“I told you!”
“I know, I know. Horribly complex, two thousand years old, et cetera, but are you at a stopping place? I really want to go.”
“Not now. Let me finish this stanza.”
He swore. “Will you please just indulge me?”
She looked at him.
“Maybe I’m getting paranoid, but I haven’t seen any security guards around. That feels wrong. Even if Tomás went to Naples, Simon would have left someone.”
Ava opened her mouth to argue. Paul was jumping to conclusions. Then she reconsidered. Paul’s intuition was usually on target. Maybe he was right.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I bet the Piccolo Bar is still open. Can you finish the translation there?”
Ava gave in. She gathered her papers and they made for the gatehouse. As they rounded the final corner, Ava froze. Two men, armed with identical SPAS-12s, patrolled the driveway. She recognized one immediately: He’d followed her in Yemen, and she’d never forget his frightening face. Like a specter from her nightmares, he opened his mouth to reveal sharp, wolfish teeth.
As the man raised his weapon, Paul reacted with lightning speed. Gripping Ava’s arm, he yanked her back behind the building. “Follow me,” he said. “Run!”
Concealed by a retaining wall, they hurried uphill on a narrow path that tracked the cliff’s edge. Far below, waves thundered against crags. Not far behind, the pursuers’ footfalls pounded closer. Paul raced ahead, rounded the final corner, and cut toward the main house, but as he broached the illuminated portico, two silhouettes appeared. Soon he could distinguish their features. The first man, dark-skinned and lean, was a stranger. The second was Sheik Ahmed.
Paul skidded to a stop. Unprepared, Ava slammed into him but Paul barely noticed. Rather, shielding her with his broad body, he backed away from Ahmed. The sheik advanced.
The Americans retreated to the cliff, hoping to escape the way they’d come. Unfortunately, their path was blocked by the men with guns. Backed up against the precipice, they were trapped.
Keeping Ava behind him, Paul lifted his arms and announced, “Okay, Ahmed. You win. Let her go and I’ll surrender.”
The sheik smiled. “How gallant. Sadly, you’re in no position to negotiate.”
“I stole the jars. I’m the one you want. She had nothing to do with it.”
Pleasure radiated from Ahmed’s eyes. He raised his weapon.
Paul’s mind raced. “Wait!” he said. “What about the disks? I know where they’re hidden. I’ll lead you to them.”
Ahmed shook his head. “You’re a miserable liar, Mr. Grant.” Glancing over his right shoulder, he continued: “Besides, my spy confirms that the artifacts were lost at sea.”
Slowly, a third figure materialized out of the shadows to stand beside the sheik. Her posture proud, Mellania gave them a cold smile.
“Surprised?” she asked.
Realizing how thoroughly they had been betrayed, Paul’s shoulders sagged.
The sheik laughed, enjoying Paul’s despair. “You see, Barakah? Never trust a woman. It’s her nature to deceive.”
The wind howled and the surf hammered the rocky shore. Ahmed clicked the safety off his pistol.
Suddenly, Ava shouted. “Wait!”
Paul turned. A vision of courage, she was balanced on the ledge. Long hair blowing in the gale, eyes bright with defiance, she extended an arm to dangle her notebook over the edge.
“I know why your master covets the jars. I know why he forbade you to destroy them. He has a secret. The jars hid that secret for two thousand years, but I deciphered it. Shoot now, and his prize is lost.”
The sheik’s smile dissolved into a sneer. “Insolent girl. You think a schoolgirl’s scribbles matter to him? Our victory is preordained.”
“You know I’m right, Ahmed. He’s vulnerable. He’s scared. Why else send his best agent? Lose the secret, and you fail him. Tell me, what’s the Beast’s penalty for failure?”
Fear showed in the sheik’s eyes. For a second Paul thought Ava’s gambit would succeed. Instead, their enemy regained his composure. “No. We cannot fail. Victory is certain. Kill them. Kill them both.”
As he issued the command, a powerful voice roared in challenge.
“Ahmed!”
From the darkness, Sinan attacked. He took the first gunman by surprise and shoved him off the cliff. The Yemeni reacted faster. He dodged Sinan’s blow, pivoted, and raised his gun, but an instant before it fired Sinan grabbed the barrel, diverting his aim. Sinan ripped the weapon from his opponent’s hands. Like Ariosto’s Orlando in fury, he raised the gun above his head, reared, and clubbed his adversary’s face. Unconscious or dead, the man dropped. Sinan turned. Eyes burning with rage, he charged.
Ahmed fired. His first bullet clipped Sinan’s thigh. The second shot flew wide, but the third shattered Sinan’s wrist and the fourth opened his stomach. He collapsed. With a sadistic smile, Ahmed continued firing, emptying the clip. When the gunshots finally stopped, he ejected the spent magazine. “Finish them, Barakah.”
The lieutenant aimed. Desperate to save Ava, Paul played his final card. Whispering a prayer, he pulled the bishop’s amulet from his neck and held it before them like a shield. The talisman had no effect on the sheik, but when Barakah saw it, he paused. Then, to Paul’s shock, he pointed his weapon at Ahmed. Though Barakah’s mission was incomplete, the sacred amulet signified that it was time to reveal his true allegiance.
Sheik Ahmed’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Then he erupted in a paroxysm of grotesque laughter. Spittle flew from his lips as he raved, “You fool! You weakling! You’ve damned yourself! Can’t you see that the master’s triumph is inevitable?”
Barakah shook his head. In a calm, confident voice, he said, “No. Your master will fall. It is written.”
Fury blazed in Ahmed’s eyes. Nostrils flaring, he said, “You’re blind. Nothing that happens here matters. The infidel leaders have already gathered. Three hours after sunrise, the master will touch a button and blast them all to hell.”
Barakah was unmoved. “There’s still time for you to save yourself. Reveal the master’s plan. Renounce Satan, and your life can be redeemed.”
The wind gusted savagely now, tearing at their clothes. Sheik Ahmed seemed to consider the offer. Then, quick as an asp, he dropped the Ruger, pulled a knife, and whipped his arm around Mellania’s thin neck. Pressing the blade to her jugular, he began to back away.
Barakah raised his weapon. “It’s no use, Ahmed. I’ll kill her. I won’t let you escape. Surrender is your only option.”
The sheik grinned. “Sorry, friend, but that’s a lie. You’re not strong enough to sacrifice her. Your spirit is crippled by mercy.”
Barakah hesitated. Ava was sure he’d pull the trigger. Instead, he lowered the pistol.
Smiling victoriously, Ahmed backed his hostage down the narrow walk. “Prepare yourselves, cowards. Tomorrow, in the bloody aftermath, humanity will crave a strong leader. When the world sees a mushroom cloud, people will beg for safety and security at any cost. Then he shall rise in glory. Then he shall reign!”
As he spoke, a massive shadow rose from behind the cliff, obscuring the stars and casting all into darkness. Mellania screamed in horror. Startled, Ahmed released his captive and turned. He took only a second to comprehend the threat, but that hesitation was fatal. Barakah fired twice. Both bullets slammed home, shattering Ahmed’s rib cage and spinning him around. Barakah fired a third round. It caught Ahmed’s throat, which sprayed dark blood. Gasping, the sheik staggered. He lost his footing, slipped over the edge, and plummeted three hundred feet into the Tyrrhenian Sea.
At Boston Police Headquarters, a uniformed officer carrying a stack of papers entered the dispatch center and announced, “Here’s another fifteen.”