The Solomon Scroll (4 page)

"You think it will get out?"

"Of course it will. Too many people already know about it for it to stay secret for very long."

"I see what you mean about it causing trouble," Nick said. "The Israelis would do anything to recover something from the Temple. It's going to get political."

"You can count on it. The zealots will have a field day. The Arabs want to deny Israel any claim on Jerusalem or the Temple Mount. Anything from the Temple would strengthen the Jewish claim, not to mention the remains of Solomon. If everything is in Saudi Arabia, that really complicates things."

"If we know about the scroll so do the Israelis," Nick said. "Israeli intelligence is good. Mossad will have copies of the x-rays by now. They'll be reading the same thing you are. The Arabs won't take it well if the Israelis start snooping around on their turf."

"That's putting it mildly." Selena pushed aside her notes and massaged her forehead. "It gives me a headache, thinking about it. Do you think whoever blew up the train set off the explosion in Grenoble?"

Nick rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Yeah, I do. It's too much of a coincidence. The Israelis could have done it but I don't think it was them. Taking out the train is overkill, they wouldn't need to do that. It's not their style. It could be someone we don't know about, a third-party with an interest in finding the treasure."

"It's not going to be easy to do that even if it still exists," Selena said.

"Is there anything you read that gives something specific about location?"

"There's a section I can't translate yet. There may be something on the next page but it's difficult to read. There are large gaps and what I can see is faint, much less defined."

"Sounds like something Stephanie could help with," Nick said. "There must be some historical mention of what happened to the Temple treasure."

"The only thing I've ever seen is speculation that it was hidden in caves underneath the Temple and later stolen. Or perhaps found by the Templars. Nobody knows," Selena said.

"Okay. But if there is something else, Steph will find it."

Selena yawned. She looked at the clock over the stove.

"My brain is fried." She stretched and yawned again. "I'm tired."

"Let's go to bed," Nick said.

"I'm looking forward to some sleep."

"Just sleep?" He put his arms around her.

"You have a better idea?"

"You know I do," he said.

She reached up and ran her hand over the side of his face. Her fingers touched the scar where a bullet had taken off part of his left ear. His cheek was rough with stubble. She looked into his eyes, gray with hints of gold.

"Why don't you show me what you have in mind?" she said.

CHAPTER 9

DCI Clarence Hood shook hands with his new Director of Clandestine Operations.

"Congratulations, Lucas."

The official Langley photographer snapped a few quick pictures. It wasn't every day that one of the four major directorates at Langley got a new boss. The DCO oversaw all of the secretive operations carried out by Langley's vast intelligence apparatus.

At first glance there was nothing in particular about Lucas Monroe to draw attention. He was of medium height, with skin the color of dark chocolate. It was his eyes that hinted at something best left undisturbed. There were hard lines around them, as if they'd seen more than they wanted to. He wore a gray jacket and dark slacks. The jacket concealed a pistol in a shoulder holster under his left arm.

It was an old habit to keep it with him, even though he no longer had as much need for it. Lucas had been a field agent for years, his exploits already the stuff of legend at Langley. He'd earned his new job the hard way, with smart decisions and a large helping of balls. He was the first black man to hold down one of the major directorates.

"That will do it, Clark."

"Yes, sir." The photographer left the room.

Hood gestured at a pair of leather armchairs in the corner of his office.

"Care for a drink? You've earned it. Come to think of it, so have I."

Hood's voice was mellow, touched with the soft accent of his southern birth. He was a tall man, almost cadaverous. The bones of his face stood out under pale skin lined with more than thirty years of service as a spy. He'd been appointed Director of Central Intelligence by President Rice after the apparent suicide of his predecessor.

"This is a special cask reserve from Kentucky," Hood said. "Best damn bourbon I ever had."

Hood poured two generous shots from a cut crystal decanter and handed one to Lucas.

"Confusion to our enemies," Hood said. They drank.

The two men sat down. Hood's office took up one corner of the seventh floor in the old headquarters building. From where they sat, they could look out over the rolling hills of Virginia, where the remnants of Lee's Army of Northern Virginia had retreated before Grant's forces in the final days of the Civil War.

"You're starting with a full plate," Hood said.

"It's always a full plate. At least it has been as long as I've been here."

"Now that you're DCO, you'll find there are some who resent your promotion. Some because they're jealous, some because of the color of your skin."

"That won't be anything new," Lucas said. "Thanks for the heads up. I can handle it."

"I know that. One thing you've got going for you is your reputation as an agent. The experienced operatives respect that and they'll respect you. The problems are going to come from people who haven't been through the fire like you have. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."

"I can handle it," Lucas said again. He changed the subject. "There are several ongoing operations I've been tracking. I don't see any immediate problems. I'm more concerned with new developments, especially that scroll that turned up in France."

"Yes, that could be a problem." Hood sipped his drink.

"I'm making it a priority," Lucas said. "I've seen the x-rays and translation. The word is spreading fast. If what's on that scroll is true, it could trigger a war over there. The Israelis, the Saudis and every cutthroat in the Middle East will be after that treasure. It's bound to lead to confrontations. We need to find out who took it. I have a lead but I need more information."

"You've identified who is behind it?" Hood asked.

"We traced the chemical signature of the Semtex used to blow up the train. It came from a lot that went missing during the Bosnian war. We tracked that to a black-market arms dealer in Lebanon. I think we should have a conversation with him."

"What do you intend to do?"

"That's something I want to talk to you about. I'm concerned about leaks. Someone here has been talking to the media when they shouldn't. The last thing we need is the press thinking we have anything to do with that train wreck. I have an idea that might bypass that particular problem."

"Yes?"

"I'd like to use Harker's group, instead of our people. Until I can find and plug the leak, I want to keep this under wraps."

Hood raised an eyebrow. "I can see how it might be an advantage to take it out of house but you're engaged to Harker's deputy. You don't think it's a conflict of interest?"

"Stephanie's clearance is as high as mine. She understands the game. It's not like I'm going to be telling her or Harker what to do. That wouldn't work out well."

Hood laughed. "No, I don't think it would. Harker doesn't like people telling her what to do."

"Neither does Stephanie. We'll need the president's authorization to do it that way. You're on good terms with him. I thought I'd talk to Harker and perhaps you could handle the White House."

"Now I see why you're the right choice for the job," Hood said.

CHAPTER 10

Diego Ramirez was lying down reading a magazine. Nick came to his open door.

"You like Chinese, Diego?"

"I don't know any Chinese."

"I meant food, not people. Come on, Sergeant, we're all going out to eat and you're invited."

"I never turn down food," Diego said. "What's the occasion?"

"Stephanie is engaged. This is a kind of late celebration. There's a great Chinese restaurant in Alexandria we like to go to once in a while. You'll get to meet her fiancée, Lucas Munroe. He's CIA."

"CIA?"

Nick heard unspoken judgment in Diego's voice.

"He's good people. Five minutes," Nick said. He turned and went back upstairs.

Ramirez shook his head.
CIA. It figures.

Ronnie was waiting for them outside with his black Hummer.

"The women went ahead in Harker's car," Ronnie said. "Hop in."

Diego climbed in back. "Nice wheels."

Ronnie pulled away. "I've modified it some," he said. "It's not exactly stock anymore. Armor and more horsepower. See that lid on the floor in back of you?"

Ramirez turned and looked. "Yeah?"

A numbered keypad was set into the lid.

"Punch in 1-7-7-6. Lift up that handle and take a look."

Ramirez leaned over the seat, entered the code and lifted the lid. Four MP-5s, a dozen loaded magazines, flash bangs and a Remington 870 12 gauge lay inside the compartment.

"Holy shit," he said. "You've got a whole arsenal in here."

"I like to be prepared."

"What, you were in the Boy Scouts?"

"I figured you ought to know about it. It's come in handy before."

Ramirez let the lid down and turned back to face the front.

"This is Virginia. You need that stuff here?"

"Purely defensive," Ronnie said.

Nick laughed. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, Diego, the bad guys don't like us much. They don't care if we're in Virginia."

Nobody had anything to say the rest of the way into town. Ronnie parked half a block from the restaurant.

The Happy Family restaurant was set back from the street at the end of a short sidewalk flanked by two dragons cast in bronze. The three men walked toward an elaborate pagoda-style entrance painted green and red. Odors of Chinese cooking filled the evening air.

"Smells good," Nick said.

Across the street, a dog began yelping in pain. They looked over. A large man was beating a beagle with a stick. The dog cowered against the pavement and began howling.

"Hey!" Ramirez shouted. "Cut that shit out."

The man turned and looked at him.

"Mind your own business," he said. He raised the stick and hit the dog again.

Ramirez ran across the street and grabbed the man's arm before he could bring the stick down another time. He twisted the arm and sent the stick flying. The dog whimpered and shivered on the sidewalk.

"Want to try picking on someone who can hit back?" Diego said.

The man smelled of beer and cigarettes. He was a large man. Diego looked small beside him.

"You just made a big mistake, buddy."

The dog beater launched a roundhouse right with a ham-sized fist. Diego blocked it with ease and snapped a quick, hard right into the man's face with the flattened palm of his hand. He felt the nose break. Blood poured out. The man howled in pain and grabbed Diego in a bear hug. Ramirez leaned back and head butted him, hard.

They could hear the impact across the street.

Nick winced. "Oooh."

"That had to hurt," Ronnie said. "Our boy has a temper."

The dog beater went to his knees, holding his hands to his face. Farther down the sidewalk, an elderly couple stopped and stared at the scene.

"Game over," Nick said.

Diego reached down and fished out the man's wallet. He looked at the driver's license. Then he tossed the wallet on the ground.

"Now I know who you are and where you live," he said. "I'm going to check up on you. I'm going to watch and see how your dog is doing. If you touch him again, I'm going to give you a beating that will make today look like an invitation to the junior prom.
Comprende, pendejo?
Understand?"

"Yes, yes. Don't hit me again."

The dog looked up at Diego. His tail thumped twice against the sidewalk.

"Good boy. It's okay, he won't do that again. Will you, asshole?"

"No."

"Then we're done."

He walked back across the street to where the others waited.

"Asshole," he muttered under his breath.

"We better go inside," Ronnie said.

"I hate people who abuse animals. I see it, I have to do something about it. It's been that way ever since I was a kid. Got me in trouble sometimes."

"How's your head?" Nick asked.

"Better than his. I got a head like a rock."

Stephanie, Selena and Elizabeth were seated at a large round table set apart from the others in the restaurant. Lucas Munroe sat next to Stephanie.

"Lucas, this is Diego Ramirez. He might take Lamont's spot on the team."

The two men shook hands. Nick, Diego and Ronnie sat down.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Lucas," Elizabeth said.

"Thank you."

"Way to go," Nick said. "You deserve it."

"Diego, you've got blood on your shirt," Selena said.

"It's nothing. It's not mine."

"What happened, Nick?" Elizabeth asked. "We heard a dog howling."

"Sergeant Ramirez had to give a little lesson in animal ethics to a man who thought his dog needed beating."

"Oh, one of them," Stephanie said. "Some people should never be allowed to have an animal."

"I think he learned his lesson," Ronnie said.

A waiter took their orders.

"The drunken chicken is good here," Lucas said.

"I always wondered why they call it that," Selena said. "I get this picture in my mind of a bunch of chickens staggering around the barnyard."

"Probably had more to do with the cook who invented it," Nick said.

There was a brief pause.

"I hear you're looking into what happened in France," Lucas said.

Elizabeth looked at Stephanie.

"It wasn't me," she said. "Lucas brought it up. I didn't tell him anything."

"We have some interest, yes," Elizabeth said.