Each was equipped with a personal satellite communication system that let them talk with each other and with Stephanie back in Virginia. Hood was monitoring the mission at Langley. If needed, he could break in. If he did, it meant trouble was on the way.
They tossed the empty containers and high-altitude clothing over the wall to join the chutes. Nick consulted his GPS.
"This way." He gestured.
They moved in single file. By now, Selena had learned the tricks taught by the experience of combat. Her eyes were constantly moving, sorting out images from the night vision unit from her normal vision. At first it was disorienting to see differently through each eye, but it wasn't the first time she'd used the device. It didn't take long to adapt. She was aware of her breath, the sound her boots made on the broken rubble under her feet, the rhythmic pounding of her heart. She could smell herself, a sour odor of sweat, adrenaline and stress.
A stream of tracers shot by overhead, streaks of fire in the night.
Stealing through the ravaged streets of Darraya, she had never felt so alive in her life.
They reached the Syriac church. It had been a large building, almost a cathedral. Part of the roof still stood. The front wall and most of one side wall were gone. The interior of the church was a jumble of broken debris. Pieces of stone and concrete were piled along what had been the front of the building.
"Now what?" Ronnie said.
His voice was quiet. The comm system was sensitive enough to pick up a whisper.
"Adam said there's a trap door somewhere in there. People are using it, so they'll have made some kind of path. No one's going to climb over this wall to read a book. Let's check the side."
They moved down the alley between the church and the building next to it and found an open door. The path was obvious, once you looked for it. They reached the trap door. It was open, thrown back against the rubble.
"Would they leave it open like that?" Selena asked. "That doesn't seem right."
Nick glanced over the edge and saw the stairs leading down.
"There's a light showing down there. It's steep, we'll have to go down single file and the passage is narrow. Pull the night vision once you get close."
Lamont looked over the edge of the opening. "I don't like it. We're sitting ducks for anyone down there."
"We don't have much choice."
"How about we toss a stun grenade in, just to be sure?"
"That's a plan. Reminds me of the bad old days in Iraq."
He took a stun grenade from a pouch on his belt.
"It's probably just civilians in there," Selena said.
"We can't take the chance," Nick said. "If there are civilians, they'll get over it."
When he reached the foot of the stairs, Nick pulled the pin on the stun grenade and tossed it into the room. The sound of the grenade was enormous in the confined space. Selena's ears were ringing even though she'd covered them. Her eyes had been shut tight, but the bright blast of light given off by the grenade sent spots dancing across them.
Nick was into the room in a second, weapon held to his cheek and shoulder. The others were right behind him.
"Place has been torn apart." Lamont kicked at a book on the floor.
Nick bent over the bodies on the floor. He touched one of the men.
"Still warm. These two have been shot. They don't look like combatants."
They looked at the passage in the wall and the broken bricks in front of it.
"This was sealed up," Nick said.
"Someone's looking for the Grail," Selena said. "It can't be anything else."
"He might still be here," Lamont said. "Down that tunnel."
"Only one way to find out," Nick said.
He stood to the side of the entrance and glanced in.
"I can see a wall little farther on. Follow me in. No lights."
He turned off his flash and pulled the night vision unit down over his left eye. The others followed him in.
CHAPTER 54
Not long before, Haddad had slung his rifle over his shoulder, picked up one of the oil lamps lighting the room and started down the passage.
On the street above, an artillery shell landed somewhere close to the ruins. The earth shook. Bits of dirt showered down on him. Haddad held up the light and looked at the roof of the passage. The mortar holding the stones together was old and brittle, crumbling. Another shell landed, dropping bits of mortar on the centuries of dust covering the floor.
The passage went straight, curved right and then left. After a hundred steps it opened into another room. Open shelves filled with bones lined the sides, four high.
A catacomb. These infidel dogs can't even bury their dead properly.
An ancient hint of decay hung in the stale air. Haddad sneezed.
A low stone stood few feet from the wall at the far end of the room. A Syriac cross stood upon it. Two ancient candles set in wooden holders flanked the cross. Haddad used the lamp to light them.
The flame of the candles threw flickering shadows about the macabre room. The stacked bones in the crypts gleamed in the light. The empty eyes of the grinning skulls seem to be watching him.
The cup has to be here, he thought.
He hoped it wasn't hidden amid the bones. Death didn't bother him. Raqqa was filled with death and skulls. But it would take time to go through all those bones. Sooner or later someone would discover the bodies outside and things would get complicated.
No, the logical place would be the altar or nearby.
He examined the wall behind the altar for any sign of a loose stone or hiding place. There wasn't anything there. The wall was solid, part of the church foundation.
He leaned against the corner of the altar and felt it move.
Allahhu Akbar! It's underneath!.
He put the lamp down, took the AK off his shoulder and laid it on the altar. With both hands, he pushed against the corner of the heavy altar. It pivoted in an arc, stone scraping against stone, revealing a compartment hollowed out in the floor underneath.
In the compartment was a wooden box.
Haddad reached down and lifted the box from its hiding place. He straightened, picked up the lamp from the floor and set it on the altar. He wiped dust away and held the box up to examine it.
It was made of olive wood, polished to a high gloss. The quality of workmanship was obvious. The box was square. The diamond cross was carved into each side. Whoever had made it had spent a lot of time making it beautiful.
He had also done something to conceal the way it could be opened.
Haddad turned the box around in his hands. All the sides looked the same. He pressed against one of them. It moved and clicked but nothing happened. He held it between both hands and pressed. Both sides moved, but the box remained closed.
Everything was smooth. There was nothing to grab, no obvious lid, no keyhole. The more he looked at the object in his hands, the more Haddad felt himself growing frustrated.
Another shell struck near the church, rattling the bones of the dead monks. He heard a loud explosion echo through the passage behind him.
That was close, he thought.
A skull fell off its shelf and rolled across the floor to his feet. The vacant eye sockets looked up at Haddad as if to mock him. He kicked the skull across the room. It shattered against the wall.
Another shell struck and then another. Dust poured down from the ceiling.
I have to be sure, he thought. I have to get this open.
He reached for his knife with his left hand, a heavy fighting knife taken from a British soldier. Lamont's voice came from behind him.