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."