she said, "or if it still exists."

"You might want to have a little more wine," Nick said. "Selena, tell him about the prophecy."

"I'm not sure I can take another revelation," Mercurio said. He smiled to show that he wasn't serious, but poured another glass of Sancerre. "What prophecy?"

"Simon had a vision," Selena said. "He writes that an angel appeared to him and told him Joseph was to be the first guardian of the Grail. The prophecy was about a time in the future when corruption would be everywhere and hypocrites and liars would rule the world while plotting war."

"Oh, dear, that sounds distressingly familiar," Mercurio said.

"The Angel told Simon that as long as the cup was in the hands of just men, God's judgment would be stayed, but if the cup were to fall into the hands of evil men, then the End of Days would begin."

Mercurio drank some wine. "May I call you Selena?"

"Of course."

"Are you a believer?"

"Not in the sense you mean it. I do believe in God, but for me the Grail is an historical object, not a mystical artifact."

"And you, Nick?"

"I believe in the mission, Count. Beyond that, I'm not sure what I believe."

"It may not matter," Mercurio said, "but I think you've been sent here for a reason."

"Whatever the reason, we need to figure out what we do next."

"I'll do whatever I can to help you," Mercurio said.

CHAPTER 30

Lamont and Ronnie had been sitting in the car for about ten minutes.

"Want to take a look around while we're waiting?" Lamont said.

Ronnie yawned. "Sounds like a plan. I need to stretch my legs."

They got out of the car.

"You see the pool when we came in?"

"Nope. It was on your side of the car," Ronnie said. "You want to go swimming?"

"Nah. I just want to check it out. It's down a flight of steps."

"Lead on," Ronnie said.

They walked around the corner of the villa to where the land fell steeply away from the building. A long flight of steps led down the side of a grassy slope to the pool. The pool was a narrow rectangle, long enough for an Olympic lap but only three lanes wide. The area around the pool was finished with gray granite tiles edged with flower beds. Beyond was a flat, grassy area bordering the side of a large hill covered with trees. There wasn't much else to see.

Lamont looked up at the steps they'd just come down.

"I make it ninety-eight," he said.

Ronnie shook his head. "Ninety-seven."

"I counted them."

"So did I. You counted wrong. There's ninety-seven."

"Ninety-eight. Ten bucks says ninety-eight."

"You're on."

"Now I'm gonna have to count them again just to prove I'm right. I'm looking forward to spending your money."

They started up toward the villa.

They were almost at the top when Ronnie dropped down and held up his hand. Lamont crouched down beside him. His voice was a whisper.

"What's up?"

"Trouble."

"What did you see?"

"Three men headed for the back of the house. Wearing dark clothes. Armed. They didn't look like the help to me."

"Shit. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah. Come on."

They moved silently up the steps and drew their pistols. With the Sig there was no external safety to remember. There was no need to risk the sound of working the slides, both had rounds chambered. The guns were ready to use. The sun had dropped out of sight behind the mountains. It was nearly dark.

A door stood open on the ground floor. There was no one in sight.

They moved to the back of the villa and the open door. Ronnie risked a quick look then stepped through, his pistol held in both hands in front of him.

They were in a large kitchen. Potatoes were scattered across the floor. A large man in a white apron and chef's jacket lay sprawled on his back, his throat a ragged, bloody gash that stretched from ear to ear. His white uniform was beginning to turn red as it soaked up blood from a small lake forming around him. His mouth was open, his eyes open and staring at a ceiling he couldn't see. Water boiled unheeded on the stove. An overturned box lay on the floor with more potatoes scattered around it.

On the other side of the kitchen, a swinging door led into the rest of the house. It was closed. They stepped over the corpse of the chef and stopped in front of it.

Ronnie's pulse was pounding. His voice was quiet.

"Ready?"

Lamont nodded.

The door opened onto a hall that went from the back of the house to the front entrance. The front door was open, the rented Alfa visible outside under the portico. The woman in the blue dress lay sprawled face down on the floor, motionless. There was blood on the tiles around her.

"Shit," Ronnie said under his breath.

"More than three," Lamont whispered. "She answered the door while the others came in the back."

Ronnie pointed upstairs.

The stairs were made of marble. Their rubber soled shoes made no noise as they climbed. The stair ended at a T. As they neared the top, they heard voices coming from the right. One of them was Nick's. One spoke with a heavy Middle Eastern accent.

Ronnie gestured.

On three. Me on the right side, you on the left.

Lamont nodded. Ronnie held up his fingers.

One. Two. Three.

They cleared the top of the stairs, moving fast, and turned into the hall leading to Mercurio's study. Two men stood there talking. They were speaking Arabic and looking toward the study. Ronnie and Lamont fired at the same time. Two quick shots each, and the men went down.

Inside the study, Nick and Selena stood near the balcony doors with their hands in the air, Mercurio between them. Three terrorists stood in front of them, their backs to the hall. All three had the empty look of men who had traded away their souls long ago. Nick saw Ronnie and Lamont come off the stairs.

The shots echoed in the room.

Nick knocked Mercurio to the floor, drew his pistol and shot the man on his right. He swung toward the one in the middle as Selena moved and fired at the one on the left. She hit him as he pulled the trigger. His rifle was set on full auto. A stream of bullets burned by her, shattering the tall French doors leading onto the balcony and showering glass on the prone figure of Mercurio.

Four more shots came from the hall. The third terrorist arched over backward. As he went down his finger spasmed on the trigger, stitching holes in the 18th-century plaster ceiling. A large chandelier came crashing down on the rugs.

Lamont and Ronnie ran into the room. White dust drifted down from the shattered ceiling.

"What took you guys so long?" Nick said.

"We were thinking of going for a swim," Lamont said.

Mercurio got to his knees. Nick helped him up.

"Are you all right, Count? Sorry I had to do that."

Mercurio was shaken. "Yes, fine. I need to sit down."

Selena picked up the half-empty bottle of wine and poured a glass. Nick thought she was going to hand it to Mercurio but she downed it.

Mercurio sat on the couch. Selena poured another glass and gave it to him. The bottle was empty.

"We need another one of these," she said.

"Maria will bring it," Mercurio said.

"She can't," Ronnie said. "They killed her. They killed the cook, too."

Mercurio put his head in his hands.

"Well." Nick reloaded and put the pistol back in his holster. "This is a hell of a mess."

Lamont began going through the pockets of the dead men. He came up with a passport.

"This guy has a passport from Belgium. It says he lives in Brussels."

"Not anymore," Ronnie said.

Mercurio looked up. "I must call the police."

"No, don't do that," Nick said. "We'll handle it."

"But… "

Selena touched Mercurio on the shoulder.

"It's better this way, Count. Let him handle it."

Nick's satellite phone was programmed with encryption that was a cut above what the Pentagon used. No one was going to intercept whatever he said on that phone. He called Elizabeth Harker.

"Yes, Nick."

"We ran into a little trouble, Director. I need a cleanup squad."

In Virginia, Elizabeth sighed and put Nick's call on speaker so Stephanie could listen in.

"Someday I'm going to send you out on a mission and you're going to call and tell me everything went smooth as silk."

"Not today."

"Where are you?"

"In Mercurio's Villa, outside Milan."

"What happened?"

"Five Jihadis showed up, probably ISIS. They killed the cook and Mercurio's housekeeper. He's pretty shaken up."

"All dead?"

"Right about now they're finding out paradise isn't where they ended up."

"Are the police there?"

"No. Mercurio wanted to call them but I told him I'd handle it. We're way out in the country and everything happened inside the house. No one could have heard the noise."

"That's one piece of good news. I'll get a crew out to you. They'll be coming from Rome. You can expect them later in the day."

"I can think of worse places to kill a little time," Nick said.

Elizabeth tapped her fingers on her desk. Stephanie sat near by, listening to the conversation.

"One thing about your phone calls, Nick. You always have something interesting to say. Is Mercurio all right?"

"He's shaken up but he's tough. They killed people he cared about. That's upset him more than anything else."

"Did you learn anything about the Grail?"

"That's what Allah's little martyrs wanted to know. Yes, but we still don't have a clue where it is."

Nick told her about the document Mercurio had shown to them.

"It's a lock Theodosius gave the Grail to the priest to keep it safe. He took it to Turkey. But where it went after that, I don't know."

Stephanie said, "What if the two tiles are a code? Something to tell the right person where the Grail was taken?"

"Like a just man?" Nick said.

"Or woman." Steph scratched the end of her nose. "I’ll work on it and see what I come up with."

"Nick, stay with Mercurio for now," Elizabeth said. "These people never seem to give up and he needs protection."

"Copy that, Director."

Elizabeth ended the call.

"Never a dull moment with them," she said to Stephanie.

"I've been thinking about those tiles," Stephanie said. "Most people would look at them and just see a matching pair. Something to decorate the wall or whatever."

"What's your idea?"

"If we look at the tiles as though the images have a hidden meaning, some things stand out."

"Like?"

"Like the fact that the two religious figures are similar but different. One's a priest and one is a monk. But when did you ever see a monk carrying a staff like that? There are other similarities. The rays of light coming from the cup Anastasius has in his hand and the rays of light coming from above the monk. The fact that both figures seem to have light around them, like a halo."

"Go on."

"All that tells us we're dealing with a spiritual scene or message of some sort. Then both figures are pointing at something. That's not an accident. Anastasius points his index finger toward the ground. The other figure is holding the staff with his index finger pointing toward heaven."

"So?"

"I think it's a visual reference to the Latin phrase on the second tile: 'as below, so above.' That's the opposite of the way it's usually written. If it reads 'as above, so below' it's meant to make you think about your relationship to spirit and God. Why write it differently? I think it means that what happens down here affects what happens up there. That would fit with the prophecy in the book of Simon."

"Up there?"

Stephanie pointed at the ceiling. "Up in heaven."

"What else do you see?"

"The keys. Both figures have keys. They could be the keys to heaven, the keys to life, there are a lot of possibilities. You see the symbol of keys a lot in Christianity."

"Doesn't the Pope have keys?"

"His insignia features crossed keys of gold and silver, symbolizing the power to bind or loosen."

"I've never been very good at interpreting religious symbols," Elizabeth said. "There seem to be so many of them."

"The staff the monk carries must be another. It's very distinctive. I've never seen anything like that before. Sometimes you see a picture of a monk with a staff, but it's always something simple like a shepherd's crook or just a big stick. I believe the tiles are meant to send a message that Anastasius handed off the Grail to someone else."

"The question is, who did he give it to?"

"Oh, we know that," Stephanie said. "The monk with the staff."

"Okay, but we don't know who he is."

"Not yet," Stephanie said, "but we will."

* * *

Halfway around the world from Virginia, Haddad listened to Asif Nawabi's report on the failed mission to Italy.

"You sent experienced men?"

"Some of our best. They were veterans, good men. It would not have been easy to defeat them."

"You are watching the Americans?"

"They are still in Milan."

"They will continue to search for the relic of their false God. Next time, you personally will go after them. Assemble a team. Make sure they are reliable men."

"Easy enough to put together the men I need," Nawabi said, "but not so easy to follow the Americans when they leave Italy."

"Perhaps. It depends on where they go. If they go back to America, it means they have decided to give up the search. Anywhere else, we can find them."

CHAPTER 31

Stephanie came into Elizabeth's office and sat down on a chair near the desk.

"Why don't you sit on the couch?" Elizabeth said. "It's more comfortable."

"Not anymore," Stephanie said. "Not until the baby gets here. It's too hard to climb out of it."

"You look as though you've discovered something."

"That monk on the tile they found in Greece? He's a Syriac Orthodox monk."

"Syriac? From Syria?"

"He might be from Syria but that's not what Syriac means. It's a branch of Christianity. They claim to be the oldest Christian church in the world, beginning in 37 CE at Antioch. Their Patriarch is in Damascus."

"I've never heard of them."

"I'm convinced the two tiles together form a message about the Grail. Anastasius had it and gave it to the monk on the second tile."

"The Syriac monk."

"Yes. So looking for the Grail means looking for a Syriac Orthodox monastery."

"How did you identify the monk?"

"From the staff on the tile, with the two snakes and the diamond cross on the top. That's the symbol of the Syriac Orthodox Patriarchate. The Patriarch holds one as his staff of office, like the Pope's shepherd's crook."

"At least it narrows things down a little bit."

"More than a little," Stephanie said. "The Grail changed hands at the end of the fourth century. There was only one Syriac Orthodox monastery in the right timeframe, Mor Gabriel. It was founded not long after Anastasius left Italy for the monastery at Sumela. It's also in Turkey."

"It still exists?"

"It does."

"And you think the Grail was taken there."

"It's a logical assumption, if I'm right about the tiles."

"That's a big if."

"Yes. There's a problem, though."

"There's always a problem. What is it this time?"

"People have been murdering monks and nuns at Mor Gabriel for centuries. The Turks, the Assyrians, Tamerlane, the Kurds, it's one long history of persecution. Now the current government is after them."

"Why?"

"The Kurds and Turks killed thousands of Syriac Christians during World War I and the monastery has been lobbying for international condemnation of the murders as genocide. There's also a dispute over land the monks have owned since it was founded. Ankara is getting ready to take it over and kick the monks out."

"If the Grail is there, they'd find it."

"I'm not sure they would," Stephanie said. "The monks have hidden it this long. I can't see them leaving it where the Turks could get it."

"That makes sense if they know what's coming," Elizabeth said. "But if Ankara pulls a surprise raid, they might not have time to get it out of there. Assuming it's there in the first place."

"There's only one way to find out. You have to send the team to Turkey."

CHAPTER 32

Nick's phone signaled a call.

"It’s Harker," he said to the others. "Yes, Director."

"Stephanie turned up something. The figure on the second tile is a Syriac Orthodox monk."

"Syriac Orthodox? I've never heard of them."

Mercurio looked up when he heard the words.

Elizabeth continued. "Put me on speaker. I want all of you to hear it."

"Count Mercurio is in the room with us."

"It's all right if he hears what I say."

Nick activated the speaker. Elizabeth's voice sounded clear and far away.

"Steph and I think the Grail was handed off to the monk on the second tile. He's from a branch of Christianity called Syriac Orthodox. The only place you could find a Syriac monk back then was in Turkey, at a monastery called Mor Gabriel. There isn't any other place where he could have come from. It has to be Mor Gabriel. The monastery still exists. It's not far from the Syrian border and the city of Midyat."

"Does this mean we're going to Turkey?"

"As soon as everything is cleaned up where you are."

"How are we going in?"

"By way of Incirlik. You'll fly from Milan to the Air Force Base there. But I don't want the Turks to know what you're doing."

"They'll spot us as soon as we leave the base."

"You have to make sure that doesn't happen. I can get you off the base without going through control but after that it's up to you."

"And if we're recognized and stopped?"

"That's when you pull out your diplomatic passports and give them your story."

"Which is?"

"That the US government is concerned about the Kurdish independence movement."

"I thought we were supporting the Kurds because they're fighting ISIS."

"We are, but if you're questioned you have to sell the Turks on a different story. Tell them you’re on a covert fact-finding mission. Tell them the president is deeply concerned about the problems the Kurds are creating for our valued NATO ally."

"Some ally," Ronnie said.

Elizabeth said, "I happen to agree with you, but don't advertise that opinion once you're in country."

"Why are we supposed to be covert?" Nick asked.

"Because an official mission could be compromised by leaks. That's something any Turkish official can understand."

"We need some kind of documentation, something to back up the story."

"I already thought of that. It will be waiting for you at Incirlik."

"Do we have an excuse to go to the monastery?"

"Yes. Thousands of Syriac monks were massacred in Turkey during World War I. If you're questioned, say you been told to find evidence laying all blame on the Kurds and absolving the Turks of any part of the atrocities."

"Is that true? The Turks didn't do it?"

"They did it, all right, with help from the Kurds."

"That story is a little thin, Director."

"It's up to you to fatten it up. Better if you don't get stopped."

"I need intel about the monastery. Pictures, layout, internal plans, anything you can give me. If the Grail's there, the monks aren't going to hand it over because we asked. We're going to have to look for it."

"Steph will put what you need together. It will be in the packet you get at the base."

"You are all forgetting something," Mercurio said.

"Who's that?" Elizabeth asked.

"Count Mercurio," Nick said.

"What am I forgetting?" Elizabeth sounded annoyed.

"That you are looking for a sacred object unlike anything else in the world. You will not find it unless you are meant to."

"Are you suggesting that we give up looking?" Elizabeth said.

"Not at all. I have been searching for many years with no success. Perhaps I'm not meant to find it. Perhaps you are, I don't know. I'm only saying that if you do not pay attention to what the Grail means, it will never come into your possession."

"I'm not in the habit of considering myths when I'm planning a mission, Count."

Mercurio shook his head. "Are you so sure that it's a myth, Director? The recovery of the Grail could signal the beginning of a spiritual renaissance."

"Unfortunately, that would depend on one's personal religious belief."

"Perhaps."

"It's precisely because it is such a controversial object that it must not be recovered by ISIS. It's propaganda value is enormous, as valuable as an army."

"All the more reason to consider why it is so important," Mercurio said.

"I appreciate your opinion, Count, but I'm not King Arthur and this isn't the quest."

"I feel sorry for you, Director. Whether you like it or not, you are now part of a two thousand year old narrative."

"What narrative?"

"The search for redemption and the healing connection to God. But I suppose it doesn't really matter. If you are meant to find the Grail, your beliefs about it are irrelevant."

Nick looked at Selena and raised his eyebrows. People didn't talk to Elizabeth Harker like that. He interrupted before she said something she might regret later.

"Director, is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment. Make sure the Count signs a secrecy agreement. Make sure he understands the consequences if he decides to break it."

"Copy that, Director."

Elizabeth ended the call.

Selena said, "That was interesting."

CHAPTER 33

Lamont and Ronnie carried the bodies of the three dead terrorists out of Mercurio's study and dropped them in the hall next to the other two. Nick and Selena moved the bodies of Maria and the cook to a storage room and covered them with blankets taken from a spare bedroom.

By early evening, the cleaners hadn't arrived.

"Man, I need something to eat," Lamont said. "I'm going to rustle up something in the kitchen."

"I'll help," Selena said.

"We'll all help," Nick said.

"Let me show you where everything is," Mercurio said. "I'll choose wine for our meal. I have a rather exceptional cellar."

"Do you have a nice Barolo, by any chance?" Selena asked.

Mercurio's face broke into a broad smile.

"One you will remember for the rest of your life," Mercurio said, "a 1958 Giacomo Borgogno, an astounding vintage. I have several bottles. It will be a pleasure to share it with you."

Ronnie mopped up the Chef’s blood. Then everyone got busy doing something to make the meal. Lamont and Ronnie chopped vegetables. Nick put on a large pot to boil for pasta. Selena began assembling a salad in a large wooden bowl. The bowl was dark and gleaming from years of careful used and conditioning. No one had ever spoiled it with soap. Making a meal provided an illusion of normality in what had been anything but a normal day.

They sat down at the kitchen table to eat. The wine was everything Mercurio had said it was and more. One sip set the body glowing, as if the sun had come out from behind dark clouds. It was that kind of wine. The count entertained them with stories of Italian politicians who had made fools of themselves in one way or another and stories of his childhood and his grandfather, the patriarch who had started the olive oil business.

They had just finished when the cleanup crew arrived in two white vans. There were eight of them. The leader had a brief conversation with Nick and they set to work. Three hours later, there was no sign of the terrorist attack. The holes in the wall and ceiling from the bullets had disappeared. The chandelier was back where it belonged. The bodies and blood traces were gone. The broken windows in Mercurio's study had been repaired.

Mercurio stood at the entrance with Nick and watched the vans pull away. He looked around.

"Amazing," he said. "You'd never know anything had happened."

"That's the idea, Count."

"It's clear this isn't the first time you've used the services of men like those. Don't you get tired of dealing with this sort of mayhem?"

"It's all part of the job. But, yes, I do get tired of it."

"Then why do you continue?"

"I've been asking myself that a lot, recently. It's pretty simple. There are evil people in the world who will do anything to get what they want. Some do it with money and politics. Others do it with bombs and guns. Someone has to stop them and that's where I come in."

"Do you think any of it makes a difference in the long run?"

"I don't know about the long run, Count. I deal with situations in the present. Does it make a difference? The day I stop believing it does is the day I'll quit."

"That's a fair answer," Mercurio said. "By the way, thank you for what you did today."

"You're welcome."

"It's getting late. Let me show you where you and the others can sleep."

Mercurio took them upstairs. Lamont and Ronnie had separate rooms overlooking the front of the house. Nick and Selena's room looked out over the villa gardens. It had glass doors that opened onto a wide balcony. The bed was a queen sized four poster with a brocaded canopy. A private bath completed the suite.

"If the olive business ever goes bust, he can always turn this place into a hotel," Nick said.

"It is something like a boutique hotel," Selena said. "That bed looks comfortable."

"I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said.

Later, after they'd made love, Nick looked up at the canopy overhead and thought about how close they'd come to dying earlier. He fell asleep. He dreamed.

He's in Afghanistan again, the rotors echoing from the valley walls, the monotonous sound of approaching death. There’s the village where he almost died, a shitty, dust-blown cluster of flat-roofed buildings surrounded by sharp, brown hills. A potholed dirt track runs through the cluster of hovels.

He drops from the chopper and hits the street running, M4 up by his cheek, his Marines behind him. They're looking for a Taliban mullah who's making trouble. He comes to the market, a mix of cobbled together bins with cloth walls. Flies swarm around the butcher’s stall.

He stays away from the walls. Somewhere a baby cries. There's no one in the street..

Bearded figures on the rooftops open up with AKs. The market stalls shatter in a storm of splinters and rock exploding from the sides of the buildings.

A child runs toward him with a grenade and he hesitates too long. The boy throws as he fires a three round burst. The child's head vanishes in a burst of blood and bone and brain. The grenade drifts toward him in slow motion and explodes…

The dream changes. Before, he's always come awake when the grenade explodes but this time he finds himself standing before a building he's never seen before. It's a very large building of stone, old. There are galleries with windows and arches, long stone balustrades and open spaces, stairways and doors. Narrow bell towers topped with odd looking crosses soar into a dark sky.

A deep voice booms in his mind.

"PAY ATTENTION!"

He woke shouting.

"Nick, it's alright."

Selena was standing by the bed a little distance away.

"It's just a dream. You're all right."

Nick sat up. He was slick with sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs.

"What are you doing over there?"

"You were thrashing around, the way you did when we first met. I didn't want to get in your way. Were you dreaming about Afghanistan again?"

He rubbed his eyes and swung his feet over the side of the bed.

"Yeah, it was the same old dream. Except this time it was different."

"How?"

Nick told her about the building and the voice.

"What do you think it means?" she said.

"I don't know that it means anything. I've never seen that building before. It looked real, like I was standing in front of it. Then I heard the voice. That's what woke me up."

"You haven't had that dream for a while. It must've been because of what happened today."

"I was thinking about today before I fell asleep," Nick said. "That was close, too close. I wasn't expecting it, and that worries me."

"You think you should have anticipated it?"

"Yes, I should have. I let my guard down. It was a mistake."

"You're human, Nick. You're allowed to make mistakes."

"Not when it can get us killed. We knew ISIS might follow up on Bergstrom."

"But we weren't killed. That's why we're a team. We protect each other."

"That's right," Nick said. "But Ronnie and Lamont won't always be around to save our ass."

"I have an idea," Selena said.

"I'm listening."

"Let's go down to the kitchen and finish that second bottle of wine."

CHAPTER 34

The base at Incirlik hadn't changed much since the last time they'd been there. They were met by a man in civilian clothes who introduced himself by his last name, Monell. His eyes were hidden behind old-style aviator sunglasses. He led them to a blue Chevy suburban parked nearby.

Lamont looked around the base as they drove away from the hangers. "Seems kind of busy."

Monell nodded. "It's the war in Syria. They're flying missions all the time."

"Any problems with the Russians?" Nick asked.

"Every day. Most of it doesn't make the press, but there are always incidents. Some hotshot pilot in an SU-35 will come too close. It's only a question of time before something happens. When it does, all bets are off."

"That's an encouraging thought," Selena said, "that some jet jockey just out of adolescence could touch off World War III."

"Let me guess," Nick said. "Langley sent you."

"I work for the DNCS Monroe," Monell said. "I'm supposed to give this to you."

He handed Nick a package. Lucas Monroe was Stephanie's husband and Director of National Clandestine Services at Langley, responsible for CIA's operations in the field.

"He had good things to say about you," Monell said.

"The feeling is mutual."

Nick opened the package. It contained satellite shots, a detailed roadmap of Turkey, plans and photographs of the monastery. Nick took out one of the pictures and looked at it.

"I don't believe this," he said.

Selena looked at him. "Believe what?"

"See this picture of the monastery? That's the building I saw in my dream last night."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was."

"How could you dream about a building you've never seen?"

"How the hell do I know? Why does my ear itch when the shit is about to hit the fan?"

Monell started to say something and changed his mind.

"What dream?" Ronnie asked.

"I had a dream last night that I was standing in front of the building in this photograph."

He handed the picture to Ronnie.

"That's the monastery?"

"Yep."

"Where I come from, dreams are important. My auntie used to say Spider Woman sends dreams to help us understand something."

"Who's Spider Woman?"

"She's one of our most important benefactors," Ronnie said. "She taught the People how to weave and grow our food. What else was in the dream?"

"There was a voice."

"A voice? What did it say?"

"Pay attention."

"Pay attention? That's all?"

"Yeah. Scared the hell out of me. It was a deep, booming voice, the kind of voice you can't ignore."

"Cool," Lamont said.

"You wouldn't say that if it had been talking to you," Nick said.

"I had a cousin that used to have dreams like that," Monell said.

"You did?"

"Not a lot of dreams, but once in a while this voice would pop up and say something. It was always something important. He had one of those just before he died."

"What happened to him?"

"Well, we'd been planning this trip to the Grand Canyon for a long time. We were getting ready to leave but something turned up and I couldn't make it. The night before he left, he had one of those dreams. The voice told him not to go alone, to stay home. When he told me about it, he laughed it off. The last thing he was going to do was cancel the trip of a lifetime."

"So what happened?"

"He was hiking a secondary trail that leads down from the rim to the bottom of the canyon. It's not used much. He slipped and that was all she wrote."

"He should have listened to his dream," Ronnie said.

"Yeah. I guess so."

Monell didn't say anything after that. They got into the suburban. He drove them to a hangar and stopped by a blue Toyota Highlander with Turkish plates.

"Here's your ride. I'm told it's in pretty good shape. Do any of you speak Turkish?"

"I do," Selena said, "enough to get by."

"You know about baksheesh?"

"Of course."

"Bribes go a long way here," Monell said. "You're going to leave the base by one of our lesser exits. There are guards posted there but it's been taken care of."

He took out a fat envelope and handed it to Nick. It was full of Turkish Lira.

"You'll need this. One lira is worth a little over thirty cents. Thirty-four, the last time I looked." He glanced at his watch. "Time for you to leave. Once you're off the base, you're on your own."

"How about coming back?"

"No problem there. Go to the main gate. You'll be on the list."

They got into the Highlander. Monell led them to the gate in his suburban.

"Keep your eyes open," he said. "There are a lot of angry assholes out there and some of them don't like Americans much."

"We're used to it," Lamont said.

Monell got into his Chevy and headed back onto the base. They stopped at the gate for a brief conversation with the guards and drove away. One of the guards went back into his shack, took out a cell phone and began talking.

In Raqqa, Abdul Haddad had just returned from a public execution, the stoning of a woman accused of adultery. It was important that the leaders of the movement demonstrate support for the rules laid down by the Messenger. Haddad had cast the first stone.

Haddad's intelligence network had been damaged by efforts to destroy the caliphate but it was still effective and widespread. Now one of his agents called him on the encrypted phone.

"Yes."

Haddad listened and asked a question. He ended the conversation as Nawabi came into his office.

"The Americans are in Turkey," Haddad said. "They were seen at the airbase at Incirlik."

"Are they still there?"

"No, but they're being followed. They went east. The relic must still be in Turkey."

"It can't be at Sumela," Nawabi said. "We searched thoroughly."

"Take your men into Turkey and catch up with them. If they find the cup, take it and kill them. If they don't, kill them anyway."

Map of Turkey Provided by the Central Intelligence Agency

CHAPTER 35

From Incirlik they got onto a highway marked E90 and headed east. The road was in good condition. Selena looks at the map and checked her GPS while Nick drove.

"From Incirlik to Mor Gabriel is about four hundred miles. The roads look good. It shouldn't take more than seven or eight hours, but the monastery will be closed by the time we get there. We can stop in Midyat overnight. That's nearby."

"Wake me when it's time for lunch," Lamont said.

He settled back against the seat and pulled a cap down over his eyes. In a minute he was asleep. It was something you learned in the service, how to sleep anywhere, anytime you could.

Ronnie sat watching the Turkish countryside slide by. They pass through villages but mostly it was farmland dominated by fields of wheat, now in winter mode. Groves of fruit or nut trees broke up the flat monotony of the fields. Turkey wasn't quite a Third World country but it wasn't Kansas either. This was an ancient land, farmed for thousands of years. Every town they passed featured the tall, needle shaped tower of at least one mosque.

"Those towers look like missiles," Ronnie said. "Where that guy does his thing five times a day."

"The muezzein," Selena said.

"Yeah, him. Hey, Nick, I've been thinking about that dream."

"What about it?"

"When you hear a voice like that? It's a good idea to pay attention to it."

"Very funny, Ronnie."

"No, I'm serious. The question is, what are you supposed to pay attention to?"

"I haven't a clue."

Selena said, "That's what Count Mercurio said to Elizabeth: 'pay attention.' He was talking about why the Grail is important."

"It's important because ISIS can make trouble if they get their hands on it," Nick said.

"Do you really think that's the only reason? What about the legends? The Grail is a sacred object. It symbolizes healing through Spirit and the mystery of Christianity."

"Mmm."

"What about that manuscript we found, the Book of Simon?"

"It could be fake, something made up to attract pilgrims. I know you think it's real but it hasn't been tested to verify the age."

"Don't you feel any excitement about it at all?"

"Some. I never thought I'd be looking for the Grail for real. I read all the King Arthur stories when I was a kid."

"You were a kid?" Ronnie asked. "I thought you hatched out of an egg at Quantico."

Nick ignored him. "I used to imagine wearing shining armor and carrying a magic sword like Excalibur. I wanted to be Galahad, fighting monsters and seeking the cup that would heal the King."

"And the land," Selena said. "Remember? The land was blighted and dying. Arthur was wounded in the groin and the only thing that could heal him and the land was the Grail."

"Lots of symbolism there," Lamont said. "Sounds almost X-rated."

"Sex always makes for a good hook in a story," Ronnie said. "Don't forget Guinevere and Lancelot."

"Sex, betrayal, revenge and heroic deeds," Nick said, "not to mention Excalibur and the Lady of the Lake. It's a soap opera."

"Everything revolves around the Grail," Selena said. "Without the Grail, there's nothing to hold the story together. I think that's what you're supposed to pay attention to."

"The Grail? I thought that's what I was doing. Why we're here."

"I don't mean the physical cup. It's what it symbolizes that's important."

"Redemption?"

"And healing. Just like in the myth."

Halfway through the drive, Nick handed the wheel over to Ronnie. He moved to the back and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the tires on the road and the drone of the engine. He fell asleep and hoped he wouldn't dream.

CHAPTER 36

It was dark when they reached Midyat. The monastery was about a half hour away. Selena used the GPS to guide them to a hotel, where Nick reserved rooms for two nights. Maybe they'd go back to Incirlik tomorrow, maybe not.

Nick's dreams were filled with dark shadows and flashes of light. The next morning they had breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

Selena looked at the menu. It was in Turkish.

"Shall I order for all of us?"

"Go for it. Just so long as it tastes good and it's hot," Lamont said.

"Coffee," Nick said.

Selena surprised the waiter when she ordered in Turkish. Soon after, a steaming pot of black coffee appeared. Not long after that the waiter brought a large tray with several platters and a basket heaped with bread.

Ronnie looked down at a round metal dish in front of him. Steam drifted from the surface.

"What's this?"

"Menemem," Selena said. "It's a combination of eggs, tomatoes, spices and peppers. Probably has some onions, garlic and oregano. It's a common dish here for breakfast. Try it."

Ronnie tasted it. "Not bad. Like an omelette. Or a pizza without the crust."

"How can you have pizza without crust?" Lamont said.

"I didn't say it was a pizza, I said it was like a pizza, only without the crust."

"There's no pepperoni either."

"Pizzas don't always have pepperoni."

"Mine do. Better that way."

After that conversation the table was quiet except for the sounds of eating. By the time they left the hotel it had started to rain, a cold drizzle falling from a featureless, gray sky.

They got into the Toyota. Nick started the car and turned on the heater.

"What's the plan?" Ronnie asked.

"First we get gas. I saw a station last night, when we came in. Then we head to the monastery."

"And?"

Nick pulled out of the parking lot.

"I don't have a specific plan. We have to take it one step at a time. They give tours. We'll do a little recon first. I'm hoping something will give us an opening to ask about the Grail."

"You expect them to tell you they've got it?"

"Not at first. We're going to have to convince them that the secret is out and the bad guys are coming after it."

"How will they know we're not the bad guys?" Lamont asked.

"Selena will handle it," Nick said.

"I will?"

"You speak the language. You know the history. You're our best bet."

"What am I supposed to tell them?"

"You'll think of something."

"Even if the Grail was here, it could have been stolen or lost or moved."

"You can ask them about it. After you convince them we're on the side of the angels."

CHAPTER 37

The monastery was a sprawling complex of stone buildings on a high plateau. From the highway they followed a drive lined with trees to a large, paved parking lot. There were a dozen cars in the lot, including a black Mercedes with a uniformed driver waiting inside the car. He glanced over at them and went back to reading a newspaper.

The rain had stopped. They got out of the car and walked toward a set of broad, stone steps leading up to the entrance. Two tall bell towers topped with the Syriac cross rose over the buildings. Everything was made of sand-colored stone, perfectly cut and fitted. The motif of the diamond cross was everywhere you looked, set on balustrades as finials and carved into the walls.

"This is something," Lamont said. "Place looks like a fortress. That's a hell of a lot of stone."

"The monastery has been here for more than sixteen hundred years," Selena said. "They've had a lot of time to work on it."

"Let's see if anyone's home," Nick said.

They climbed past two crosses flanking the steps and stepped onto a flat stone terrace in front of the entrance. The door opened as they approached. A monk waited to greet them.

A full beard streaked with gray reached halfway down his chest. He wore a robe of midnight blue that was almost black, with a tight hood that covered his hair. It was bordered with white and divided in the middle by a white line. The top of the hood bore a lighter field of blue stitched with a dozen white Syriac crosses.

Nick guessed his age at around sixty. His face appeared relaxed. He looked as though he spent a lot of time smiling. He was shorter than Nick, about Ronnie's height.

The monk stood to the side and gestured for them to come in.

"Welcome," he said. "I'm Brother Jacob. Please, enter. Your friend is waiting for you."

"What friend?" Nick asked.

"This way," the monk said.

He led them down a long arched colonnade and through three arched doorways. As they moved deeper into the complex, the look of the passage changed. They were coming to the oldest part of the monastery, part of the original building.

They entered a chapel with an elaborate altar set in an alcove at one end. The wall behind the altar was decorated with a mosaic design of the Syriac cross. Mosaic grapevines bearing clusters of grapes climbed the edges of the alcove.

Count Mercurio was waiting for them.

"Hello, Mister Carter."

"What are you doing here, Count?"

"The same as you, looking for the Grail."

"Count Mercurio has been telling me about your quest," Brother Jacob said. "It is most admirable, but I am sorry to disappoint you. What you are looking for is not here."

"I mean no disrespect, Brother, but it's a little hard for me to just take your word for it. We know the Grail was brought here after it left Italy."

"Yes, your friend has explained it to me. The tiles told a true story. The monk on the tile was Brother Gabriel. He was one of the first to live here, one of the builders. It was wonderful for me to see a picture of him."

"Then the Grail was here? You admit it?"

"We have nothing to hide. If it were still here perhaps I would not be so forthcoming with you, but it was taken to Rhodes centuries ago."

"Rhodes? Why Rhodes?"

"Are you familiar with the history of our monastery?"

"No."

"There is a long history of conflict here with Islam."

"That figures," Ronnie said.

The monk continued. "Have you heard of Tamerlane?"

"The last Mongol conqueror," Selena said. "He wanted to re-create the Empire of Genghis Khan."

"That is the man," Jacob said. "Timur the Lame. He called himself the 'Sword of Islam.' In 1401 he attacked this monastery. The remains of the monks he murdered are buried in caves below the chapel floor where we stand."

"What does that have to do with the Grail?" Nick asked.

"My predecessors knew what was likely to happen. It was decided to move the Grail to a place of safety. It was taken to Rhodes and placed under the protection of the Knights Hospitallers."

"So your order is no longer responsible for its protection?"

"That is correct."

Up until now Mercurio had been silent, listening to the conversation. Now he interrupted.

"Sulemein the Magnificent attacked Rhodes in the sixteenth century and defeated the Knights Hospitallers. This isn't good news, Brother Jacob."

"Were they all killed?" Lamont said.

"The survivors were allowed to leave. They went to Sicily. After that, to Malta."

"The Knights would never allow the Grail to fall into the hands of Sulemein," Selena said. "They would have taken it with them."

"If they took it with them, it would have been on Malta when Sulemein laid siege to the island," Mercurio said. "He was trying to gain control of the Mediterranean. Malta was a key strategic location."

"Who won that one?" Ronnie asked.

"The Hospitallers. It's one of the great victories against Islam," Mercurio said. "At the time it must have seemed hopeless. Sulemein had overwhelming superiority of numbers."

"Then the Grail could be on Malta," Nick said.

"Unless it was moved again," Selena said.

"It's enough to give you a headache," Nick said.

"You didn't think finding the Grail was going to be easy, did you?" Mercurio asked.

CHAPTER 38

One of Haddad’s men had been reporting back to him. Haddad had many hidden cells in Turkey. One of them was in Osmaniye, on the road to Mor Gabriel, led by a man named Kamal. Haddad instructed him to intercept and follow the Americans.

Kamal had a good description of the car Nick and the others were using. Four foreigners in a blue Toyota were hard to miss. He spotted them as they came through the outskirts of the city.

Asif Nawabi caught up with the cell in Midyat. There were three men, all dedicated to the caliphate and the strict interpretation of the Prophet's teachings.

Kamal was the oldest. His family had been killed during the battle for Falluja. The death of his wife and four children under the bombs of the Americans had added fuel to a fire of hatred for the West that had been burning long before the invasion.

Omar saw from one eye. The other had been sacrificed to Assad's artillery in Syria. He was a truly ugly man, singularly unattractive to women, but ISIS had changed that. Women were forced to satisfy the needs of the fighters for the caliphate. His new wife was mostly satisfactory. He'd only had to beat her a few times to make her understand. He was grateful for having been given a place in society. The caliphate valued rage and Omar was considered a prized asset.

Rafa was barely out of adolescence. His name meant "happy" in Arabic, but happiness was something he'd never known. The closest thing to it was his feeling of pride and purpose when he saw the black flag of ISIS flying in the desert wind. Happiness would come in paradise. For now, doing the will of Allah was enough. No one questioned Rafa's courage or dedication, but he was young and inexperienced. He tended to act on impulse, without thought. Kamal thought that one day it would get him killed.

They'd followed the Americans to the monastery. Now Nawabi stood with the others in the passage outside the chapel where Nick was talking with Brother Jacob. Each was armed with an AK-47, as familiar to each man as his name. Nawabi gestured with his hand and they stepped into the chapel.

The Americans and a monk and an older man were at the other end of the room, near the altar. Between them and Nawabi were a dozen rows of wooden pews.

Nick saw them enter and yelled a warning. He reached for his pistol.

Rafa raised his rifle.

"Wait," Kamal said, too late.

"No," Mercurio shouted.

He stepped in front of Selena just as Rafa fired. The bullets hurled him to the side. Blood spattered over Selena. She drew her pistol and shot Rafa and ducked behind a pew. Bullets streaked over her head, shattering the stone cross on the altar.

Brother Jacob stood frozen in shock until a burst from Nawabi sent him stumbling sideways. The monk grabbed at the heavy cloth on the altar, pulling it with him as he fell. Everything on the altar crashed to the floor. The patterned cloth drifted down over his face and covered him.

Ronnie and Lamont and Nick and Selena fired from behind the cover of the heavy pews, outgunned. Rounds from the ISIS guns slammed into the thick wooden pews. The air filled with flying splinters, sharp as darts. The chapel echoed with the roar of the guns and the whine of ricochets from the stone walls. A haze of burnt powder began to fill the room.

Omar staggered as a half-dozen .40 caliber hollow points hit him. He spun and fell, firing wildly as he went down. Selena's last round took Kamal in the throat. Her slide locked open. Only Nawabi was left. Nick slammed in another magazine.

"Allahhu Akbar! Allahhu Akbar! "

Nawabi ran toward the front of the chapel, his mind crazed by rage, firing as he came. Nick leaned around the end of the pew and shot him four times. Nawabi took two steps forward. Blood spewed from his mouth. He collapsed, his rifle clattering across the floor.

The sudden silence was heavy as a stone.

Mercurio lay on his back near the altar. He'd taken two rounds, one on the right side of his chest and one through the center of his gut. His face was white with pain. Blood dribbled from his mouth. Selena knelt over him, pressing her hands on his wounds. Blood welled up between her fingers.

"I… can't feel… my legs… "

"Sshh, don't try to talk," Selena said.

Nick came over.

"How is he?"

She looked up and shook her head. Then she turned back to Mercurio.

"You saved my life," she said.

"You must… find it," Mercurio said. "All my life… "

His voice trailed off and his eyes opened wide as though he were looking at something. He smiled.

"Oh," he said. "I see it. I see… "

Then he died.

Selena stood.

"He's gone."

"So is Brother Jacob," Nick said.

Ronnie and Lamont were checking the bodies at the other end of the chapel. Lamont had a ragged gash on his cheek where a splinter had ripped into it.

"They're all dead," he said.

"Good riddance." Nick holstered his pistol. "How the hell did they know we were here?"

Lamont moved over to Nawabi's body and began going through his pockets. He held up a cell phone.

"Might be something on this to tell us."

"We'll let Stephanie look at it."

"Better call Harker," Ronnie said.

CHAPTER 39

Elizabeth was reading an intelligence brief on dissident activity in Russia when Nick called.

"Director, we ran into trouble."

"What happened?"

"We were at the monastery. ISIS showed up and everything went bad from there. They have four new martyrs but one of the Syriac monks is dead. So is Count Mercurio."

"Mercurio? What was he doing there?"

"Same thing we were. Chasing down the Grail."

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Lamont has a splinter wound but that's it. We were lucky."

"A splinter wound?"

"From a wooden pew. We were in a chapel. They had AKs."

"Are the police there yet?"

"No."

"Was the Grail there?"

"No."

"Can you get back to Incirlik?"

"I don't think there's time. People will have noticed our car and someone will put it together. Every cop in Turkey is going to be looking for us."

Elizabeth's fingers sped across her keyboard. A live satellite view of the monastery appeared on the wall monitor. She could see Nick's blue Toyota in the parking lot.

"Leave now and start driving back toward the base. I'll task a helicopter to pick you up, but it will take time to reach you. I have a visual of the monastery and I can see your car. I'll track your GPS."

"Copy that, Director."

"If you get stopped, stall them. Do not engage in any hostile action with Turkish forces, understood?"

"They may not give us a choice."

"I mean it, Nick. Turkey is still technically an ally. You shoot a cop and I've got an international incident to explain to the president."

"I'll do my best, Director. But they start shooting at us, we're going to shoot back."

"Nick… "

Stephanie came into the room as Nick broke the connection.

"What's up?"

"Trouble. ISIS followed the team to Mor Gabriel and they got into a firefight. Count Mercurio is dead and so is one of the Syriac monks."

"Mercurio? What was he doing there?"

"That's what I said. He was looking for the Grail, what else?"

"Did Nick find it?"

"No."

"Maybe it's time to give this up," Stephanie said. "It feels like we're running after a myth."

"You may be right. Nick didn't say whether or not he found out anything else. If he didn't, we've reached a dead end."

Elizabeth made the call that would send a helicopter to pick up the team. On the monitor, the red dot of Nick's GPS moved away from the monastery.

"Unless they have new information, I'm bringing them home," Elizabeth said.

"Did King Arthur's Knights ever find the Grail?" Stephanie asked.

"It depends on what version you're looking at. There's a movie by John Boorman called Excalibur, where Percival brings back the Grail and heals the King so he can go fight Mordred in the final battle. But I don't think anyone ever brought it back in the original stories. A few of Arthur's Knights saw it. That was a big deal."

"Didn't most of them die?"

"All except one, as I recall."

"Seems like it's worth your life to go looking for it."

"I never believed it existed," Elizabeth said. "I'm not sure I believe it now."

"What about that manuscript Selena found? The Book of Simon?"

"Even if it's real, that doesn't mean the cup has magical powers."

"That doesn't matter," Stephanie said. "What matters is what people believe. And if there really is a cup that caught Christ's blood, it's the most important Christian artifact in existence."

Elizabeth watched the GPS signal on the screen.

"It's important to Muslims, too. For them, it's a relic of one of their prophets. They believe Christ will come back and convert all the Christians to Islam. That's the signal for the Mahdi to appear. Then comes the Day of Retribution, what we call the Last Judgment."

"Convert the Christians to Islam? Good luck with that," Stephanie said.

CHAPTER 40

They'd been driving for several hours. Nick had been waiting to see flashing lights in his mirrors. They'd passed a large town called Viransehir. Now they were back in open country, all fields and orchards.

"I'm sorry about Mercurio," Selena said. "He was a good man. There aren't many of those left these days. At least we don't meet many of them."

"The people we tend to meet are anything but good," Nick said.

"How did those assholes find us?" Lamont asked.

Nick swerved to avoid a pothole.

"Good question. Someone in ISIS is good at what he's doing. A better question might be why do they keep showing up?"

"That's easy," Selena said. "They think we'll lead them to the Grail."

Ronnie sat next to Lamont in the back, behind Nick. "How did they get on to Mercurio in the first place?"

Selena turned in her seat to look at him. "Probably their contact in the Swedish police. I wonder if they caught him yet?"

She turned back and looked out at the flat, Anatolian plain passing by.

"What are we going to do next, Nick?"

"It depends on Harker. She'll probably send us to Malta."

"There's no proof it went to Malta."

"No, but there's a pattern here."

"What pattern?" Ronnie asked.

"Each time the Grail is about to fall into the wrong hands, it's moved somewhere else. Theodosius gave it to Anastasius as he was dying. Anastasius gave it to the monk at Mor Gabriel, so he must've been worried about its safety. Then it was handed over to the Hospitallers when the monastery was going to be overrun by the Mongols. The Hospitallers took it to Rhodes. Then Sulemein shows up with an overwhelming force."

"It's like trouble follows it," Lamont said.

"Right. If I were protecting the cup and I saw Sulemein coming, you can bet your ass I'd find a safer place for it. It makes sense it would be sent on to Malta. The Knights held out there, so they wouldn't need to move it again. If it's anywhere, it's likely to be hidden somewhere on the island. Malta is our best bet."

"What if we don't find anything there?"

"Then we're done."

They came around a sweeping curve. Straight ahead police blocked the road with two cars nose to nose across the highway, leaving only a narrow space between.

A policeman stepped out from the cars and held up his hand. He was armed with a pistol in a holster. Two more cops waited beside him with M-14s held at port arms. They looked unfriendly. Two others were stationed behind the cars, taking aim at the Toyota with their rifles.

Ronnie said. "We try to run that, we're toast."

"Get your diplomatic passports out," Nick said. "We'll try to bluff our way through."

He turned to Selena. "You do the talking."

He slowed the Toyota and stopped.

The cop with the pistol kept his hand on the butt of his gun and approached the car.

"What's the trouble, Officer?" Selena asked in Turkish.

"Passports," the cop said. He had a sergeant's stripes on his sleeve. He held out his hand.

"He wants to see our passports," Selena said.

"Give them to him."

They handed their passports to Selena. She gave them to the cop. The Turk looked at the passports.

"Get out," he said in English.

Selena switched to English. "We're on a special fact-finding mission for our government. You can see we have diplomatic immunity. "

The cop stepped back from the car and took out his pistol.

"Get out. Now."

"Do as he says," Nick said.

They got out of the car.

"Raise your hands."

As they put up their hands, the other cops closed in.

"We have immunity," Nick said. "This is harassment. You're making a mistake."

One of the policeman with an M-14 had come up beside the sergeant.

"Shut up," the cop said.

He swung his rifle, aiming the butt at Nick's head. Nick grabbed the rifle as it came around, pulled it from the man's hands and kicked his leg out from under him. As the cop fell, Nick leveled the rifle at the sergeant.

Safeties clicked off. Everyone stopped moving. Nick heard the sound of a helicopter approaching.

I hope that's ours.

"Listen up, Sergeant. You tell your men to fire and you'll be dead before the words are out of your mouth. You hear that helicopter? It's coming for us and there are Marines on board or I miss my guess. Even if you take us down, you won't live to talk about it. Put your pistol on the ground. Tell your men to lower their guns."

"You are murderers," the cop said. He was red in the face.

"ISIS are the murderers. Tell your men to put down their guns."

The helicopter came into sight, a Sikorsky Blackhawk painted in desert camouflage.

The Turkish policeman's eyes darted toward the helicopter and back towards the rifle pointed at him. Nick hoped the man wouldn't do anything stupid.

"Silahlarinizi indirin," the sergeant said in a loud voice. He bent and put his pistol on the ground. His men lowered their rifles and laid them down.

"What did he say?" Nick asked Selena. He kept his rifle leveled at the sergeant.

"He told them to put down their weapons."

The sound of the rotors grew loud as the Blackhawk settled on the road nearby. The wind from the blades whipped dust and bits of debris into the air. The compartment door slid open and a half dozen Marines in battle dress poured out, weapons at the ready. They deployed and aimed their rifles at the cops.

A tall, young Marine with lieutenant's insignia sewn on his collar walked over to Nick and saluted. His name tag read Williams.

"Major Carter?"

It was strange to hear the familiar title again.

"In person. Lieutenant, I'm glad to see you."

"Any trouble here, sir?"

He eyed the Turkish police.

"Not anymore." Nick set the rifle he'd taken from the cop down on the ground. "Let's go."

The Turkish police sergeant looked as though he was about to have a stroke. Nick and the others ducked under the whirling blades of the chopper and climbed aboard. The Marines followed, keeping the Turks covered. Williams was the last to board. They lifted away as he pulled the compartment door shut.

Below, Nick saw the Turkish sergeant shaking his fist at them.

CHAPTER 41

Swearing was Haram, forbidden.

Haddad took out his rage by throwing his cell phone against the wall. Nawabi, dead, along with three good fighters, and they were no closer to finding the relic of Isa. His trusted lieutenant was now in paradise, but Haddad would have preferred to see him alive and working for the victory of the caliphate.

All because of the accursed Americans. Surely Allah was testing him. Recovering the cup would bring in thousands of recruits and cause great distress among the infidels. It would show everyone that Allah was preparing the world for the coming of the Mahdi. It would strengthen the believers and reveal those whose faith was weak.

He would not give up. But what would the Americans do now? Had they learned anything at the monastery? Were they still looking for the cup? All he knew was that they had gone back to Incirlik. They'd been seen there, getting out of a helicopter. If they continued their search they would have to leave the base. Haddad had informants at Incirlik. Someone would discover where the Americans had gone.

One of Haddad's guards knocked on the open door of his temporary office, a room on the ground floor of a house in a crowded residential area of Raqqa. Haddad never stayed in one place for long. Hiding in the midst of women and children helped keep him alive. The Americans were uncomfortable about bombing civilians. It was one of their weaknesses. He had given up wearing the traditional robe he preferred for the garb of an average fighter to help confuse the American satellites. One fighter wasn't worth a strike.

"The bomb maker is here," the guard said.

"Which one? We have many."

"The one they call The Scorpion."

Jaffari. Is it time? Haddad thought.

"Send him in."

Rashid Jaffari placed his hand over his heart and greeted Haddad.

"Salaam Aleikum."

"As Aleikum Salaam. Welcome, brother."

"We can talk?"

"Yes. This room is protected."

"The bomb is ready."

Haddad's face broke into a huge smile. He clapped his hands together in excitement.

"This is wonderful news, my friend. I knew you could do it."

"When do I leave?"

"Once I am sure our arrangements in Turkey are secure. Prepare two vehicles and load the bomb into one of them. The other will serve as backup."

"I am ready whenever you say."

Haddad opened a drawer in his desk. He took out a map of Turkey and Syria and spread it out on the desktop. Jaffari came around the desk to look at it.

"You will cross the border here, at Ayn al Arab." Haddad tapped the map with his finger. "The crossing has been arranged. Travel at night to avoid the aircraft and drones patrolling the area. You will have the right papers and permissions when you are in Turkey. You have drivers who can speak Turkish?"

"I have the perfect men," Jaffari said. "They are brothers, from Istanbul."

"Good. After you cross the border, it is a straightforward drive to the Gulf of Iskenderun. Turn south until you come to a village called Iznik." He tapped the map again. "A fishing boat will be there to take you to a ship waiting offshore. Once on board, it will take about two weeks to reach America."

"What is the name of the ship?"

"She is under Greek registry. Her name is the Athena."

Haddad wrote the name on a piece of paper and offered it. Jafarri waved it away.

"I'll remember. What if we are stopped and searched before we reach our destination?"

Haddad put the paper in his pocket. "Be ready to detonate the bomb but, God willing, you will reach your target without trouble."

Haddad paused.

"Rashid, my brother. You know what this mission means. You will not return. Your name will be remembered forever."

Jaffari placed his hand over his heart and bowed.

"Insh’allah. I am only His instrument."

"If you are discovered once you arrive in America, detonate the bomb. It doesn't really matter where you are."

"What will happen, after?"

"The Americans will discover intelligence implicating the Shia apostates in Tehran. They will blame the Iranians and retaliate. War will begin. The Day of Retribution will be brought closer."

Jaffari smiled.

CHAPTER 42

Elizabeth was on the satellite link to Nick at Incirlik. She'd put the call on speaker. Stephanie sat nearby, listening. Nick briefed them on what had happened at the roadblock and what they'd learned at the monastery.

"There's already been a protest from the Turkish government," Elizabeth said. "President Rice is not happy."

"He'd be a lot less happy if those cops had opened fire," Nick said. "It's a good thing that Turkish sergeant had more brains than balls."

"You have a gift for words, Nick."

"Selena thinks ISIS is hoping we'll lead them to the Grail. I think she's right. They're following us, that's why they keep showing up. Someone smart is directing them. If we could figure out who that was and take him out, it would make things a lot simpler."

"There aren't many in ISIS with the authority to send these men after you. But pinning down who it is and where he is might be difficult."

"We recovered a phone at the monastery. Maybe there's something on it that will help."

"Give me a minute," Steph said. She entered commands on her keyboard. "Go ahead. I'm ready for transfer."

"Stand by."

They waited for Nick to connect the phone to his unit.

"Transferring now."

The contents of Nawabi's phone scrolled onto the wall monitor.

"Got it," Stephanie said.

"See anything offhand?"

"There are three calls to the same number, no text messages. I have to run it through the computers. I'll let you know if I find something."

"Good enough. Maybe we'll get lucky and can drop a missile on the son of a bitch."

"One can always hope," Steph said.

"Are you sending us to Malta, Director?" Nick asked.

"Not yet. There's not much point without knowing where to start. Stephanie is searching records from around the time of the siege of Malta."

"When was that?"

"1565 CE," Steph said. "The battle was the turning point in the struggle between the Christians and the Muslims for control of the Mediterranean. I've started looking but don't expect too much."

"You think it's a dead end?"

"It could be. To make it more complicated, the Knights didn't go to Malta right after they left Rhodes. There's a period of about eight years before they got there."

"Where were they in between?"

"They wandered around Europe. France and Italy, mostly. The Pope gave the Hospitallers holdings he'd seized from the Knights Templar."

"Great," Nick said. "Then the Grail could be anywhere in Europe. It might never have gone to Malta at all. The only thing we know for sure is that the Hospitallers had it on Rhodes before Sulemein defeated them."

"We can assume it's not on Rhodes anymore," Elizabeth said. "The Knights wouldn't have taken a chance on it being captured."

"Maybe it's time to call off the search," Nick said.

"Not yet. Let's see what Stephanie comes up with. In the meantime, stay on the base. I don't want to give the Turks any excuse for arresting you. They can't bother you there."

"Copy that."

"That's all for now, Nick."

Elizabeth ended the call.

Stephanie said, "He has a point, Elizabeth. About finding out which of those ISIS thugs is looking for the Grail."

"While you're looking for some indication of where the Knights might have taken the Grail, I'll look at current leadership of the caliphate. There are only a few key players at the top. We've managed to eliminate some of them but they're like cockroaches. You kill one and another takes its place."

"Do you think we'll ever be able to defeat them?"

"We can defeat the organization. I don't think we can defeat the ideology, at least in our lifetime."

"That sounds hopeless, Elizabeth."

"I don't mean it that way. But it's going to be a long time before the fanatics fade back into the woodwork. Until moderate Muslims take back their religion, we're at war."

"That's not a popular view."

"Realism never is," Elizabeth said.

"Most people don’t like realism, not when it comes to something they can’t control. They want to believe everything is okay."

"That’s the heart of the problem," Elizabeth said. "Everything isn't okay."

CHAPTER 43

Clarence Hood saw it was Elizabeth calling on his private line and felt his heart jump a beat. There was something about her that made him feel awkward, an unusual experience for one of the most powerful men in Washington. It had been a long time since he'd been attracted to someone the way he was to Elizabeth. That the attraction seemed mutual was surprising to him. Clarence Hood was not a man most people wanted to get close to.

"Elizabeth. I'm glad you called."

"Good morning, Clarence. This isn't a social call. Is there a chance we can meet today? It's about one of our mutual concerns."

Hood thought about his day and who he could put off or shuffle to a different slot.

"I'll make time. It's a little before ten now. Would eleven here be convenient?"

"Perfect," Elizabeth said. "I'll see you then."

I wonder what's on her mind?

Hood pushed the button that summoned his secretary. He preferred the old term to 'personal assistant.' Personal assistant conjured up images of someone who might help you up the stairs or lead you to the bathroom, if you required such services. Since his secretary was male, no one could accuse him of sexism, although he wasn't sure that was still true. It was hard to keep up with all the social changes taking place.

The secretary entered the room. "Yes, Director."

"Adrian, cancel my appointment with General Hutchins. Give him my apologies and reschedule him. Director Harker will be here instead."

"Yes, sir."

After his secretary left the room, Hood got up and went to an antique sideboard that had once belonged to Abraham Lincoln. He drew a mug of coffee from a shining silver urn and added cream. He'd given up on sugar some time ago.

He still had five minutes before his next appointment. Back at his desk, he sipped coffee and thought about Elizabeth. If she wanted a meeting, there must be some urgency to whatever it was she wanted to talk about. Otherwise it could've waited until this evening. They were having dinner together again at a Georgetown restaurant they both liked.

There were a lot of things they both liked. She was the only person he felt he could confide in. His position as DCI required a public façade of certainty and confidence, but with Elizabeth he didn't have to maintain that fiction. She understood the burden of his work, as he understood hers. She was perfectly suited to her job. He knew he'd have a difficult time doing what she did. It was one of the reasons he admired her.

At the stroke of eleven, Elizabeth came into his office. Hood rose to greet her.

"Thanks for making time," Elizabeth said. "I thought it would be better to talk in person rather than over the phone."

"At the risk of sounding like a cliché, I can always make time for you. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"I'd love one."

He poured the coffee and handed it to her. They sat down at a table near a row of windows facing out into Virginia.

"I want to talk about ISIS and what my team has been doing."

"I know about the incident in Turkey," Hood said.

"I assumed you would. They were following leads on the Grail that took them to the monastery. An ISIS team showed up and things went badly after that."

"The Turks seem to think that your people murdered a monk and several unidentified men."

"Yes, they would say that, wouldn't they? The country is slipping into the hands of the fundamentalists. By now, they know perfectly well who those men were. Of course they're not going to admit it."

"You sound angry, Elizabeth."

"I am angry. I'm tired of my team taking the blame for the incompetence of self-serving politicians. In this case, the so-called president of Turkey."

"He's a problem," Hood said. "We have nukes over there."

"We're going to have to pull them out," Elizabeth said. "The whole region is destabilizing." She took another sip of coffee. "We could talk about this for hours but that's not why I'm here. I need your help finding out who it is in ISIS that's after my team and the Grail."

"That might be difficult."

"It has to be a top-tier leader. There aren't that many of them. Al-Baghdadi is very careful about who he trusts. Whoever it is has followed my team ever since Sweden. He must have operatives at Incirlik or he couldn't have known where they went."

"A spymaster."

"Yes."

"ISIS has been getting better at gathering intelligence," Hood said. "It feels as though someone new has taken the reins. Before it was more random, it had more of a hit and miss kind of feeling to it. Now it's beginning to take on an aura of professionalism. Someone is responsible for that."

"That was my thought also," Elizabeth said. "If we could identify him, perhaps he could be eliminated."

"My, Elizabeth, you better hadn't let some of those senators who don't like you hear you say that."

"I'll never understand why we have to dance around the issue when a key terrorist figure has been identified. Nothing stops them from murdering as many people as they can. Why are we supposed to think twice about taking them out?"

"I can't answer that one," Hood said. "It doesn't make any sense to me."

"I was hoping you could try and find out who this person is. I'm doing the same but you have more resources than I do. Once we know who he is, something can be done to disrupt his operation. It will hurt ISIS, at least for a while. Plus it will get some of the heat off my team. Nick recovered a phone in Turkey with three calls on it."

She took out a piece of paper with the numbers written on it and gave it to him.

"I'll put Lucas on it."

"Sometimes I think the relationship between Langley and the Project is quite incestuous. As though we were literally in bed together."

As soon as she said it, Elizabeth blushed.

Hood laughed. "That was fun the other night, don't you think?"

"Yes it was," Elizabeth said. She smiled at him. "We should change the subject. Have you learned anything more about that bomb ISIS is supposed to have acquired?"

Hood's expression grew serious.

"Yes, enough to make me worried. We're certain they found the enriched uranium Saddam was stockpiling. They may have plutonium as well."

"That's terrible news. But surely they don't have the technology to make a bomb that combines the two."

"Not in the sense that they could use the plutonium to make a bigger bang. But they could make a very dirty bomb. Think Chernobyl."

"Why haven't I seen this in the CRITIC briefs?"

"Because the DNI doesn't think it's credible."

"Are you serious?"

"Our Director of National Intelligence thinks I'm overreacting. He can't quite believe that a bunch of ignorant barbarians like ISIS could be sophisticated enough to build a nuclear bomb, much less deploy it. He doesn't want to distract the president with rumors."

"You have to go over his head."

"I will. Just as soon as I have definite proof."

"Let me see what Stephanie can pick up. She's been working on developing a new program for analyzing voice patterns and phrases and combined it with a translation program. ISIS is savvy when it comes to phone conversations, but someone might make a mistake."

"I like the idea," Hood said. "It fits right in with looking for our spymaster in the caliphate. But even if we find him, we might run into a problem."

"You mean we might not get the go-ahead to take him out?"

"I've never understood why the White House hasn't taken on ISIS in any meaningful way. During the last few months Rice has become more and more unfocused. I think something is physically wrong with him. Perhaps some aftermath of the assassination attempts."

"You think he's losing it?"

"I wouldn't go that far, but I see a power vacuum forming. Part of it's because of the election. He's distracted and the people around him aren't willing to make unpopular decisions. Nobody wants to rock the boat. They're all worried about their political future."

Elizabeth looked at her empty coffee cup. "After this election, you and I may be out of a job."

"The thought had occurred to me," Hood said. "It depends on who wins."

"If ISIS succeeds in building a nuclear bomb it won't matter who wins," Elizabeth said.

CHAPTER 44

Two days had passed since Nick and the others had returned to the base at Incirlik. Elizabeth and Hood had narrowed the list of ISIS leaders who could be searching for the Grail to three possibilities. At the same time, Stephanie had been searching through thousands of records from the sixteenth century, looking for anything to indicate where the Grail had been taken by the Knights Hospitallers.

She'd found nothing. She came into Elizabeth's office to tell her.

"I give up," she said.

"You give up what?"

"On finding anything about where the Grail went after Rhodes, assuming it was ever on Rhodes in the first place. There isn't much hard information about the Hospitallers during that time period. They moved all over Europe for years before the king of Sicily gave them Malta. As far as Malta goes, I looked through everything I could find. There's nothing at all about the Grail or anything like it."

"You're certain."

"I admit, it's frustrating. But I can't find something that isn't there."

"I was afraid it would come to this, sooner or later. It's amazing we managed to trace it as far as Rhodes."

"Even that isn't certain," Stephanie said. "What if that monk was lying?"

"We'll never know, will we?"

"Are you going to bring the team home?"

"Yes. There's no point in sending them to Malta now."

"They'll be glad to… oh!"

Stephanie doubled over, clutching her bulging abdomen with both arms. Elizabeth got up and went to her. She put her hand on Stephanie's shoulder.

"Steph, what's the matter? Are you all right?"

"I don't know."

A sudden rush of liquid ran down Stephanie's legs.

"Your water broke. The baby's coming. "

"But it's not time yet!"

"I'm afraid it is. I'll drive you to the hospital. It's quicker than calling an ambulance."

They went out to the parking lot and got into Elizabeth's Audi. Elizabeth called ahead to the gate for her escort. She was met by two black GMC suburbans at the entrance to the compound, each manned by four men from her security detail. One of the vehicles went ahead, one behind. They sped toward Alexandria and the hospital.

They were moving fast, doing more than seventy, weaving in and out of heavy traffic with strobe lights flashing. Stephanie was talking to Lucas on her cell phone when the lead vehicle blew a front tire. The suburban veered right, then hard left. It tipped onto its side and rolled, bouncing into the air. The truck struck a gray compact and sent it spinning across three lanes of traffic.

A massive chain collision began, cars smashing into each other in every direction. Elizabeth swerved to avoid the suburban and struck a delivery van in the outer lane. Her fender crumpled into the tire and shredded it. The Audi went down on the rim, sending a stream of sparks by her window.

She fought the wheel for control.

The car back ended a motorcycle caught in the middle of the chaos. The rider was hurled onto the pavement. Elizabeth wrenched the wheel over to avoid running over him and slammed sideways into the back of a pickup truck. The car crumpled in a shrieking chorus of tearing metal and breaking glass.

As she lost consciousness, Elizabeth heard Stephanie scream.

CHAPTER 45

Nick and Selena were quartered in housing reserved for visiting officers. It was functional and well used, decorated with the same government furnishings and boring colors Nick had seen a thousand times in his career. Interior decor was not a military specialty.

His phone rang. The display showed an unfamiliar number. Only Elizabeth Harker and Stephanie had his number, and it wasn't either one of them.

The phone rang again.

"Yes."

"Nick, this is DCI Hood. There's been an accident. Director Harker is badly hurt."

Selena was nearby and saw the look on his face.

"What's the matter?"

"It's Hood. What happened, Director?"

"She was on her way to the hospital with Stephanie. The lead car in her convoy blew a tire and flipped over. They were in the middle of heavy traffic. It caused an eighteen car collision and Elizabeth's car was caught in the middle of it. She was in surgery for more than six hours. Now she's in intensive care."

"Shit."

"Yes."

"What about Steph? Is she alright?"

"Shaken up and badly bruised from the airbag, but yes, she's all right."

Selena had been listening to Nick's end of the conversation.

"What about the baby? Ask him about the baby."

"I heard that," Hood said. "The baby is fine. He had quite an entrance, just as they were bringing the two of them into the emergency ward."

"The baby is okay," Nick said to Selena. "But Harker is in intensive care."

"You need to come back, Nick."

"Right."

"I've sent my Gulfstream to pick you up. It should arrive about 1900 your time today."

"Thank you, Director."

"Elizabeth is in serious condition and the prognosis is guarded. She's going to be out of commission for some time. I don't think Stephanie is the best choice to take over at the moment. She has a new baby and she's had a bad shock. She needs time off. Can you run things for a while, until Elizabeth recovers?"

"Of course, Director."

"All the resources of Langley are at your disposal. Analysis, surveillance, whatever you need."

"Thank you."

"You may not thank me when you find out what you're dealing with. But we'll talk about that when you get here."

"Copy that."

"I'll see you when you get back."

Hood broke the connection.

"Well?" Selena asked. "What did he say?"

"Harker is in intensive care and the doctors are hedging their bets. He's asked me to take over for her."

"What about Steph? She's Elizabeth's Deputy."

"Hood thinks she needs time off. He's right, but I'm not looking forward to doing Elizabeth's job. The last time she was out of action, I had Steph to help me hold down the fort. She handled all the political stuff and the day-to-day and I pretty much kept doing what I'd been doing before. It was a real stretch until Elizabeth came back."

"They're both fine? Stephanie and the baby?"

"That's what he said."

"We have to go back."

"We are. Hood is sending his plane to pick us up. We're leaving tonight."

"I wonder if Steph found out anything about the Grail?" Selena said.

"If she did, Hood didn't mention it. We'll ask her when we get there." Nick looked at his watch. "I'd better go tell Ronnie and Lamont what's happened."

"It makes you wonder," Selena said.

"What does?"

"Whether or not we're meant to find it."

"The Grail?" Nick said. "We either find it or we don't."

"You don't think there might be more going on here?"

"Like what?"

"What if it really is more than just a cup? What if there is a mystical connection to it? If there is, only the right person can find it."

"It's just a story, made up a thousand years ago to keep people entertained. Medieval TV, sitting around the fire pit listening to the minstrel."

"Maybe," she said.

CHAPTER 46

Back in Washington, Selena and Nick made a quick stop at home and went to the hospital. They visited Stephanie first. She had two black eyes and bruises all over. Aside from that, she'd escaped with nothing more than an aching body and a wrenched shoulder. It was Elizabeth's side of the car that had taken most of the impact in the crash.

The new baby lay on the bed next to Stephanie. The two women bent over the sleeping child, talking in low voices. Nick stood nearby wondering what else to do after congratulating Stephanie. He decided to ask about the Grail later.

"Where's Lucas?" Nick asked.

"Shh, you'll wake the baby," Selena said.

"Don't worry about that," Stephanie said. "He's like his father. He's a sound sleeper, at least when he's asleep."

"What's his name?"

"Michael."

"I thought Lucas would be here," Nick said.

"He had to go over to Langley. Something's up, I'm not sure what. I should be used to it by now. Have you seen Elizabeth yet?"

"Not yet."

"She's in ICU. It's on the third floor."

"You go ahead, Nick. I'll join you in a few moments," Selena said.

Nick left the room and headed for the elevator.

Glad to get out of there, aren't you?

His critical inner voice whispered to him. He never knew when it was going to stick it's two cents worth into his life.

"Always got something to say, don't you?" he said out loud.

A nurse passing in the hall gave him a wary look.

On the third floor he followed arrows painted on the wall to the intensive care unit. Elizabeth's room had a glass window that allowed hospital staff to observe her and kept visitors and their germs at a distance. Nick recognized two of the security team sitting in the hall. They nodded to him as he approached. Clarence Hood stood outside the viewing window, looking in.

"Hello, Nick."

"Director."

Nick looked through the window. Elizabeth lay on her back, slightly raised in the hospital bed. Her head was tightly bandaged and locked into a brace. She looked as white as the sheets she lay on. Her eyes were closed. A bag dripped clear liquid into one of her veins. A second bag hung next to it.

A monitor near the bed displayed a steady stream of half a dozen vital functions in bright, digital colors. More machines stood ready nearby. Nick didn't know what their function was, but they looked as though you'd be in deep trouble if you needed them.

Intensive care wasn't a fun place to be.

"She's sedated," Hood said. His voice sounded strained. "I can't talk to her, let her know I’m here."

Nick and Selena had speculated about the relationship between Elizabeth and Hood and wondered whether or not the rumors were true. The way Hood was looking at Elizabeth told him they were. Hood's face had the haunted look of a man who thought someone he deeply cared for might die. Nick had seen that kind of face before, but not on the director of the CIA.

"She has a cracked cervical vertebra, three broken ribs, a hairline fracture in her skull and a broken collarbone," Hood said. "One of the ribs punctured a lung."

"She's tough. She'll pull through."

"I know," Hood said. "But seeing her like that… "

"It never gets easy."

"All these years, working in the agency, I never once had to go through this. Waiting to see if someone close was going to live or die."

"She's made it this far," Nick said. "If were you, I'd stick with that thought."

Hood turned to look at him. "You have no idea how refreshing it is to have someone say it like it is. Thanks. I was beginning to let my self-pity get the best of me."

"I know the feeling," Nick said.

"You're stepping into a bad situation," Hood said. "I don't want to brief you here. In any event it can wait until tomorrow."

Nick looked at Elizabeth, lying unconscious.

"You'd better count on being in charge for a while," Hood said.

CHAPTER 47

Early the next morning, Selena sat in the kitchen in a Japanese robe, sipping coffee and thinking about Stephanie.

Nick came in wearing sweats and running shoes. Tucked in the small of his back was his backup pistol, a new .40 caliber Smith & Wesson Shield. It was light and powerful and fit well in his hand. The Smith replaced the Colt .380 he'd carried for years. More punch, and the rounds were the same as what he used in his Sig.

"I'm going for a run. I've got my phone with me."

"I want to go to the hospital this morning," Selena said.

"I can't go with you. I've got to start getting things sorted out and talk with Hood. There'll be a briefing later. Come in as soon as you can."

Nick walked over and kissed her. "See you later."

He rode the elevator down to the ground floor and stepped out into the chill of a late October morning. A gleaming black Cadillac limousine idled at the curb. A man in a formal chauffeur's uniform stood by the car. He opened the rear door as Nick came out of the building.

It can't be, Nick thought.

"Good morning, Mister Carter. I've been told to give you this."

He stepped forward, holding up a gold coin. Nick's hand slipped to the butt of his gun, just in case this wasn't what he thought it was. The chauffeur handed the coin to him. It was about the size of a silver dollar and bore the seal of the Knights Templar, two Knights riding on a single horse.

A man Nick knew only as Adam had given him a coin like that. Adam had told him that anyone showing him a similar coin was from the Guardians, a secret society formed in the twelfth century within the Knights Templar to protect the sacred relics and holy places of the West from desecration and conquest. The Knights had been betrayed and persecuted in 1307, but the guardians had survived.

Adam had always met Nick like this, without warning, at his doorstep, waiting in a black Cadillac limo. But his car was ripped open and turned into a smoldering wreck by a bomb thrown from a motorcycle, right after Nick had gotten out of the car. As far as Nick knew, Adam was dead.

The chauffeur gestured at the open door. "Mister Carter?"

What the hell.

Nick got into the back seat of the luxurious car. The chauffeur closed the door. It locked with a soft sound. In a moment the car began moving, accelerating silently away from the curb. Nick was plunged into a sense of déjà vu. It was surreal to be sitting in a car he knew had been destroyed

Everything was as it had been before. The compartment was lit with discrete lighting. The seats and fittings were rich, black leather and polished rosewood. The windows were completely blacked out. Nick had no idea where the vehicle was going. The chauffeur was hidden behind a raised panel of black glass. A similar panel divided the rear compartment in two, so that Nick was unable to see who was on the other side of the glass. There was a speaker and a closed slot in the glass that Nick knew concealed a large drawer.

"Good morning Nick. It's good to see you again."

The voice was distorted by electronics. It was impossible to know if the speaker was a man or a woman.

"Adam?"

"You sound surprised." Nick heard a soft chuckle on the other side of the glass.

"You're supposed to be dead."

"It was a necessary fiction. I knew that AEON would make an attempt to eliminate me. I was taking standard precautions. As you will have gathered by now, I was not in the car. I was talking to you from a remote location."

"What about the chauffeur?"

"That was unfortunate. Joshua was an exemplary soldier," Adam said. "His death was regrettable."

"So am I talking to you or to a speaker?"

"I am here in the car."

"I'm relieved to hear you say that. At least I don't have to worry I'll be blown to bits while we're riding around having this little talk."

"You sound upset, Nick."

"Not upset, annoyed. All this cloak and dagger, hocus-pocus doesn't go down well. I like to see who I'm dealing with face-to-face."

"I would've thought that you'd trust me by now," Adam said.

"If I didn't trust you I would not have gotten in this car. But that doesn't mean I'm happy with the arrangement."

"Perhaps one day it will be possible for me to reveal myself to you. In the meantime, there are things we need to discuss."

"I'm all ears," Nick said.

The car slowed and stopped and began moving again.

"Let me say first that I am sorry Director Harker and her deputy are now unable to assist you. It will make things a bit more difficult for you over the next week or so. Rest assured that we are watching them and they will be safe in your absence."

"My absence?"

"You must go to Syria."

"You mind telling me why I would want to go to Syria?"

"Because you've been looking for the Grail and that is where it is. Because ISIS must not find it before you do."

You have got to be kidding. How does he know this stuff?

"Okay, I'll bite. Where in Syria is it?"

"In a suburb of Damascus called Darraya. You were told it was moved from Mor Gabriel. That is true. It is also true that it was handed over to the Knights Hospitallers. But that was a temporary arrangement for safekeeping to avoid the threat Tamarlane presented. The cup was returned to the Syriac Patriarch and taken to a church in Darraya. It's hidden in a library, which is in itself hidden beneath the remains of the church. The building was destroyed in the early days of the war. There's a trapdoor in the rubble that opens onto stairs leading down to a large basement. That's where the library is, far enough under the surface to be safe from the bombs and shells. The Grail is inside a crypt which hasn't been discovered yet."

"Why would someone hide a library in the middle of a war zone?"

"To preserve the light of civilization in the midst of the darkness covering that sad land."

"You make it sound almost biblical, Adam."

"It is biblical, Nick, in more ways than you yet understand. You recall the prophecy in the Book of Simon?"

"You know about that? Would it do any good for me to ask how?"

"It would not. Besides, it's not relevant. ISIS has built a nuclear device. You will learn about it today when you take over Director Harker's responsibilities. DCI Hood knows most of the details. He'll brief you. What he doesn't know is that the bomb is being brought to America."

"Shit."

"Elegantly put."

"Who controls Darraya?" Nick asked. "Assad or the rebels?"

"The rebels, specifically the Free Syrian Army. The city is under siege by Assad's troops. It is a very dangerous place. There are snipers everywhere and constant bombing and shelling."

"And you want me to go there. Sounds like a perfect vacation spot."

"The Grail must be recovered before ISIS finds it. They've discovered that it never left the Middle East and they're closing in on it. If they find it, Simon's prophecy may be fulfilled. You have to stop them."

Whoever was sitting on the other side of the black glass had just made Nick responsible for preventing the end of the world.

A dull pain began in his forehead.

"Are you telling me this prophecy is real? That if the Grail falls into the hands of ISIS it will bring about the Last Judgement?"

"Yes. It could."

"Damn it, Adam, how come you don't go get it? You know where it is. Why call yourself Guardians if you can't guard something as important as the Grail?"

"We are not allowed to interfere. I'm not permitted to tell you why. We use our resources to guide others, like yourself, when things reach a crisis in the war."

"Which war are you talking about? There are several going on at the moment."

"I thought you would have understood by now, Nick. This isn't a simple question of bad people trying to start a new war. You're part of a war that has been going on for a very long time. You could say that it's the only real war."

As the electronic voice echoed through the speaker, Nick felt an electric rush of adrenaline and a sense of something dark and ancient watching outside the edge of his awareness. It made his skin crawl.

"Darkness and light, good and evil. There is no war older than that. That story can be found in every religion in the world."

"If you mean what I think you mean, I don't believe in the devil," Nick said.

"Do you believe there is evil in the world?"

"I think that's self-evident."

"That is all that is required," Adam said.

"What am I supposed to do with the Grail once I find it? If I find it?"

"That will become apparent."

The drawer in the black glass wall separating Nick from Adam slid open. It contained a folded map. Nick reached in and took it out. The drawer slid closed.

The car came to a stop. Nick heard the quiet sound of the door lock releasing. Adam's disembodied voice came through the speaker.

"The map gives you the exact location of the library. The opening to the crypt is in the southwest wall of the room."

"How come no one's discovered it yet?" Nick asked.

"It was always well hidden. Good hunting, Nick."

Nick got out. Adam had brought him back to the sidewalk in front of his loft. He watched the black limo pull away.

How do I get into these things? he thought.

CHAPTER 48

In Raqqa, Abdul Haddad was thinking about Darraya and the hidden library. The irony did not escape him. He'd been looking far away for the cup used by the prophet Isa, when all along it had been close nearby.

In a normal world it would have been within easy driving distance. The world wasn't normal anymore and it wasn't going to be easy to get to it. Darraya was one of the places in Syria were ISIS was not in control. It was under siege by Assad's forces. Scum. Pigs. Words would never describe how much Haddad loathed the Shia.

He knew about the prophecy in the Book of Simon from his spy in Sweden. It fit with the signs of the coming of the Mahdi laid down in the Hadiths, teachings collected after the death of Mohammed. Haddad was certain he'd been chosen by Allah to help fulfill the prophecy. Why else had he found himself at the center of this search for the relic?

One man traveling alone had the best chance of getting through Assad's lines. Once through the ring of steel surrounding the city, he would need to be careful if he wanted to stay alive. Discovery meant torture and death. Allah would protect him, but he needed to prepare.

He would have to take on the appearance of the thing he hated most, a Shia apostate. Few in the caliphate knew as much about Shia ways as Haddad. Aside from his personal distaste, it wouldn't be difficult to pass as one of them. In the service of Allah, anything was permitted. He would be forgiven for his deception.

Haddad didn't know the exact location of the bombed out building where the secret library hid the cup. The library had been created by University students, as a way to continue their studies in the midst of the chaos. It wouldn't be hard to find out where the students gathered. One of them would tell him where the library was, whether he wanted to or not.

Most of Darraya had been destroyed and many of its inhabitants slaughtered by Assad. Those who were left were being bombed by the Russians and shelled by Assad’s troops. The city was on the old road to Damascus, famous as the place where the traitorous Jew Saul had received his conversion to Christianity. Haddad prayed the destruction of the city would be complete and all association with the Christian heresy wiped forever from the face of the earth.

But not before he found the cup of Isa.

Just as the Christians believed in the final judgment and an eternity in heaven or hell, Islam believed in the coming of the Mahdi and the yawm al-qiyamah, the Day of Retribution that would follow. On that day the faithful would ascend to paradise. All others would be cast into hell and suffer the torments of the flames for eternity.

The coming of the Mahdi was something Haddad wished for with all his heart, as all true followers of the Prophet did. He would find this cup the Christians wanted so badly. When Jaffari's bomb exploded in the great American city, the final war would begin and the rest of the prophecy would unfold.

The call to prayer echoed through the dusty streets of the city. Haddad spread his rug on the floor and began the ritual ablution.

CHAPTER 49

Adam left Nick in front of his building. Nick watched the limousine pull away and then went up to the loft to change. Selena had already gone to the hospital. He drove out to Virginia and Project headquarters. Now he sat at Harker's desk, staring at the blank monitor on the wall and a row of clocks above it.

He was alone in the building except for Burps. The huge, orange cat strolled over and rubbed against his leg, purring and shedding and drooling on his shoe. Burps was getting old. Nick reached down and scratched him behind one of his tattered ears.

"You're still a pretty kitty," he said. "Don't let anybody tell you different."

He got up and opened a can of cat food and set it down near the desk with a bowl of water. There was something comforting in the sounds as the cat ate. It was noisy, like everything else Burps did.

Nick had wanted a little time to think before the others got there. The unexpected encounter with a man he'd thought dead changed everything.

What was it Adam had said? You're part of a war that's been going on for a long time. He'd meant since Lucifer had been thrown out of heaven. The Templars were a religious order, and Adam was one of them. It made sense he would see it that way, but it wasn't the way Nick was used to looking at things.

He'd never been religious. How could anyone believe in God when they thought about the terrible things happening every day? Things like barrel bombs falling on children or fanatics justifying mass murder in God's name.

Nick had no problem believing in evil, but he didn't believe it needed a supernatural being like Satan to account for it. He thought it was hardwired into the human psyche. Fortunately for humanity, there was also something hardwired in for good. The problem was that it seemed there were more people at the moment who fell into the evil category than the good one.

He felt a headache begin. Thinking about the nature of good and evil was enough to give anyone a headache.

Harker's desk was his for the moment and there was plenty to do. First he had to talk with Hood. Then the team had to plan the mission into Syria. Hood could help there, but it was going to be harder without Stephanie backing them up.

He used Harker's secured desk phone and called Hood at Langley. Half an hour later, the headache was a lot worse. Hood had confirmed what Adam had said.

A nuclear bomb, coming soon to a city near you.

Without explaining the source of the information, Nick told Hood he had learned that the bomb was headed for America. He ducked Hood's questions and after they had arranged a meeting for later in the day he ended the call.

Nick got up and walked to the bathroom out in the hall. He found a bottle of aspirin in the medicine cabinet, scooped water from the tap into his hand and gulped down four of the pills. As he headed back to Elizabeth's office, Stephanie came in. She had her newborn wrapped up and cradled in her arms. Selena was right behind her.

"Steph. What are you doing here?"

"You need my help. Besides, I was bored in the hospital. There's no reason for me to be there. There's nothing wrong with me, Michael is healthy. The worst thing I can do for myself is do nothing."

"I tried to talk her out of it," Selena said.

"I won't pretend I'm not glad to see you," Nick said. "But are you sure you can handle this? Things are going to get intense around here over the next couple of weeks."

"Things are always intense around here. I can handle it, but I'll be taking a lot of breaks."

"Thanks, Steph," Nick said. "You just took a hell of a load off my mind."

"You're welcome. I'm going downstairs to fire everything up."

"I'm going to hold a briefing in an hour. There's something you can do for me before that. I need a current satellite photo of a suburb of Damascus called Darraya. Something detailed that shows the streets and the surrounding area. Can you find one for me?"

"It shouldn't be a problem. We have satellites and drones monitoring Syria. I'll get right on it."

She headed for the spiral staircase to the lower level.

"Where are Ronnie and Lamont?" Selena asked.

"They'll be here soon."

"Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I have. Adam is back."

"What? But he was killed. Wasn't he?"

"He wasn't in the car. The driver was killed but Adam was somewhere else, talking to me on a link."

"What did he want?"

"He told me where the Grail is hidden. It's in Syria, in a suburb of Damascus."

Selena pursed her lips. "So that's why you want the satellite picture. How come he doesn't go get it? Why us?"

"I asked him that. He said he wasn't permitted to tell me why."

"I'm glad that's cleared up."

"He gave me a map."

Nick took the folded map from his pocket and opened it up. It showed the city of Damascus and the suburb of Darraya. The location of the hidden library was circled in red.

"Darraya is a rebel stronghold. It's surrounded by Assad's army and under siege, with daily shelling. People have created a secret library in the midst of all the destruction, under the ruins of a Syriac church. The Grail is in a crypt there. The monk in Turkey misled us. They handed off the Grail to the Hospitallers but it got handed back to them and moved to Damascus."

"Maybe he didn't know about it. Either that, or he sent us on a wild goose chase," Selena said.

"Yeah."

"It's a good thing we didn't end up going to Malta."

Nick looked at the map and thought about a city in ruins, under attack and surrounded by hostile forces. Once they got inside the city, everyone was an enemy.

"We might wish we were going to Malta. This one is going to be a bitch."

"How are we going to go in?"

"I want to wait until Ronnie and Lamont get here so we can talk it over. I haven't figured that out yet."

"Speak of the devil," Selena said, "here they are."

"Let's not," Nick said.

"Let's not what?"

"Speak of the devil."

Ronnie came into the room with Lamont close behind.

"Feels like we might get some snow later," Ronnie said.

"That's what I like about you," Lamont said. "Always the optimist."

"Let me get Steph up here," Nick said.

Ronnie looked surprised. "Steph? I thought she was in the hospital."

"She showed up earlier."

Nick spoke into Harker's intercom. "Steph, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Nick. I've got the photos you wanted. "

"Come on up and we'll start."

"On my way."

A few minutes later she took her place on the couch with her laptop. The baby was asleep. Nick gave silent thanks for small favors and laid it out for them. He told them about Adam's reappearance and that the Grail was in Syria. He told them what Adam had said about the prophecy. He left out the part about being in a war between good and evil. Then he told them ISIS had built a nuclear bomb.

"Adam told me when I was in the car. Hood confirmed it."

"Is he sure?" Ronnie asked. "ISIS has a nuke?"

"Yes. Hood has an informant somewhere in the organization. He said the analysts think they've found the lab where it was built, a couple of hours out of Raqqa. He was going to send us to look at it but things have changed. He's setting up a Delta mission to go in and check out the site."

"That's the worst news I've heard since 9/11," Ronnie said.

"They plan to set it off here, in the states. If they succeed, it will make 9/11 look like a preview to the main attraction.”

"They have to get it into the country first," Lamont said.

"You know they can do it," Ronnie said. "Our borders make Swiss cheese look like a brick wall."

"Langley's on it," Nick said. "It's not our job to deal with the bomb."

"Can't say I'm sorry about that," Lamont said.

"ISIS knows the Grail is in Syria. Our job is to retrieve it before they do."

"Do they know it's in Darraya?" Selena asked.

"Adam didn't say that, only that they knew it was in Syria. But it's safe to assume that if they figured out that much, Darraya can't be far behind."

Stephanie said, "I don't know if it's relevant, but I think I've identified the man who's been sending people after you, the one who's looking for the Grail."

She put a picture up on the monitor of an unsmiling man with grim eyes.

"Everything's relevant," Nick said. "Who is he?"

"His name is Abu Abdul Haddad. He's close to al-Baghdadi, one of the ranking members in ISIS leadership. He's in charge of foreign intelligence, surveillance, things like that."

"Our spymaster," Selena said.

"Yes. He thought his phone was secure but he was wrong."

"If ISIS finds out the Grail is in Darraya, he'll send someone after it," Selena said.

Nick drummed his fingers on Harker's desk.

Now I see why she does this all the time, he thought..

"I'll tell Hood. If we can spot him, we can take him out. It might buy us some breathing room. Good work, Steph."

She smiled at him. "My pleasure."

Nick pulled out Adam's map.

"This shows where the Grail is supposed to be hidden."

"Let me have it," Steph said. "I can put it up on the monitor."

She came over to the desk and he handed it to her. There was a scanner on the corner of Harker's desk. Steph smoothed the map out on the desktop and placed it in the scanner. With a few keystrokes on her laptop, the map appeared on the wall monitor where everyone could look at it.

Stephanie entered a new command and a satellite photograph of Darraya appeared on the screen next to the map. She zoomed in on the area Adam had circled in red.

"Man, that place looks like pictures of Berlin in 1945," Lamont said.

Darraya had been a popular tourist spot known for its crafts and cafés, but it wasn't a place to visit anymore. The satellite photograph showed streets lined with the pockmarked shells of buildings and filled with piles of rubble. Everything had been bombed or hit by artillery shells and heavy weapons fire. It was hard to imagine that people still lived there.

"Zoom out a little," Nick said.

From a wider point of view they saw that the city was surrounded by hostile forces. Assad's troops were everywhere, supported by tanks and heavy artillery.

"More like Stalingrad than Berlin," Ronnie said. "You gotta hand it to the rebels. Those guys are tough bastards. Too bad they're not on our side."

"That's one of the problems," Nick said. "They're not."

He opened the drawer of the desk. Elizabeth kept a laser pointer in it. He found the pointer, clicked it on and pointed out the spot on the satellite photograph where the library was indicated on the map. It was almost in the center of the city.

"Hell of a place to go just to get a book," Lamont said.

CHAPTER 50

Getting into a city surrounded by enemy troops and under siege was bad enough. The surrounding region was equally hostile and that made it worse. If they went overland they would almost certainly be discovered. Nick had no illusions about what would happen then.

They talked it through and decided the only way in to the target was a high-altitude, high opening jump. Nick and Ronnie had each made one during their time in Marine Recon. Lamont and Selena had never done it.

HAHO jumps were dangerous and difficult and were only used when the risk of the aircraft being shot down on approach was extremely high. For Darraya, coming in over the target low or high was not an option. They would be over enemy territory, lighting up enemy radar. Assad's antiaircraft missile batteries wouldn't miss. They were modern and deadly, courtesy of the Iranians.

The advantage of a HAHO jump was that they could leave the plane some distance away from the target and glide in undetected. They could approach the Lebanese coast without being blown out of the air. The distance from the coast to Darraya was at the edge of HAHO capability, but it could be done.

That left the problem of getting out again. Nick called Hood and told him the Grail was in Darraya and that he wanted to take the team in to get it. He didn't tell Hood about Adam.

"I'm beginning to understand how good Director Harker is at this. I never thought much about how she got us the support we needed or where it came from. I just figured it was part of her job."

"You're the acting director now, Nick, and you seem to be doing rather well at it. You're going to have to learn on the run. Stephanie can help you with some of it. But Elizabeth had all the threads in her fingers."

"I need your help," Nick said. "The only way in there without being detected is a HAHO jump."

"That makes sense, given the situation," Hood said. "Give me a day and I can line up what you need."

"Getting in is one thing. I'm wondering how the hell we're going to get out."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Hood said, "Let me call you back in about an hour."

Hood disconnected. An hour and a half later he called.

"I had to get your security clearance upgraded before I could tell you this," he said. "You need it anyway since you're running the Project until Elizabeth recovers. DARPA has developed an experimental stealth helicopter for penetration into enemy territory. It's fast, well armed and damn near invisible. It's also quiet. It's perfect for what you need."

"Will the Pentagon go along with it? They're protective of their toys."

"They'll go along with it," Hood said. "It gives them a chance to put it through its paces and see if everything works in a real life combat situation."

"To see if everything works?"

"I told you it was experimental. It's never been tried in combat."

"You mean we'd be guinea pigs."

"In a way. Unless you have a better idea…?"

He left the question dangling.

"Could we use it to go in?"

"I don't think I can persuade them to do that," Hood said. "They'll risk it for an extraction if I tell them it's important. They won't want to make a double run, it's too much to ask."

"Half a ride is better than none," Nick said.

CHAPTER 51

Darraya was a city pulled from a madman's darkest dreams. The deserted shells of burnt out buildings formed black and menacing shapes against the night sky. There were no lights to be seen. A light would have drawn an instant hail of sniper fire or worse. The only illumination came from smoldering fires and artillery flashes in the distance, or when a shell landed and exploded.

The streets were empty except for an occasional, furtive figure. Occasional shots punctuated the night as one of Assad's snipers fired.

Haddad had encountered little difficulty crossing the government lines. Confident in their ultimate victory, Assad's men were getting careless. Now Haddad was on the street leading to the ruined Syriac church and the library hidden beneath it.

It hadn't taken more than a few hours to discover someone who could tell him where the library was located. His informant had resisted at first but then had been most cooperative. Haddad was a master at inflicting unbearable pain and it always worked. Before he died, the student he'd questioned told him the library was often empty at night. The shelling and bombing were greatest during the day. That was when the people who knew about it sought shelter. If his luck held, there would be no one there to interfere with the search for the cup.

The street had been heavily shelled. Not a single building was intact. In the dark it was difficult to determine which was the one he sought. The student had said there was a door in a side wall that opened onto a path leading through the rubble to a wooden trapdoor. The door concealed steps going down into a basement far below street level, safe from the bombs and shells. The library was as much a place of physical refuge as a place where the mind could find a moment of normalcy in the midst of so much insanity.

Haddad stumbled on a piece of masonry and saw part of the Syriac diamond cross carved into the stone. He had found what was left of the church.

The shell of the church was mostly intact. An alley ran between the church and a burned out apartment building next door. Haddad turned down the alley. A shell screamed overhead and exploded, sending bits of debris raining down on him. In the flare of light from the explosion, Haddad saw the door. He readied his AK and went through, picking his way along a path barely visible in the rubble.

The heavy wooden trap door was there, just as he'd been told. Haddad bent down, grabbed the edge and lifted it up. A faint light shone below, at the foot of a flight of stone steps.

Haddad started down the steps. As he neared bottom he heard voices.

They will help me look, he thought.

At the bottom was a large room. All four walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves filled with books salvaged from the ruins of the city. Anyone would recognize the room as a library. There were even couches and chairs, where one could sit and read at leisure. The room provided surreal contrast to the devastation above, an illusion of safety.

Two men stood talking. They hadn't heard him come in and had their backs to him. Haddad raised his AK.

"I'm looking for something," he said. "Perhaps you can help me find it."

The men turned around. Haddad saw they were young, students no more than twenty or twenty-one years old.

"You don't need your weapon here, brother," one of them said. "Here, we leave the war upstairs."

"I'm not your brother," Haddad said.

Haddad looked at the walls filled with books. There was no obvious door or place where something could be hidden. The floor was stone, covered with tattered rugs.

Where was the cup hidden?

"You." Haddad gestured with his rifle. "Begin pulling those rugs off the floor."

"I won't," one of the two students said. "You can't do that."

Haddad drove the butt of his rifle into the man's stomach. He doubled over in pain. Haddad stepped back and aimed the rifle at him.

"I won't ask again."

"Do as he says, Ibrihim," his companion said.

"But…"

"Just do it."

The second man began pushing furniture off a rug.

"A good decision," Haddad said. He turned to the Ibrihim, bent over and holding his stomach. "Help him. Now."

Haddad watched as they moved the furniture and took up the rugs. He followed them around the room, looking for the telltale lines of a crypt set into the floor.

He found nothing.

"Start pulling those books away from the walls."

Ibrihim opened his mouth to protest but one look at Haddad's expression and the way he held the AK silenced him. Books and shelves began to pile up along the walls. On the third wall, Haddad saw the arched outline of a passage bricked up centuries before. It had been hidden behind the shelves

"Take that floor lamp. Break down the wall where you see the arch."

Grumbling, the men picked up a floor lamp with a heavy base.

"You are thinking you can use the lamp to attack me," Haddad said. "Is it worth your life? Use the lamp like a battering ram. Break down the wall."

"Why are you doing this?" the second man said. "We're students. We are not part of this war."

Haddad pointed his rifle at the man.

"All right, all right."

"Don't provoke him, Jalal. Do as he says."

The men swung the heavy base of the lamp into the bricks. The ancient mortar cracked. Dust dribbled down the face of the wall. They swung the lamp again and then again. A few bricks tumbled out of the wall.

"Keep going," Haddad said.

After four more blows the bricked up opening crumbled, revealing a lightless passage behind. An ancient odor of dust and something unpleasant wafted into the room.

"We've done as you asked," Jalal said. "Let us go."

"All right," Haddad said.

He pulled the trigger. The burst took Ibrihim in the chest and knocked him back against the wall. He fell forward onto the floor. Haddad swung the muzzle and shot Jalal. He walked over and fired a single shot to the head of each man, then spat on the bodies.

"Shia dogs," he said.

CHAPTER 52

A Hercules C-130 carrying Nick and the others approached Lebanon at 35,000 feet, the maximum height for a HAHO jump. They'd spent a half hour on pure oxygen to purge most of the nitrogen from their blood before climbing over 10,000 feet. The depths of the ocean were not the only place where humans could come down with a painful and fatal case of the bends.

Selena had made one military jump at high altitude, but a HAHO jump was a different ballgame. The jump over the Himalayas had been high up but the target hadn’t been that far below and she's been down in a matter of minutes. Even with her long history of sky diving and sport jumping, the Tibet mission had taught her that what she'd learned as a civilian paled in comparison to what the military went through on a mission.

As in Tibet, Selena had a fitted mask and plenty of oxygen. Jumping that high and then gliding for many miles meant long exposure to the cold outside the aircraft and increased danger of hypoxia. To combat the cold she wore a high altitude suit and heavy over gloves. Her chute was a high glide ratio variation designed specifically for HAHO jumps. There would be no freefalling on this mission. They would pop chutes as soon as they left the plane. Nick had warned her that the shock when it opened would be unlike anything she'd experienced before. Then they would begin a long, flat glide to the target in Darraya, more than fifty miles away.

Selena was nervous. A jump like this was right up at the top of special forces skills and a lot could go wrong. It was a long way from the life she'd led before the Project.

Unlike Tibet, their gear had been distributed to equalize weight. They would be a long time in the air. Heavy objects fell faster under a chute and she weighed less than Nick and the others. It was enough to alter her rate of descent and make it impossible to keep the team together. The result was that she was burdened with more than usual to make up for the weight differential.

The container with her gear rested at her feet, under the orange strap bench where she sat. In the air she would be a flying pack mule, but she wouldn't have to carry it all on the ground.

Two physiology technicians Nick called PTs kept an eye on the team, looking for any sign of altitude sickness or symptoms of something going wrong. All through the flight they'd been monitoring the team's oxygen levels, watching for signs of distress.

"ETA, twenty minutes."

The voice of the pilot came over their headsets.

"Saddle up," Nick said.

He helped Selena with her gear and her chute, checking that everything was as it was supposed to be. He didn't let her see his concern about her being on this mission. HAHO jumps made the dangers of normal parachuting seen like a ride in an amusement park.

Ronnie came over after helping Lamont and checked Nick's gear. He made a minor adjustment to a strap.

"How you feeling?" he asked Selena.

"Honestly? Nervous as hell."

Ronnie laughed. "You'll be fine. You'll also be the only woman who's ever done this."

"Sure," Selena said. "Too bad no one will ever hear about it."

"Just remember, when that chute opens it's going to be one hell of a jerk. Be ready for it. After that, it's a piece of cake."

One of the PTs came to where they were standing. "We're four minutes out. Get ready to change over to your oxygen bottles."

At two minutes everyone switched over to personal oxygen. The ramp opened, sucking heat from the plane. They moved toward the back. Selena felt her heart pounding. All she could see through the opening was darkness. The sound of the wind blended in harsh chorus with the sound of the engines.

The jump master's voice sounded in her ear piece. "Thirty seconds."

"Remember to stay close," Nick said to Selena.

They lined up for the jump, Nick first, Selena second, Ronnie and Lamont behind. The red light on the jump indicator turned to green.

"Go," Nick said.

He leapt from the plane. Trying not to think about it, Selena jumped into space after him and popped the chute. It felt as though a gigantic, unseen predator had snuck up behind her and tried to tear her arms off her body.

The cold struck like a hammer through the heavy clothing and gloves she wore. Without the mask her face would have frozen within seconds. She kept an eye on her oxygen gauge and maneuvered the chute to keep formation with Nick, gliding in front of her, a dark blur against a deeper darkness.

Below, the coast of Lebanon fell behind. She took one last look. An intermittent string of lights ran down the coast against the blackness of the Atlantic beyond. Ahead lay darkness and the murderous battlefields of Syria.

CHAPTER 53

Darraya at night from a thousand feet looked like a vision from Dante's Inferno. Fires smoldered in dozens of places, casting a reddish gloom over the doomed city. The smell of smoke and decay drifted in the air. Shattered buildings rose like broken teeth along the desolate streets.

Bright rows of tracers arced through the night below, an eerily beautiful shower of death. Nick had told her there were nine rounds you didn't see for every one you did. An occasional flash from Assad's artillery on the edge of the city was followed by a burst of light somewhere in the ruins.

They landed two blocks away from their target. At the last possible instant, Selena just missed impaling herself on jagged pieces of steel rebar sticking out of the rubble. Nick felt the shock of the landing in his back. As long as he kept moving it wouldn't stiffen up on him, but he knew he'd pay for it later.

They pulled in the chutes, balled them up and dumped them behind a broken wall. Then they stripped off the insulating clothing and broke the containers open for their weapons and supplies.

For this mission, Nick had picked MP7s as their primary weapon. The 4.6 X 30mm ammo fired by the H-K could punch through any body armor made, along with the person wearing it. Each of the guns was fitted with a suppressor and a thirty round magazine. They all had a pistol strapped to their chests and a knife on the thigh.

"Weapons free," Nick said.

They charged their weapons.

Monocular night vision units cut through the darkness and turned the grim landscape into a bizarre painting in green and black. They took some getting used to but Nick preferred them, because they preserved normal vision in one eye. It was too easy to become temporarily blinded by sudden light when both eyes were looking through a unit.

Each carried a radio, survival pack with food and a medical combat pack. They'd brought C4 and detonators and extra loaded magazines for the MP 7s. They had plenty of ammunition if they needed it. They had stun grenades, regular grenades and smoke.

Each was equipped with a personal satellite communication system that let them talk with each other and with Stephanie back in Virginia. Hood was monitoring the mission at Langley. If needed, he could break in. If he did, it meant trouble was on the way.

They tossed the empty containers and high-altitude clothing over the wall to join the chutes. Nick consulted his GPS.

"This way." He gestured.

They moved in single file. By now, Selena had learned the tricks taught by the experience of combat. Her eyes were constantly moving, sorting out images from the night vision unit from her normal vision. At first it was disorienting to see differently through each eye, but it wasn't the first time she'd used the device. It didn't take long to adapt. She was aware of her breath, the sound her boots made on the broken rubble under her feet, the rhythmic pounding of her heart. She could smell herself, a sour odor of sweat, adrenaline and stress.

A stream of tracers shot by overhead, streaks of fire in the night.

Stealing through the ravaged streets of Darraya, she had never felt so alive in her life.

They reached the Syriac church. It had been a large building, almost a cathedral. Part of the roof still stood. The front wall and most of one side wall were gone. The interior of the church was a jumble of broken debris. Pieces of stone and concrete were piled along what had been the front of the building.

"Now what?" Ronnie said.

His voice was quiet. The comm system was sensitive enough to pick up a whisper.

"Adam said there's a trap door somewhere in there. People are using it, so they'll have made some kind of path. No one's going to climb over this wall to read a book. Let's check the side."

They moved down the alley between the church and the building next to it and found an open door. The path was obvious, once you looked for it. They reached the trap door. It was open, thrown back against the rubble.

"Would they leave it open like that?" Selena asked. "That doesn't seem right."

Nick glanced over the edge and saw the stairs leading down.

"There's a light showing down there. It's steep, we'll have to go down single file and the passage is narrow. Pull the night vision once you get close."

Lamont looked over the edge of the opening. "I don't like it. We're sitting ducks for anyone down there."

"We don't have much choice."

"How about we toss a stun grenade in, just to be sure?"

"That's a plan. Reminds me of the bad old days in Iraq."

He took a stun grenade from a pouch on his belt.

"It's probably just civilians in there," Selena said.

"We can't take the chance," Nick said. "If there are civilians, they'll get over it."

When he reached the foot of the stairs, Nick pulled the pin on the stun grenade and tossed it into the room. The sound of the grenade was enormous in the confined space. Selena's ears were ringing even though she'd covered them. Her eyes had been shut tight, but the bright blast of light given off by the grenade sent spots dancing across them.

Nick was into the room in a second, weapon held to his cheek and shoulder. The others were right behind him.

"Place has been torn apart." Lamont kicked at a book on the floor.

Nick bent over the bodies on the floor. He touched one of the men.

"Still warm. These two have been shot. They don't look like combatants."

They looked at the passage in the wall and the broken bricks in front of it.

"This was sealed up," Nick said.

"Someone's looking for the Grail," Selena said. "It can't be anything else."

"He might still be here," Lamont said. "Down that tunnel."

"Only one way to find out," Nick said.

He stood to the side of the entrance and glanced in.

"I can see a wall little farther on. Follow me in. No lights."

He turned off his flash and pulled the night vision unit down over his left eye. The others followed him in.

CHAPTER 54

Not long before, Haddad had slung his rifle over his shoulder, picked up one of the oil lamps lighting the room and started down the passage.

On the street above, an artillery shell landed somewhere close to the ruins. The earth shook. Bits of dirt showered down on him. Haddad held up the light and looked at the roof of the passage. The mortar holding the stones together was old and brittle, crumbling. Another shell landed, dropping bits of mortar on the centuries of dust covering the floor.

The passage went straight, curved right and then left. After a hundred steps it opened into another room. Open shelves filled with bones lined the sides, four high.

A catacomb. These infidel dogs can't even bury their dead properly.

An ancient hint of decay hung in the stale air. Haddad sneezed.

A low stone stood few feet from the wall at the far end of the room. A Syriac cross stood upon it. Two ancient candles set in wooden holders flanked the cross. Haddad used the lamp to light them.

The flame of the candles threw flickering shadows about the macabre room. The stacked bones in the crypts gleamed in the light. The empty eyes of the grinning skulls seem to be watching him.

The cup has to be here, he thought.

He hoped it wasn't hidden amid the bones. Death didn't bother him. Raqqa was filled with death and skulls. But it would take time to go through all those bones. Sooner or later someone would discover the bodies outside and things would get complicated.

No, the logical place would be the altar or nearby.

He examined the wall behind the altar for any sign of a loose stone or hiding place. There wasn't anything there. The wall was solid, part of the church foundation.

He leaned against the corner of the altar and felt it move.

Allahhu Akbar! It's underneath!.

He put the lamp down, took the AK off his shoulder and laid it on the altar. With both hands, he pushed against the corner of the heavy altar. It pivoted in an arc, stone scraping against stone, revealing a compartment hollowed out in the floor underneath.

In the compartment was a wooden box.

Haddad reached down and lifted the box from its hiding place. He straightened, picked up the lamp from the floor and set it on the altar. He wiped dust away and held the box up to examine it.

It was made of olive wood, polished to a high gloss. The quality of workmanship was obvious. The box was square. The diamond cross was carved into each side. Whoever had made it had spent a lot of time making it beautiful.

He had also done something to conceal the way it could be opened.

Haddad turned the box around in his hands. All the sides looked the same. He pressed against one of them. It moved and clicked but nothing happened. He held it between both hands and pressed. Both sides moved, but the box remained closed.

Everything was smooth. There was nothing to grab, no obvious lid, no keyhole. The more he looked at the object in his hands, the more Haddad felt himself growing frustrated.

Another shell struck near the church, rattling the bones of the dead monks. He heard a loud explosion echo through the passage behind him.

That was close, he thought.

A skull fell off its shelf and rolled across the floor to his feet. The vacant eye sockets looked up at Haddad as if to mock him. He kicked the skull across the room. It shattered against the wall.

Another shell struck and then another. Dust poured down from the ceiling.

I have to be sure, he thought. I have to get this open.

He reached for his knife with his left hand, a heavy fighting knife taken from a British soldier. Lamont's voice came from behind him.

"Freeze, asshole!"

Haddad was facing the altar, his back to the entrance of the room. The AK lay inches from his right hand.

They'll question me. Water board me. Sooner or later I'll tell them what I know.

He began to recite the Shahada, the prayer of acceptance and surrender.

"In the name of Allah, the magnificent… "

Haddad grabbed the rifle and started to turn. Nick and Selena and Ronnie and Lamont all fired at the same time. The bullets ripped through him, spraying blood and bone and tissue over the altar and the wall behind. The box flew out of his hand as his body was driven back against the altar. The AK dropped from lifeless fingers. He fell against the altar and slipped to the floor.

"Stupid," Lamont said.

Selena walked over to the box and picked it up. It felt warm in her hands.

"The altar was moved," Nick said. "There's a space under it."

"I think this was in it," Selena held up the box.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"What else could it be?" Selena said. "The Grail must be inside."

"Open it up. Let's see," Ronnie said.

Selena turned the box around in her hands.

"I don't see any way to do it."

"We'll figure it out later," Nick said. "We need to get out of here. It will be light soon."

"Let me search this guy before we go," Lamont said.

He went to Haddad's body and started going through his clothes. There was nothing except a well used pocket copy of the Koran, a scrap of paper and some Syrian and Iraqi currency. Lamont pocketed the items.

"Done."

Nick looked at Haddad's face.

"I'll be damned. This is the guy Stephanie showed us. Our spymaster."

"Looks like his spying days are over," Lamont said.

"Time to boogie," Nick said. "Selena, you take care of that box."

They followed the passage back to the library, stepped over the bodies of the students and climbed back to the surface. It was still dark. A fire had started nearby from the shelling. Whatever was burning threw enough light to make the night vision units useless.

Nick stood by the open trap door and called for extraction.

"Spooky One, Bird Boy."

"Copy, Bird Boy. Ready to fly?"

"Affirmative."

"Copy that, I have your location. Out."

"Spooky One?" Selena asked. "Bird Boy?"

"It wasn't me that thought it up. You can thank Hood."

An artillery shell landed nearby. In the brief light of the explosion, Lamont saw shadowy figures moving toward the church. They had weapons.

"We've got company," he said. "Looks like a dozen or so. They're armed."

"I thought this was too easy," Ronnie said.

"Coming here?" Nick asked.

"Looks like it. I don't think they want to borrow a book."

Nick looked around. The only way out was through the side door they'd used to enter.

"We make a break for it, they'll see us."

"They have to come through that door, just like we did," Ronnie said.

"Yeah. Better hope they don't have an RPG with them."

CHAPTER 55

The back wall of the building was still intact and would protect them from behind. They retreated part of the way into the church and formed a line facing the doorway where the rebels had to enter. Broken masonry gave them some cover from rifle fire. It wouldn't protect them from grenades or from an RPG. They crouched behind the fallen stones, waiting.

Nick lay next to Selena. "Don't shoot until most of them have made it through the door. You see someone with anything more than a rifle, take him down first."

Selena's mouth was dry. She waited, breathing to slow down the adrenaline pumping through her.

A man with a cloth sweatband wrapped around his head came through the doorway, crouching low and swiveling his head from side to side. He had an AK. He said something over his shoulder and three more men followed him in. They moved toward the open entrance to the stairs and stopped. Selena aimed at the one nearest the opening. She felt Nick's hand on her arm and looked over at him. He shook his head.

Not yet.

Five more men came through the door. The first four stood in a group arguing about something. Nick waited but no one else came in.

"Now," he said.

Selena opened fire. She was aware of the others shooting. The night lit with flashes from the guns.

The hail of fire took down all four men by the trap door. The others dove for cover. In seconds, the sound of AK's mixed with the coughing of the MP7s. One of the rebels lifted his rifle over the rock he was hiding behind and fired blindly, spraying bullets in their direction. Selena shot off his hand. She could hear him screaming over the sound of the guns.

She'd never been in a firefight like this. Hundreds of rounds struck the rubble around her, sending chips of rock and masonry flying everywhere. Her gun locked open. She ducked down, ejected and jammed in another magazine, cocked the gun and waited for a lull in the shooting before she looked again.

She was looking at the wrong end of an RPG launcher.

"RPG!" she yelled.

The grenade screamed over her head and impacted against the back of the church, blowing a large opening in the wall. Selena raised up and shot the man with the launcher. It was a temporary reprieve. Someone else would pick it up.

It was only a question of time before more rebels came or they ran out of ammo. Either way they were cooked if they stayed where they were.

Ronnie crawled over to him.

"This is not good, Kemo Sabe."

"Yeah. We'll go out through that back wall. Once we're in the street, we can keep them busy until our ride gets here. Ronnie, Selena, you go first. Lamont and I will cover you. Once you're through, keep them off our six."

The volume of fire coming at them increased and then fell away.

Reloading, Selena thought.

"Go," Nick said. He and Lamont raised up and began laying down fire.

Selena jumped up with Ronnie and ran in a crouch toward the opening blasted out of the back wall. She tripped and went down hard, rolled and came up again several steps behind Ronnie. He reached the opening, went through and then began firing over her head. She made it to the wall and through and moved to the other side.

She looked around the edge of the opening and began shooting at the piles of debris shielding the rebels. Nick and Lamont broke cover and ran toward them. She fired over their heads and prayed they'd make it. Rounds from the rebel guns were whistling through the opening and chipping stone from around it. Nick had almost reached her when he was hit and went down. He stumbled to his feet and made it the rest of the way.

"I'm all right. Glanced off the armor."

He took out his radio.

"Spooky One, this is Bird Boy. The LZ is hot, say again, LZ is hot."

"Copy, Bird Boy. ETA two minutes."

"Moving now. Out."

Behind the church was a street lined with the shattered trunks of trees. They were in a neighborhood of shops and cafés. Across the way was the remains of a two-story high shopping mall. The concrete façade was pockmarked and chipped, the big display windows long gone, but the building was still intact.

"In there," Nick said. "The roof's flat, it's perfect."

They ran across the street. Bullets kicked up pieces of pavement around their feet. They made it through into the building. Behind them, men were shouting.

Ahead of them an escalator led upward. They ran up the silent steps. The second floor was strewn with the remains of displays from the shops lining the sides of the mall. Several broken mannequins leaned in grotesque angles through the shattered windows of a clothing store. Glass crunched under their feet. The night sky showed through gaping holes in the roof.

Below, everything had gone silent.

"They'll be here any minute," Ronnie said. "How do we get to the roof?"

Selena pointed. "There's an exit door. There have to be stairs."

They ran to the door. It was locked.

Nick aimed his rifle at the lock and fired. He kicked the door open. Shots came from behind. They went through the door and slammed it shut. Bullets pounded into it on the other side. Stairs led down and up. They climbed up, forced open another door and found themselves on the roof.

Men were converging on the mall from either end of the street below.

"I'm low on ammo," Ronnie said.

Lamont pulled out two magazines and gave one to him.

"We need more than that, we're in what my grandma used to call a heap of trouble."

The voice of the chopper pilot came over the headset.

"Bird Boy, that you on that roof?"

"Where the hell is he?" Lamont said. "I can't hear him."

"Spooky One, yeah that's us. Hostiles on the ground. They have RPG's. Watch your ass."

"Uh, copy that. Standby."

"I hear something," Ronnie said.

"There he is." Selena pointed.

Coming toward them out of the night was a black shape that looked like nothing they'd ever seen before. The helicopter was all angles and odd surfaces that were hard to grasp, as though the machine was fluid in shape. As it drew closer they heard the sound of the engine for the first time, a soft, ominous rumble mixed with the muffled whir of rotors. The aircraft bristled with weapons.

The chopper angled to the left and unleashed a barrage from a chain gun at the rebel troops in the street. The surface of the street disintegrated. Cannon fire and heavy machine gun rounds shredded the men below.

The pilot brought the chopper close to the roof, hovering inches above the surface. They ran for the open compartment door. A crewman helped Selena in, then Ronnie, then Lamont. Nick came last. As they lifted away, the door to the roof flew open. A streak of fire shot out of the chopper and through the door. A ball of flame rose into the night sky. The roof of the mall fell in on itself, burying anyone below.

"Hell of a machine," Ronnie said. "You see what it did to those poor bastards?"

As they lifted away, Lamont looked out through the open door of the chopper at the ruins of the mall.

"They probably should've waited for a sale," he said.

CHAPTER 56

The experimental helicopter took them back to Incirlik and landed at a part of the base they hadn't seen before. It disappeared into a large hanger. Nick just had time to thank the pilot before they were hustled off.

Back in their quarters, Selena took the box from the crypt out of her pack and placed it on a table.

"I don't think they wanted us to get a good look at that helicopter," she said. "They were pretty quick to get us out of there."

They looked at the box.

"Open it up," Nick said. "Let's see what we've got."

Selena picked up the box and turned it around in her hands.

"There's no obvious way. There must be a hidden latch."

"Maybe it's just a solid piece of wood."

"No, it's too light."

"Try pressing on it."

Selena pressed on one of the sides. It moved in a quarter of an inch and clicked. Nothing else happened. She tried a different side with the same result. On a guess she tried the others as well. Every side did the same thing. The box was still closed.

"It's a puzzle box," she said. "You have to press different sides in the right sequence or you can't open it."

"It can't be that difficult, can it?"

"It's impossible, without knowing the right sequence or number of times to press. The only way we're going to get this open is to cut into it. But I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"We don't really know what's in here, do we? If it is the Grail, how would you like to

be the person responsible for damaging or destroying it?"

"We'll let…" Nick stopped..

"We'll let what?"

"I was going to say we'll let Harker worry about it."

"Let's wait until we get home. Hood may have an idea."

"We'll scan it," Nick said. "Take a look inside without opening the box. That way we'll know if it's the Grail or something else."

Selena set the box down.

"I need to get out of these clothes and take a shower and I need some aspirin. You weren't kidding when you said that jump would be hard on the body. I feel like someone tried to pull my arms off."

Nick came over and put his arms around her. "Not many men have done that jump. You're the only woman. You were terrific."

"Once is enough," she said. "I don't think I want to do it again. And I don't want to visit Syria again anytime soon."

"I'm going to call Hood while you're in the shower."

Selena began undressing. Nick punched in Hood's number.

"Nick. I'm glad you got out all right. Did you find anything?"

"Yes, but we're not sure exactly what it is."

Nick explained about the box.

"Do you think it's the Grail?" Hood asked.

"It could be. The box was under an altar, in a sealed crypt under the church. Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide it there. That crypt hadn't been opened for hundreds of years."

"I understand you had some trouble when you were leaving."

"Without your help we wouldn't have made it out of there. There were too many of them and they were closing in. Good news is there's one less priority target we have to worry about."

"Oh?"

"Abdul Haddad was there. I recognized him from his picture. He was the one who found the box. We got there just in time."

"What happened to him?"

"He made a dumb move. He's still in the crypt under the church."

"It's too bad you couldn't take him alive," Hood said. "We could have questioned him about the bomb."

"We went through his pockets but there wasn't much. Come to think of it, there was a piece of paper with something scrawled on it. I'll have Selena take a look at it and get back to you if it's anything important."

Nick paused. "How is Director Harker?"

"She's still in intensive care. There hasn't been much change. She doesn't wake up."

"A coma?"

"They're starting to call it that. She took a serious blow to the head. The side airbag didn't deploy. Now the only thing is to wait and see if she comes out of it."

"She's a tough lady. She'll pull through."

"I spoke with the president and he's good with you being in charge. You and I need to get together for an intensive briefing when you return. It looks like you'll be running the Project for a while and there are things you ought to know. Come back as soon as you can. My plane is still at Incirlik and at your disposal."

After he'd finished with Hood, Nick pulled off the body armor and winced. Under his shirt was a wide black and purple splotch on his side where the vest had stopped a round.

Better black and blue than dead.

He was sore as hell from the jump. His back ached with constant, electric pain. It was stiffening up fast.

Selena was still in the shower. His back made it hard to bend down but he managed to get his boots off. He undressed and sat down in his shorts, waiting for her to finish. He picked up the box and pressed on it, trying random combinations, listening to the clicks. The box stayed closed.

Selena came out of the shower, drying her hair. She looked at the spreading bruise.

"My, that's impressive. You look like something from Picasso's blue period."

"How the water?"

"One thing about a big base like this, you don't run out of hot water."

"Lamont found a scrap of paper with something written on it in Haddad's pockets. Would you get it from him while I take a shower?"

"Sure."

Nick disappeared into the bathroom. Selena dressed in jeans and a loose top, put on a pair of walking shoes and went to find Lamont.

Nick stood in the shower and let hot water pour down on his back, hoping the knotted muscles would relax.

You're getting too old for this stuff. Maybe sitting at a desk wouldn't be a bad change after all.

He looked down at the dark bruising along his left side, then ran his fingers over the washboard ripple of scar tissue on the other side of his chest.

You're pushing your luck, buddy. It can't last forever..

His inner voice was back, nagging at him. He pushed it away and reached for the soap.

What if it really is the Grail in that box? What does it mean? What am I supposed to do with it? Who's supposed to have it? That tile said only a just man. Are you a just man?

It was a question he couldn't answer. One thing was sure, Haddad had not been a just man. Maybe Simon's prophecy wouldn't play out, now that ISIS couldn't get hold of the cup.

He'd finished dressing by the time Selena came back from Lamont with the contents of Haddad's pockets.

"There's only one word written on that paper," she said. "Athena."

"Athena? Like the Greek goddess?"

"Yes."

"That could mean anything."

"It could be a code name for an operation."

"A fanatic like Haddad wouldn't pick an infidel name for an operation. He'd be more likely to name it something like Allah's Vengeance. Something dramatic."

"It has to mean something. He wouldn't write that down unless it was important. Haddad was a smart guy."

"Until he went for that AK."

"Why don't you give it to Stephanie?" Selena said. "Have her do a search?"

"There are millions of references to Athena out there."

"She could eliminate anything that had to do with classical history or works of art, that sort of thing."

"That would narrow it down. Good idea. Let me give her a call."

Steph picked up on the first ring.

"Hi, Nick."

"Hi, Steph. How's Junior?"

"Asleep, thank God. Burps is protecting him. The cat won't leave his side."

"He could do worse, believe me. I need you to do a search for me."

Nick told her what he wanted.

"I can't promise anything useful," she said.

"This guy wasn't thinking about statues on the Acropolis when he wrote this. The more I think about it, the more it feels important. Just do the best you can."

"I'll get on it right away. When are you coming home?"

"As soon as Hood's pilot has the Gulfstream ready."

CHAPTER 57

Rashid Jaffari stood on the bow of the Athena and looked out over the rolling surface of the Atlantic. So far it had been a smooth journey, except for squalls in the gulf as they'd left Turkey. Now the ship was more than halfway to America without running into any serious weather. At the moment it was sunny, but late October on the Atlantic Ocean meant that Rashid wore a heavy jacket and woolen watch cap against the cold and the wind.

The Athena was an old ship and slow, not long for the scrap yard. Streaks of rust ran down her sides. Her ancient engines struggled to push through the heavy swell. A serious storm could sink her. Her captain had been keeping an uneasy eye on the weather reports. It was late in the year, but hurricane season wasn't yet over.

For the first three days of the voyage Jaffari was seasick, unable to keep anything down. Then his equilibrium returned and the sickness left him. His mind was free to imagine what would happen when the bomb went off in the enemy city of Savannah.

He'd decided not to try and take the device inland. American customs officers could be efficient if they chose. Rashid had no illusions that the packaging around the bomb would stand up to close scrutiny, but a thorough customs inspection wouldn't take place until they were docked. Once in port, he would detonate the bomb.

Savannah was a critical hub for American commerce. Major rail, land, sea and air networks all came together in the city. With Savannah gone, American trade and shipping infrastructure would be crippled. The bomb would obliterate everything for a radius of several miles. Anything left would be covered with a lethal dose of plutonium radiation for a thousand years or more. For all practical purposes much of Georgia and the Southeast would cease to be livable.

Allah would be pleased.

CHAPTER 58

Stephanie sat at her console, watching streams of data flow across the screen. It was amazing how many articles, pictures and references existed about Athena. She'd programmed a series of filters to eliminate most of it, but there were still thousands of entries.

Nick had called her from somewhere over the Atlantic. She'd had nothing for him.

"Why is Athena important?" she'd asked.

"It was written on a piece of paper we found in Haddad's pocket."

"Haddad? As in Abdul, our spymaster?"

"Right, you don't know what happened."

Nick told her about finding the box and the encounter with Haddad.

"That scrap of paper was the only thing on him except for a phony passport and some currency. It has to mean something. It might be the code name of an operation but like I told Selena, that doesn't feel right."

"It could refer to an object or a place, something named Athena."

"He must have written it down, stuffed it in his pocket and forgotten about it. I can't shake the feeling it's important."

"Freddie is working on it as we speak."

Stephanie named all of her computers. Freddie was her favorite, a maxed out Cray that was her pride and joy.

"Good old Freddie," Nick said. "Anything new from the hospital?"

"Nothing's changed. She's still unconscious. But her brain is active and that's a good sign."

"I could use a good sign about now," Nick said. "I'll be back in about four hours."

After he'd disconnected, Stephanie had thought about what he'd said. Putting Haddad into the equation narrowed the search. They'd been running across ISIS at almost every step of the way on this mission. If Haddad's plans involved something named Athena, it had to be high priority for ISIS.

Think like the enemy, Steph thought. If I'm running ISIS, what do I want to do? What do I want to accomplish?

The answer didn't require much thought. Annihilate the infidel and raise the black flag over the entire world. Islamic fanaticism had only one goal in mind. Stephanie couldn't believe there were still people who refused to see the reality of that goal and acknowledge the hatred aimed at achieving it. But then again, reality had never been popular if it conflicted with belief. In this case, far too many people wanted to believe only in the positive aspects of Islam without looking at its dark side. All they had to do was study history to see that the cancerous aberration of ISIS was nothing new.

Annihilate the infidel.

Trying to pin down the ISIS connection to Athena was worse than trying to find one particular grain of sand on a beach.

She needed to come up with new assumptions if she wanted to find anything useful.

Okay, start assuming. Assumption number one is that Haddad wouldn't have that in his pocket if it didn't mean something. Assumption number two is that it has to be important because of his role in ISIS. Assumption number three is…What is assumption number three?

She sat back in her chair and glanced over at her sleeping child.

What's the most important thing we need to know right now, about ISIS?

That was easy. If they had a bomb, where was it and what were they going to do with it? Thanks to Adam, they knew the answer to the second part. They'd set it off somewhere in America.

Assumption number three is that first they have to get it here.

She didn't think they had a way to fly it in. ISIS had captured some planes when they overran parts of Iraq, but they didn't have anything that could reach America.

You couldn't just put the bomb in a box and ship it FedEx. It had to be reasonably large, possibly leaking radiation that could be detected when it entered the country. You weren't going to fly here on a commercial plane with the bomb conveniently checked into baggage. She supposed you might be able to get it overland through Europe and into England. But then they'd still have to move it from there to America.

Across the ocean.

A ship! It has to be a ship. There can't be any other way they could get it here. If it's a ship, it's registered somewhere. If it's not registered, that's a problem I can't beat. But if it is, there's a record of any ports of call and I can find it.

Her fingers flew over her keyboard, changing the search filters she was using.

An hour and a half later she had the answer.

CHAPTER 59

Nick drove to Virginia and found Stephanie sitting at Elizabeth's desk. The baby was on the couch. Burps lay on the next cushion. He looked up as Nick came in.

"Mrreow."

Nick walked over and scratched him behind the ears. Stephanie got up from the desk.

"I didn't mean to take over your desk," she said.

"It's still Harker's desk," Nick said. "Did you find out anything about Athena?"

"Do you know how many references there are to the goddess Athena?"

"No. A lot."

"Sometimes I wonder how anybody figured anything out before we had computers. Without those Crays downstairs crunching data, I wouldn't have gotten anywhere."

"Does that mean you got somewhere?"

"I hope so. I made an assumption that the word 'Athena' was somehow related to the nuke ISIS obtained."

"Go on."

"We know they want to set it off here. I asked myself, how do you get a bomb here from Syria? The answer is, it has to come by ship. There isn't any other way for them to transport something like that without being detected. I looked for any ship named Athena that had recently left a port somewhere in the middle east. Guess what?"

Her voice was edged with excitement.

"Son of a bitch. You found one."

"Yes. A freighter. Athena left Turkey five days ago, headed for Savannah. She's somewhere in the Atlantic."

"Steph, that's great work."

"I could be wrong. It's all based on the assumption that the word 'Athena' and the bomb go together."

"It's a hell of a lot better than anything else we've got," Nick said. "I'll get Hood on it. If that ship's out there, we'll find it. If it's got that bomb on board, we'll sink it."

"It could just be bringing olives or dates or something," Stephanie said.

"Maybe. We've got technology that can smell a radioactive date from twenty thousand feet," Nick said. "If you're right, we'll find it."

"I'm going downstairs to feed the baby. Let me know if you need anything."

"Great work," Nick said again. "I'll call Hood now."

Hood answered on the second ring.

"Nick."

"Director, we may have something."

He explained about the slip of paper in Haddad's pocket and what Stephanie had discovered.

"It's a long shot but it's better than no shot at all."

"It makes sense," Hood said. "We're not talking about something you can carry in a suitcase."

"I'd be surprised if there wasn't some kind of radioactive signature," Nick said. "If we can find that ship, we can do a flyover and see if we can pick anything up."

"Even if we don't, we can intercept and board her. There's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"We have to find her, first."

CHAPTER 60

Two days later, they still hadn't located Athena. They knew she was headed for Savannah, but it was a big ocean. The shipping lanes weren't marked with nice white lines. For all they knew, she wasn't following a conventional path. Besides, she was a tramp steamer. She could have stopped off in any one of half a dozen places before setting out across the Atlantic. Satellite overpasses and surveillance flights by the Air Force had failed to turn up the ship.

Nick sat at Elizabeth's desk and found himself drumming his fingers on the wooden top. It was uncanny, almost as if whoever sat there was channeling her energy. She was still in a coma. Her EKG was stable but that was the only positive sign. They'd had to take her back into surgery to relieve pressure on her brain, where fluid had built up from the injury. Now there was nothing more to do but wait and see if she woke up.

The rest of the team was in the room. The box they'd found in Syria rested on the desk in front of him.

"When are we going to get a look inside that box?" Lamont asked. "Hell, I'm dyin' of curiosity."

"We all are," Nick said. "I've been focused on this search for the Athena."

"It says a lot about the way the world has changed," Selena said.

"What do you mean?"

"That box may contain the most sacred relic in Christianity. A thousand years ago no one would have hesitated to get it open. But we're worried about a bunch of lunatics with a nuclear bomb instead."

"It's a question of priorities," Nick said.

"That's what I mean about how the world has changed," Selena said. "People have lost a sense of spiritual things, things that inspire all that's good in the world. The Grail is one of those things. Maybe our priorities are wrong."

Nick was about to say something when his phone signaled a call from Hood.

"Yes, Director."

"Please call me Clarence, Nick. I hear director all the time. That's not why I called. We've spotted Athena."

Nick pumped his fist in the air. "Yes!"

He turned on the speaker. "They found Athena," he said to the others. "Director, uh, Clarence, I put you on speaker so the others can hear."

"The good news is that we found her," Hood said. "The bad news is that she's thirty miles offshore, headed straight for Savannah. I would've preferred to find her farther out in case something goes wrong. I've talked with Rice about what to do."

"What did he say?"

"He wants to board her. She's well within our waters and there's nothing she can do about it. The Coast Guard is heading for her right now with two SEAL teams on board. With a little luck this will all be over in an hour."

"It might be smarter to sink her before she gets any closer," Nick said.

On the couch, Lamont and Ronnie were nodding.

"I argued for that with Rice," Hood said. "He was adamant that we don't do that. He's not convinced she's anything more than what she appears to be. I can see his point. If we sink a civilian ship because we think it's got a bomb on board without proof, we'll be vilified by the international community. Accused of war crimes."

"What else is new?" Nick said. "Three quarters of the UN wants to try the last ten presidents for war crimes. Hell, if they could get away with it, they'd indict Eisenhower. As far as I'm concerned they can take their hypocritical bullshit and shove it."

"I happen to agree with you," Hood said, "but Rice is running the show. We'll board her and see what we find. Tell Stephanie to access Odin. You can watch the intercept live."

Stephanie was already tapping keys on her laptop. The monitor on the wall lit with a live satellite shot of a small ship moving across the ocean. Stephanie zoomed in and the Athena filled most of the screen.

"Got it," Nick said. "How long until intercept?"

"About twenty minutes."

"I can see a radar array on the Athena. She'll pick up the Coast Guard coming in."

"Nothing I can do about that," Hood said. "It won't necessarily spook her. The Coast Guard routinely stops ships approaching our shores, for a lot of reasons. They won't know it's anything unusual until the SEALS board her."

"You got that right," Lamont said.

"That had to be Lamont," Hood said.

At Langley, someone said something in the background.

"I have to go, Nick."

Hood disconnected.

CHAPTER 61

Rashid Jaffari finished the afternoon prayer in his cabin.

Soon, Lord, soon I will see your face.

He got up and folded his prayer rug. He paused for a moment as he held it, remembering the day his father had given him the rug and taken him to the mosque for the first time. He set the rug down on top of the bomb and went out on deck.

In the distance, the coast of the far enemy was coming near. He could smell the land, even here, almost thirty miles offshore. By the time Athena had taken on a pilot and docked, it would be early evening. The night breeze from the ocean would have started, in time to carry the radioactive fallout far inland.

In his pocket he carried a remote detonator to trigger the bomb. He'd told the crewmen who carried it to his cabin that it contained all his personal possessions. They thought he was emigrating to America. It was all the same to them. Most of the crew was Greek. They could care less about one more escapee fleeing from the chaos of the Middle East.

Only the captain and one of his mates spoke any Arabic. Now the captain came down from the bridge and joined Jaffari. Rashid tried not to show his distaste. The man reeked of ouzo and cigars. As far as Rashid could tell, Captain Nikos was usually half drunk by three in the afternoon. It was already well after four.

He won't find any ouzo in hell, Rashid thought.

A ship appeared on the near horizon, heading toward them with white water curling past her bow. It was still several miles away. Nicos gestured at the approaching vessel.

"U.S. Coast Guard. They will stop us and ask to see our papers."

Jaffari remained calm. "Will they search the ship?"

"No. I have been here many times. They know the ship, they know I do not bring drugs or things that are illegal. They will ask for the manifest, they will make little checkmarks in their boxes and then they will go away."

"Is it usual for them to stop ships like this?"

"Yes, especially someone like us coming from a Muslim country. Since what they call 9/11, their security has increased. It is the way of the Americans. It is understandable, given what happened."

After today, their security will increase again, Jaffari thought.

Captain Nikos took out a cheap cigar and lit it. The smoke drifted across the deck. The two men leaned on the railing and watched the Coast Guard ship come closer.

When the cutter was within hailing distance, an officer with a bullhorn hailed them.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Michaels of the United States Coast Guard. Heave to and prepare to be boarded for inspection."

Rashid eyed the ship. Something didn't feel right. All her guns were trained on the Athena, including the aft deck gun.

The crew of the cutter lowered two Zodiacs into the water, each carrying six men. The men didn't look like sailors and they were armed. They looked hard, as if they had seen and done more than they would've wanted.

Rashid felt the detonator in his pocket. A stiff breeze had sprung up, drawn by the heat of the landmass ahead. If he had to detonate the bomb, the breeze would carry the fallout to land. Perhaps it would be enough. But he would wait until he was certain they were going to search the ship.

In Virginia, Nick and the others were glued to the monitor as the drama unfolded. The cutter and Athena were hove to and bobbing up and down in the choppy swell, separated by thirty or forty yards. On the deck of the freighter, crewmen had gathered by the rail to watch. Two Zodiacs went into the water.

"There go the SEALS," Lamont said.

The image from the satellite was clear and crisp. Odin was the latest in satellite surveillance technology, sent up without public fanfare only eight months before. Now it was earning its keep.

Stephanie zoomed in on one of the men on Athena's deck, watching the zodiacs approach. He wore a woolen watch cap. He had a full beard. He looked up suddenly, as though he could sense the eye in the sky watching him. Stephanie drew in a breath.

"I recognize him," she said. "His name is Rashid Jaffari. He's a physicist, one of Saddam's scientists. He was working on building a nuclear bomb."

Nick picked up his phone and called Hood.

"Director, you see that guy on the deck of the Athena with the cap and the beard?"

"Yes."

"His name is Jaffari. He's a bomb maker. That nuke has got to be on board. Better give the captain of that cutter a heads up."

"On it," Hood said. Nick left the connection open.

On the monitor screen, the Zodiacs had reached the side of Athena. Someone had lowered boarding stairs on the side. The first of the SEALS started up the steps.

"In the name of Allah, the Magnificent…"

Jaffari triggered the detonator in his pocket.

The screen blanked out in a sudden blast of white that overwhelmed the camera.

"Oh my God," Stephanie said.

"Jesus," Lamont said.

The satellite image reappeared on the screen. Streaks and spots distorted the picture but there was no mistaking the mushroom cloud rising from the surface of the ocean. Of the Athena, the Coast Guard ship and the Zodiacs, there was no sign. A huge plume of seawater rose into the air and collapsed back onto the surface of the ocean.

A towering, foaming, wave rolled out in a perfect circle from the point of the blast.

They stared in silence as the wave moved toward land.

Nick gripped the phone in his hand. His knuckles had turned white.

"Director, are you still there?"

Hood's voice was grim. "Yes, I'm here."

"That wave is headed toward Savannah," Nick said. "We have to warn them."

"I'll take care of it." Hood disconnected.

"He was almost to Savannah," Selena said. "If he'd gotten into port…"

She left the rest unspoken.

CHAPTER 62

The man-made tsunami from Jaffari's bomb had been forty feet high when it reached shore. The port of Savannah was heavily damaged, most of the city's facilities destroyed. Thousands were homeless, hundreds were dead, thousands more were injured.

Then came what many were calling the Miracle of the Wind. The cloud of radioactive fallout was blown out to sea by a storm front that suddenly appeared out of nowhere and moved in from the west. No one knew what the long-term effects on the ocean would be.

Savannah was deeply injured, but she would survive.

The days after the bomb were filled with half-truths, rumors and rage. Everyone wanted an explanation. With few facts to work with, the media turned to speculation and accusation.

Blame was assigned to any convenient enemy. Russia and Iran topped the list. The White House fended off questions with standard responses that did nothing to ease the tension. If Rice admitted it had been an ISIS plot, the country would be forced into all out war against the Islamic State. That was guaranteed to lead to a broader conflict.

The story was put out that the explosion was an accident, caused by a failed attempt to defuse a nuclear mine that had drifted from its mooring. Where the mine had come from or who it belonged to was never quite clear. The media turned its attention to questions about why there were nuclear mines in the first place. Protesters appeared on Pennsylvania Avenue by the thousands.

Two days after the bomb Nick and the others were in a lab at Langley with Clarence Hood. The lab had a scanner and a CIA technician named Edwards to run it. Nick gave the box to the tech to put in the device. Everyone wanted to know what was inside. No one had been able to open it.

"All set, Director," the tech said

"Turn it on."

Edwards turned on the machine. The interior of the box appeared in blacks and grays and shadows on a wall monitor. The shape inside the box was distinctive, darker than the rest of the image, about nine or ten inches long.

"It's a cup," Selena said, "like a big egg cup. I really didn't believe it until now."

"You can see the locking mechanism for the box," Nick said, "all those sliding pieces and gears. I was hoping we'd be able to figure it out when we saw how it worked, but that looks hopeless."

"We could cut into it with a laser," the tech said. "I can set one up if you like."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Nick said.

"Why not?" Hood asked.

"I can't explain it, but I have a strong feeling that's the wrong thing to do. We should wait before we do anything else."

"You think it's booby-trapped? Rice wants to know if it's the Grail."

"He's waited this long, he can wait a little longer. Tell him it's a cup. Tell him we're concerned it might be destroyed if we force the box open."

"I don't see anything that looks like a trap," Edwards said.

Hood held up his hand. "Actually, you haven't seen anything. Not the box, not anything that might be in it. Remember the papers you signed when you began working here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He turned to Nick. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to take it with me and think about it."

"I can stall Rice for another day or two, but after that he's going to want that box on his desk, not yours."

"I understand. Just give me a little time. There's something about this, I can feel it."

"Intuition? Elizabeth has always relied on her intuition and it usually works out. I suppose I can cut you the same leeway."

"If I can't come up with something in the next two days, I'll hand it over to you and you can take it from there."

"Fair enough."

Outside Langley, the team stood together in the parking lot. Nick took a deep breath. It was the first day of November. His birthday was coming soon. He wasn't looking forward to being another year older.

"There aren't any fires to put out at the moment," he said. "We all need a break. It's Thursday today. Come in Monday and we'll talk about how things will work with Harker out of the picture."

"Sure thing, Kemo Sabe," Ronnie said.

"How about we get together for pizza on Saturday night?" Lamont said.

Ronnie shook his head and sighed.

"Do you ever think about anything except food?"

"Man's got to eat," Lamont said.

CHAPTER 63

Nick drove back with Selena to their loft. A black Cadillac limousine idled on the street in front of the building.

"That figures," Nick said.

Selena looked at the car waiting there. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Yup. Looks like it."

"Do I get to meet him?"

"Nobody meets him. I haven't met him. He's a voice behind a piece of black glass."

Nick drove into the underground parking garage. They got out.

"I'm going with you," Selena said.

Nick picked up the box with the cup. They walked up to the first floor and out the main entrance to where Adam's car waited. The chauffeur stood by the rear door.

"I'm very sorry, Doctor. Only Nick, please."

"She gets in with me or we're going upstairs."

"It's all right, Nick. Don't worry about it. It's just the way it is. I'll be upstairs"

The chauffeur touched his ear. Then he opened the door.

Nick climbed in and the door closed. A minute later, the car began to move. Adam's electronically distorted voice came over the speaker.

"Good morning, Nick. I see you have brought the Grail with you."

"Then it is the Grail," Nick said. "The real deal."

"Oh yes, as you say, the real deal. Within that box is the cup held by Joseph of Arimathea at the crucifixion of Jesus."

"We haven't been able to open it."

"Are you sure you want to see what's in the box? Things change when one is permitted to view the Grail."

"Of course I want to see it. Lots of people got killed looking for it. There's a lot of blood on this box."

"That is the nature of life. Some things require sacrifice."

"Spare me the backseat philosophy," Nick said. "Good men died for this. I don't think they intended to be a sacrifice."

"Not consciously, perhaps. Sometimes there is a deeper purpose at work that goes beyond what we recognize at an outer level. It motivates us at unexpected moments to do unexpected things."

"Are you saying we're not in control of our lives?"

"Do you honestly think you're in control?"

"Within a reasonable limit, sure. Maybe I can't control things like natural disasters and crazy political leaders who start a war, but in the actions of my life, yes. I have responsibility for what happens to me."

"Responsibility and control are not the same thing," Adam said. "You are a very responsible man, Nick, otherwise you would not have been chosen for the tasks that have been set to you."

"Set by who? What do you mean?"

Nick felt the wooden box in his lap move. With a series of clicks the top lifted up and the sides fell away. Nick looked down. The Grail lay inside, on a bed of pure, red silk.

The limousine vanished.

He was standing in a large crowd, all of them looking at something. Some in the crowd seemed angry, others were crying. He was dressed in a course woolen robe that reached almost to his feet. He looked down in confusion. Instead of shoes, he wore leather sandals.

What the hell?

He looked up and saw where he was.

Not possible. This isn't possible.

He was on the Hill of Golgotha. Three crosses rose against an ominous, darkening sky.

Not possible, he thought again. This can't be happening.

His eyes moved to the central figure, slumped in agony, head dropped forward onto his chest. A group had gathered at the foot of the cross. A man dressed in fine clothes held up a cup to catch the blood dripping down.

Sudden warmth exploded in Nick's chest, like a sun bursting open. He looked at the man dying on the cross and a great wave of sadness swept over him. Unbidden tears ran down his cheeks.

His life started to unfold before his eyes. He watched himself being born, watched the boy he had been growing up, the anguish with his father, the fear and sadness of his mother. He saw all the people he'd ever loved or hated, remembered thoughtless decisions he'd made that had caused people pain, moments of kindness he'd managed to scrape together. He couldn't control it. It was as though someone had pulled a plug and he was draining away through it.

The world as he knew it crumbled away as he watched. What he thought he believed in. Who he thought he was. Why he was doing the things he was doing.

It felt as though he'd fallen off a cliff.

When it stopped, he didn't know how long he'd been sitting there in the back of that car. He felt exposed, shaken to the core. The box on his lap was closed. The Grail was no longer visible. He took a deep breath and exhaled. His face was wet.

"Do you understand now?"

Adam's voice was gentle.

"No. Yes. I'm not sure."

"You don't need to analyze it," Adam said. "In time, it will work its way into your life."

"I'm not religious," Nick said.

"You don't have to be religious to experience what just happened. The intensity will fade, but you will never forget. That is what is important."

"I feel different," Nick said.

"I told you things would change if you saw the Grail."

The drawer in the compartment divider slid open.

"Please," Adam said.

Nick put the box in the drawer. It slid closed and in a moment opened again. The box was still there.

"You don't want to take it?" Nick asked.

"That is not the same box," Adam said. "It appears to be identical and if it is scanned, it will look the same. But if someone attempts to open it by force it will break into pieces, along with the cup inside it. Give it back to Director Hood. There's no need to tell him it's not the one you brought back from Syria."

Nick held it up. "It looks exactly the same."

"Yes it does, doesn't it? With that you will avoid a lot of unanswerable questions and satisfy the needs of your president to know that the Grail has been recovered."

Nick thought for a moment. "I don't know what to tell Selena."

"You'll know what to say when the time comes."

The car came to a halt. In a moment the passenger door opened.

"Goodbye, Nick."

He was back in front of his building. Everything seemed bathed in light, brighter, clearer to him. He got out of the car. The chauffeur closed the door and got back in.

Nick stood on the sidewalk and watched the Cadillac disappear in the distance.

NOTES

Many of the places described in these pages are real. Sumela monastery is now a tourist attraction. Mor Gabriel is still a functioning Syriac monastery and is under immense pressure from the Turkish government to give up most of its property.

Darraya is under siege at the time of this writing and may have fallen by the time this book reaches your hands. The hidden library is real and was created by students as a place of refuge and learning with materials salvaged from the ruins of what was once a beautiful city. As far as I know, the library is not located under the ruins of a Syriac church, nor is there a hidden crypt containing a mysterious box at that location.

The legend of the Grail is woven into the collective fabric of the Christian West. Whether the cup exists or not, it is an enduring symbol of the power of something greater than ourselves that exists beyond our limited perception. The Grail can point the way to healing of mind and spirit, regardless of our individual religious beliefs.

The story of King Arthur, his Knights, and their quest for the Grail emerged in the Middle Ages. It was a dark time in history. Life expectancy was short. Violence and death were always waiting, whether you were rich or poor. Nothing was certain, nothing was secure.

The tale of King Arthur and the Grail is a spiritual teaching, encouraging us to seek the nurturing source of spirit. It was also darn good entertainment back then, sitting around the fire and listening to the minstrel. The story has it all. Love, hate, courageous deeds, fearsome enemies, burdensome duties, incest, betrayal and lust; all can be found in the legend. All of it centered around the quest for redemption and healing.

I hope you have enjoyed this book.

Alex Lukeman

August, 2016

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My wife, Gayle, as always.

Thanks to Neil Jackson for another excellent cover.

Finally, thanks to you, the reader.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alex Lukeman writes action/adventure thrillers featuring a covert intelligence unit called the PROJECT. Alex is a former Marine and psychotherapist and uses his experience of the military and human nature to inform his work. He likes riding old, fast motorcycles and playing guitar, usually not at the same time. You can email him at alex@alexlukeman.com. He loves hearing from readers and promises he will get back to you.

http://www.alexlukeman.com

Content

Alex Lukeman
The Cup

PROLOGUE: Milan, 395 CE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 62

CHAPTER 63

NOTES

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR