The Aleppo Code (The Jerusalem Prophecies) (40 page)

Son of the tobacco shop owner, Achmed bent over and reached into the SUV. He stood back up with an automatic pistol in one hand and an encrypted, multiband radio in the other. He stuffed the radio into his shirt pocket. “Keep circling on the main streets. I’ll go through the alleys, hopefully get behind them. If you see them, call.”

Whalen led Atkins, double time, north, away from the Ishtar Gate and Procession Street, perpendicular to the direction taken by Bohannon’s crew. He planned to loop east, hoping to flank and get in front of both Bohannon and the SUVs that were looking for them. His gamble was no one would be looking for the cavalry coming from the east. He hoped.

“Go ahead.”

Annie nodded toward the opening. They crouched inside a small room with a narrow, empty doorway that opened onto a wide, open space. Just beyond was Procession Street. Tom put his hand on his wife’s arm, gave it a little squeeze, and scrambled to the edge of the door.

At well-spaced intervals, diffused, indirect light came from behind the walls of Procession Street, keeping the street in twilight, not penetrating far beyond. Staying in the shadows inside the door, Tom had a limited view to the east or west along Procession Street, but he could make out where they were. He had reviewed several photos on the Internet. They were slightly east of Nebuchadnezzar’s palace, which was essentially just a huge, flat, empty square with massive ruined walls on three sides. Bohannon leaned into the wall to look farther west and saw something he didn’t expect.

He twisted his head and examined the inside of the room he occupied. In a far corner was the remnant of stairs that once led to the roof. Hunched over, he trotted to the stairs, climbed halfway, and poked his head up like a periscope breaking the waves. He looked both ways on Procession Street, validating his observation, and then joined the rest at the bottom of the stairs.

“There are wide openings in the walls along Procession Street, alternating on either side. The openings are shallow, horseshoe-shaped. They look like amphitheaters, with seating levels around the circumference of the arch, as if they were made like stadiums, for watching something—perhaps the parade of triumphant armies returning to the city. But listen. The directions told us to go seven stadia, and we thought it was distance. What if they meant go to the seventh stadium? The seventh area to watch the parade?”

Tom watched a smile rise on Annie’s face.

“But,” asked Rizzo, “how do we know which one is the seventh?”

Now it was Tom’s turn to smile. “Because, if I counted correctly, the seventh stadium is almost next door, directly across from Nebuchadnezzar’s palace.”

Achmed’s eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness. Now he saw through every shadow, waiting for any shadow to move. He was a deadly shot. Even in the dark.

Move.
He scanned the alley, looked around the corner of a wall.
Come. Move.

“Out in the street, back through the alleys, or over the wall?” asked Joe.

“It’s too dangerous in the street.”

Rizzo took a look up at the ragged top edge of the ruined wall. “You get on top of that wall, and you’re probably visible to anybody in the city.”

Annie nodded. “Tom, how far to the entrance?”

“Maybe twenty, thirty feet.”

“Too far.”

“Look,” said Tom, “down the other end, where Saddam rebuilt the walls along the street, they are really high. But down this end they’re still only eight, ten feet high, depending where you stand. Maybe we can find a way in from behind the stadium.”

“Okay … we go back through the rooms or find an alley,” said Annie. “We need an alternative. The street is too dangerous.”

Atkins was at his shoulder, but looking back the way they had come. “How far do you think we should go?” he whispered.

“Maybe another half mile, then double back.”

“Moon’s gonna be up soon.”

“Yeah … we don’t have much time.”

One more glance in each direction and Whalen left the shadow of the ruined wall, ran across the open street toward the location of Nebuchadnezzar’s palace.

In the alley behind Procession Street, Rodriguez stepped off twenty-five feet. The old wall here was uneven in height, a little more than eight feet at its lowest point, but still too high for Joe to reach on his own. He knew Bohannon couldn’t very well give him a boost one-handed, so Joe motioned Rizzo over. Together—their fingers interlocked—Bohannon and Rizzo formed a foothold. Rodriguez stepped high and placed his boot in their hands.
One, two, three.
He pushed off with his grounded foot at the same time the two men lifted their hands and propelled him to the top of the wall.

Pressing himself against the uneven bricks as best he could, Rodriguez pulled his legs up so he could lay flat along the top of the wall and check out the other side. The amphitheater looked to be about six or seven feet deep from its apex to the edge of Procession Street. Three levels of seating surface, one higher than the next, hugged the circumference of the semi-circle. But there was an opening at the very center of the arch, creating a section of seating on either side. The opening was just below Joe.

Joe pivoted on his elbows and lowered his body about three feet to the top level of seating. Crouching, watching his step, he moved down the other levels and stood on the ground between the two sections of amphitheater seats in the stadium. Conscious of every sound, he edged toward the only opening, on Procession Street. Nothing stirred. Joe backed away from Procession Street, turned to help the others over the wall, and stood face-to-face with Daniel.

The pistol resting gently in his hands, he wasn’t sure if the movement was real or imagined. Either way, he would investigate. High up, along the top edge of a damaged wall. He only saw … sensed? … the movement out of the corner of his eye. But his senses were reliable.

Crouching in a dark corner of a ruined house, Achmed withdrew his multiband, handheld radio. “Come east. Twenty meters. Watch along the tops of the walls.”

Hanging from the top of the wall, Rodriguez dropped back into the alley. He motioned to Tom.

“Once you get on top of the wall there’s a short drop to the top level of seating on the other side. We’ll get you up first, then Annie. After we hand up the packs, Sammy will come up and you can drop one of the pack straps down to give me a hand. Listen”—Rodriguez looked at them all—“get off the top of the wall as soon as you can. It’s pretty visible.”