Legacy (36 page)

“Yes, Colonel Collins.”

Jack watched as Europa started blowing the photo up into larger sections, scrambling and then descrambling the image. It finally locked on the area Jack had interest in.

“I’ll be damned,” Pete said, as the image cleared. “It was there the whole time. All we needed was a magnifying glass.”

Collins saw the silverfish-looking cross on the colonel’s left lapel.

“A priest?”

“Europa, is there any record of religious personnel stationed at Spandau?” Jack asked, starting to put a face on his developing theory.

Europa started sending a series of differing faces across the screen, pushing each photo into the upper left corner of the monitor with names and ranks and service country. The only country not represented was the Soviet Union, for obvious reasons. The man in the original photo wasn’t among those listed.

“We have two Catholic priests, three Episcopal priests, and five Baptist ministers listed as being assigned Spandau duties in that one year, but still nothing on the man in the photo.”

Jack placed his hands on Pete’s shoulders as he tried to think. Then he had an idea.

“Europa, Spandau Prison didn’t start housing prisoners of war until 1946, but there had to be a transition team stationed at that facility during the trial for preparations for criminal transfer. Is there a list of personnel that interviewed each prisoner before being transferred from Nuremberg?”

Europa only took a second to delve into U.S. Army, British and French forces, and Soviet legal personnel files before a long list appeared.

“Come on Europa, follow along,” Pete scolded the system, “please break the list down to American religious personnel or counselors.”

Europa didn’t respond; it was as if Pete had hurt her feelings as the photos and file names started dropping from the screen. They were left with two pictures, one a captain who was assigned as a Roman Catholic priest and the other a Baptist minister from Gillette, Wyoming, Lieutenant Colonel William T. Rawlins. The pictures from 1947 matched. The reason Rawlins wasn’t listed as being stationed at Spandau was because all he had done was examine and interview each prisoner before their arrival at the prison as to their religious needs. He had only been at Spandau for the one day as the prisoners arrived, and that was when the picture of the new staff was taken.

“That name is very familiar,” Ellenshaw and Pete said at almost the same time.

“Almost as familiar as the man’s face, wouldn’t you say?” Jack asked as he leaned over and instead of asking Europa a question, he typed it in with the keyboard.

As Golding and Ellenshaw watched the monitor, a videotaped segment flashed onto the screen and both scientists were amazed at what Jack had figured out before they themselves had even asked the right question.

“Unbelievable,” Ellenshaw said.

“You mean to say that the man here, this Samuel Rawlins, the evangelist, is this colonel’s son?” Pete asked with incredulity etching his voice.

“Yes,” Jack said. “And also the man that is most vociferous and adamant about us not going to the Moon.”

“What are you suggesting here, Colonel?” Ellenshaw asked.

Collins sat up straight and watched the soundless image on the monitor as the man on the world stage slammed his fists into the pulpit and screamed about something they couldn’t hear, but Jack knew the man’s tirade was directed at the president and the men and women attempting the excursion to the lunar surface, and that possibly meant Sarah and his two men. He watched the man as he delivered his words. Pete reached out and was about to turn up the volume but Collins stayed his hand and just watched the gesturing of the Reverend as he spoke.

“I believe we are looking at the man whose father discovered the truth and the whereabouts of Operation Columbus, and passed along not only the secrets of seven hundred million years ago, but also the reason why it was in their best interest to cover it up.”

“Wait,” Pete said turning around to look at Jack. “You’re saying that this man knows where the artifacts from 1945 are buried?”

“No, I’m saying he and his father own the land where the artifacts are buried. And not only that, I believe our good friend McCabe is working for him.”

“He is one of the five richest men in the world,” Ellenshaw offered.

“A lot to protect if people saw Columbus and its artifacts as an alternative to the Genesis account in the Bible,” Collins said as he finally looked away from the silver-haired man on the monitor.

“But, Colonel, religion is all faith-based, that shouldn’t have a bearing on what people perceive as threats to their beliefs,” Pete countered. “Besides, seven hundred million years ago would have thrown off the evolutionary scale somewhat. I mean, come on, that’s a long time before the birth of the dinosaurs to the coming of the mammals.”

“Normally, yes, you’re right. The more forward-thinking religions are not frightened by new discoveries and theories; after all, they believe that God created everything, even you two.”

Ellenshaw nodded his head in agreement but Pete still wasn’t convinced.

“Pete, we need to get this to Niles so he can talk to the president. I think the FBI should be brought into this as soon as possible before this maniac attempts another attack.”

Pete agreed and was about to send a message through Europa to Niles Compton when Everett called from the front.

“Jack, this doesn’t look good, we have company.”

Pete, Ellenshaw, and Collins looked out the nearest window and saw men running down the portable staircase attached to the plane next to theirs. Jack cursed just as the aircraft’s engines started to whine. He was about to shout toward the cockpit when the first bullets struck the fuselage and the window they were looking through exploded inward, sending glass and plastic into the cabin.

*   *   *

As quickly as the shooting started, it stopped. Everett had sealed the door only to realize that the copilot was still outside.

Jack chanced a peek through one of the windows, then he noticed something that gave him pause as he tried to figure out what was different. The angle of the aircraft had changed. It was a small but perceptible difference.

“Jack, if I didn’t know any better—” Everett started to say.

“They shot our tires out on the right side.”

Everett looked back from the doorway just as the pilot, hunched over in case they received any more gunfire, duck-walked down the aisle.

“I just shut the engines down, Colonel. We’re not going anywhere. We lost the tires on the right side and the nose wheel.”

“Take cover,” Collins said. “We’re not exactly sure who we’re dealing with here.” He ducked his head into the communications room. “You two, stay down,” he said to Golding and Ellenshaw, who had anticipated the order and were already hidden underneath the radio console.

“Jack, we have movement on the left side of the plane. Wait, it looks like Sebastian. Damn, he has his hands up and he’s speaking with someone. Crap, I think they’re German SWAT.”

Collins hunched as low as he could and joined Everett on the left side of the 727. He chanced a quick look and saw that, indeed, Sebastian had his hands raised in the air. His eyes narrowed as he saw the black Nomex uniform and the gold German lettering on the back that said “Polizei.”

“Mr. Everett, I think we’ve been had.”

“Colonel Collins, I wholeheartedly agree with your assessment. You think your friend set us up?”

“No, it’s not in him. I think he’s trying save our lives.”

As Jack spoke, Sebastian handed over his automatic weapon and accepted a bullhorn from the police officer. He took a few steps toward the plane and then held the device to his mouth.

“Colonel Collins, I am to inform you that your aircraft has been disabled and that you are surrounded.” Sebastian glanced over at the man watching him closely. “The Berlin police are guaranteeing your safety if you and your men exit the aircraft.” Sebastian lowered the bullhorn and took another five steps toward the plane. He looked up at the darkened windows. “There’s nothing I can do for you now, Jack. Give up and we’ll work at getting you out of custody, even if I have to go to the chancellor myself.”

Jack cursed under his breath and then glanced back at Golding and Ellenshaw.

“Pete, you and the Doc have exactly thirty seconds to destroy that motherboard in the computer link. Set up a tapeworm or whatever you do, but make sure no one can get into Europa from this end.”

“Yes, Colonel,” Pete said as he reached up and pulled the laptop down to his level and started typing commands.

“Aren’t we going to fight?” Ellenshaw said, with as much bravado as he could muster.

“They’re cops, Doc,” Collins said, holding out his hand. “We don’t shoot cops. Now give me that gun you’re trying to hide. These boys will not hesitate to shoot your skinny ass to pieces.”

Ellenshaw angrily reached for his nine-millimeter. Then, as if he were letting a favored relative go to his doom, he slid the weapon across the aisle toward Jack.

“Okay, Everett, open that emergency door.”

Everett stood, safed his own weapon, and turned the handle to the door, cracking it open. Then he tossed the nine-millimeter out onto the steel steps. Jack tossed him his and Ellenshaw’s weapons and Carl tossed his out also.

“Now, Doc, give me Pete’s weapon, the one you have on you, before I toss you out on the tarmac.” Jack turned and looked at the shocked Ellenshaw.

Charlie angrily safed Pete’s weapon and then tossed it to Collins.

“I told you he wouldn’t forget,” Pete said as he kept typing in commands. “Done, Colonel. The memory is totally clean,” Pete said as he lowered the laptop and hit enter.

Jack stood and went to the door. He tossed the last weapon out through the crack as Everett held it open.

“Is the arrest warrant for me only?” Jack called through the door.

“The major here says he has warrants for all of you, even the pilot and copilot. Jack, we’ll get you out of this. You have my word.”

Collins nodded and Everett held the door open as the colonel stepped outside into the night with hands raised. Everett, Pete, the pilot, engineer, and then Ellenshaw, looking like a crazed old-time gangster, followed.

The Event Group’s mission to Germany had been stopped dead in its tracks as the angry Berlin police took the men into custody.

Half a mile away, the Mechanic lowered his glasses and shook his head. He felt that the outcome, while acceptable, was far from an assurance that this American was out of the picture. This man Collins seemed to have nine lives. He watched as the Americans were roughly searched by the police for hidden weapons. While Collins was on the ground, his head turned toward the darkness and the Mechanic was surprised. It was if Collins was staring right at the shadowy position where he stood.

“You do know I am here,” the Mechanic whispered to himself. “Don’t you, my friend?”

CHURCH OF THE TRUE FAITH, LONG BEACH, CALIFORNIA

“Amen!” declared Reverend Rawlins. “And may the will of God prevail!”

He mopped the sweat from his brow and took a deep breath and turned away from the congregation.

Standing in the wings were his two daughters, the younger of whom came out on cue as the music started playing and the choir began to sing. The older, Laurel, watched her father as he clapped his hands and began ascending to where she stood. He clapped and smiled until he reached her and then accepted his usual towel and glass of sparkling water. He drank deeply as he wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

“So, did you learn anything from your little trip?” he asked softly, hiding his anger at the lack of success in Germany. The death toll should have been much higher, and the man who had been framed for the attack wasn’t dead, only under arrest.

“It’s not what I learned, it’s what I saw,” Laurel said. She turned and stepped away from her father.

“And that is?” he asked, giving the empty glass away and accepting the robe as it was placed over his shoulders. He nodded his head to indicate that the young girl who was acting as his valet that night could leave his presence. The music in the cathedral was rising to a deafening crescendo.

Laurel stepped toward her father and tied the belt of his robe tightly around his waist.

“That we are not being aggressive enough. James and his intricate plan will only slow down the attempts at getting to the Moon, not stop them, as was proved today. One of the Chinese missions may still succeed.”

“I think two out of three is acceptable.” He looked down at his daughter, who was holding his blue eyes with her own. “McCabe is doing exceptionally well, and I would have thought you would have given your lover far more credit.”

Laurel turned away and watched her little sister’s unbridled enthusiasm as she led the final moments of the worship service.

“We need a far more dramatic statement than shooting down a bunch of rockets that have just as much chance at failure at takeoff as we have of shooting them down.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You said it yourself not a few days ago. We need to eliminate the driving force, at least on the American side.”