Blowback (18 page)

“So Ellyson was interested in retracing Hannibal ’s path?” asked Harvath.

“That was the way it seemed, and the more time Bernard spent with him, the more Dr. Ellyson began to trust him,” said Marie. “He was a lonely man. He had no wife, no family. Many evenings, he kept Bernard up all night so he wouldn’t have to drink alone. The doctor would tell Bernard stories about how Hannibal had almost succeeded in changing the face of history.”

“What did he mean by that?” Jillian eagerly asked.

“He believed Hannibal ’s army was bringing with them a magic weapon that could completely decimate the Romans-men, women, children, even their animals. This idea is completely crazy. A magic weapon which kills people and also their animals?”

“How did Ellyson know this? Where did he get his information? Was it from Burnham?”

“Bernard wondered the same thing. Like me, he was also beginning to think Ellyson was crazy. Of course, we were being paid good money, but at some point the money was not so important. Ellyson was, how do you say? Obsessed.

“One night, after they had been drinking, Bernard forgot himself and told the archeologist that he thought he was crazy. They had been searching for some time and had found nothing. Ellyson was furious that Bernard did not believe in him. He made Bernard go upstairs with him to the room he used as his office so he could show him his proof.”

“Proof?” repeated Harvath. “What kind of proof?”

“In the office, Bernard watched Dr. Ellyson take the key he kept on a chain around his neck and open a metal attaché case. Inside was a book made from pages of very old papyrus. According to the archeologist, the pages were written in ancient Greek and were a firsthand account of Hannibal ’s journey over the Alps.”

Jillian turned to Harvath and said, “The Silenus manuscript. Silenus was the Greek war correspondent who spent all his time amongst Hannibal ’s different soldiers. That must be what it was.”

“Not only were there Greeks with Hannibal, but Roman spies as well. From what Dr. Ellyson learned, word of Hannibal ’s attack had been circulating for some time. It wasn’t the attack itself that the Romans were most concerned with, but rather the magic weapon the Carthaginians were said to be bringing with them; and the Romans found a way to stop this magic weapon from ever reaching Rome.”

“How?”

“The Roman spies paid some of the Carthaginian soldiers to betray Hannibal. The men responsible for guarding the magic weapon were killed as they slept, and their bodies and beasts swept off the face of the mountain by a terrible avalanche.”

“Did Ellyson ever say how the book came into his possession?” asked Harvath.

“Mais oui,” replied Marie. “Of this, the man was very proud. He told Bernard he had discovered it himself.”

“Where?” said Jillian.

“At first, he would not say. It was as if maybe he was embarrassed or something. But you have to know Bernard. There was something very special about him. He was a very powerful man, and other men were drawn to him. He was like a rock. He never judged them, and for that, they felt that they could unburden their souls to him.”

“And Dr. Ellyson?” asked Harvath. “He unburdened himself to Bernard?”

“With the help of two bottles of Chateau Margaux,” said Marie. “One night the doctor must have had a vision of Christ because he un-burdened himself of all his sins. He admitted to Bernard many things we already knew about him. He admitted the drinking, the gambling, and of course the women, but it was the thing he saved for last which was the most interesting.”

“Which was?”

“Dr. Donald Ellyson was a thief.”

“A thief?” echoed Harvath.

Marie smiled and said, “He had assembled quite a personal collection of antiquities over the years. The only ones that were of any value were the ones that were stolen.”

Harvath shook his head knowingly. It didn’t surprise him that in the frothy pool of international malfeasance, two floaters like Rayburn and Ellyson had managed to bump up against each other and had found a way to improve their shitty lot in life by throwing in together. “What did your husband think of all this?”

Marie Lavoine laughed. “Bernard found it quite amusing. The funny thing about Dr. Ellyson was that he had basically stolen from everyone else’s archeological discoveries his entire life, but the minute he made his very own find, he unequivocally forbade my husband and Maurice to steal from him.”

“Wait a second,” said Jillian. “His find? What did he find?”

“Dr. Ellyson was a better archeologist than he thought. With the help of the book in that attaché case, he found part of Hannibal ’s army.”

“Which part? Which part of the army did he find?”

“The part the Romans paid a fortune to make sure never made it to Rome.”

Neither Harvath nor Alcott could believe it. Ellyson’s find was absolutely amazing. “He found it here? In the Alps?” asked Jillian.

“Yes, somewhere near the Traversette.”

“Where exactly?”

“I don’t know. Bernard never told me. He only told me about the discovery itself.”

“How soon was this before they disappeared?” asked Harvath.

“Two weeks, maybe more. They had only just begun to excavate the site. It was located in a very deep ice chasm that was extremely difficult to get their equipment into.”

“I’m confused. You said Ellyson forbade Bernard and the other man working with him-”

“Maurice.”

“Right. Ellyson forbade your husband and Maurice from stealing objects from the site, but they did, didn’t they?” said Harvath. “That’s how the artifacts came into your possession.”

“No,” replied Lavoine. “They did not steal anything. Dr. Ellyson was extremely concerned with what he called the structural integrity of the site. An avalanche, a shift in the ice-it wouldn’t have taken much for everything to be lost.”

Jillian looked at the woman and asked, “So what did they do?”

“Dr. Ellyson catalogued everything. Very carefully, he recorded where each piece had been found, and then Bernard and Maurice helped carry them back here. The smaller artifacts were easy enough to transport; it was the bigger ones they were just starting to decide how to handle when they disappeared.”

“So Ellyson reported his find to Burnham, and that’s how he knew you had them.”

“The artifacts? No, Dr. Ellyson said the artifacts were none of Burnham’s business.”

“But Burnham was funding the expedition.”

“Ellyson didn’t care. He said Monsieur Burnham was only interested in one thing from the dig, and since that was all their agreement called for, that was all he was going to get. Anything above and beyond that, Dr. Ellyson said Monsieur Burnham had no right to.”

“And what was the one thing Burnham was interested in?” asked Jillian.

Lavoine had no idea. She just turned up her palms and shrugged her shoulders.

“How did the man claiming to be Burnham even figure out then that you had the artifacts?” asked Harvath.

“Because I told him. As I said, we haven’t had many customers since Bernard disappeared. The bank still must be paid, and I have very little money left. So, I offered Monsieur Burnham a chance to buy the artifacts from me.”

“But technically he had funded the expedition. Those would have rightfully belonged to him and his institute. What if he had gone to the police?”

“I didn’t care. I lost my husband. My life was ruined. Besides, I knew Monsieur Burnham wouldn’t want anything to do with the police. As I told you, Dr. Ellyson was very secretive and always kept the door to the room he used as an office locked. He had every copy of the key, and even I wasn’t allowed in there to clean. When he, Bernard, and Maurice failed to return, I had my neighbor help me take the door off the hinges. On the other side, there was absolutely nothing. No sign of the boxes of books and papers he had brought to the hotel with him. No computer. No attaché case, nothing. Someone had been in the hotel and had taken every single thing out of that room. Who else would have done that but Monsieur Burnham?”

“So a year passed and you decided to do what?”

“I decided to sell Monsieur Burnham the artifacts. We would fix a price and he could have them all.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

“No. He told me he didn’t have any money. Not right now, at least. He offered to give me a small deposit and pay me later, but I wouldn’t agree.”

“Smart lady,” said Harvath.

“I told him I needed all of the money right away. He became very angry, telling me they belonged to the foundation. When I told him I knew there was no foundation, he tried to make excuses. Finally, I threatened to go to the police and tell them everything I knew if he didn’t cooperate.”

“I bet he didn’t like that,” replied Harvath as he remembered what a temper Rayburn had.

“Not at all, but he was in a similar position as me. He had no choice. He could not afford to pay me, and he definitely did not want me taking the artifacts or my story to the police, so we settled on the compromise of selling everything through Sotheby’s.”

“So what’s at Sotheby’s represents everything Ellyson uncovered?”

Lavoine looked away for a moment before responding. “No. Not everything.”

“There’s more?” asked Jillian.

Lavoine tried to explain. “Even though we were dealing with Sotheby’s, I still didn’t trust Monsieur Burnham. I thought he might find a way to cheat me. I couldn’t risk everything on the first venture. Besides, Ellyson had never even told Monsieur Burnham exactly where the site was, much less what he had recovered from it. Monsieur Burnham had no idea what I had in my possession. By doing it my way, if the first sale went well, I could wait a while and then quietly go back to Sotheby’s with more.”

“And without having to split the money with anyone.”

Marie nodded her head.

Harvath stood from the table and said, “We need to see those remaining artifacts.”

“Why?”

“Because even though your husband never made it back from that chasm, the weapon the Romans paid so dearly to prevent getting to Rome actually did.”

Lavoine was shocked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the man you call Elliot Burnham has been working with Muslim terrorists, and they plan on using Hannibal ’s weapon against the Western world.”

“The weapon actually exists? What is it?”

“An illness of some sort,” replied Jillian. “Please, Marie, whatever artifacts you have still, we need to take a look at them. We promise you, that is all we want to do. We have no intention of taking them from you. Millions of lives may be at stake here. We know Bernard had no idea as to whom he was helping, but you can help us to fix this. Please, we need your cooperation.”

Lavoine thought about it for several moments and then said, “Okay,” as she stood. “Get your coats. You’re going to need them. It’s very cold outside.”

WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM

WASHINGTON, DC

O nce the secure videoconference link with CIA headquarters in Langley had been established, the president began speaking. “I assume I wasn’t called out of my meetings upstairs because you have good news.”

“Unfortunately no, Mr. President,” responded the director of Central Intelligence, James Vaile. “Two days ago we made a very important electronic intercept related to the village of Asalaam.”

“If you made it two days ago, why am I just hearing about it now?”

“With all due respect, sir, our Arabic translators are seriously overworked and dangerously backlogged.”

“I know. I know,” said Rutledge, “and I’m doing everything I can to get you additional funding to hire more of them, but now’s not the time for this discussion. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got.”

“We intercepted a posting in an Islamic chat room that commented on the hand of Allah successfully striking down all but his most faithful followers in a remote location referred to as the place of peace.”

“Asalaam?”

“That’s what we think,” replied Vaile. “The fundamentalists like to describe Iraq as the crusaders’ burial ground. The people talking in that chat room signaled that the place of peace was within the land known as the burial ground of the foreign crusaders.”

The president was silent as the DCI continued. “One of Osama bin Laden’s most beloved was also said to have been present to witness the power of Allah firsthand.”

“Khalid Alomari.”

“We think so. There were enough allusions to his past accomplishments for us to be fairly certain it’s him. We’ve been monitoring the room, but the poster hasn’t returned, or at least not under the same handle as before. We’re not holding out much hope of tracking him down. Just like cell phones, these guys will use a chat room once and then never come back to it again. They know it makes it impossible for us to trace them that way.”

Though none of this was exactly good news, Rutledge knew his DCI well enough to know that he was saving the very worst for last. “What else did you find out?”

“One of the people in the chat room claimed that what happened at the place of peace was only a small example of what Allah and his most holy warriors had planned for the enemies of Islam, in particular the United States.”

The president was again silent for several moments as the confirmation of their worst fears began to sink in. Finally, he asked, “Is that it?”

“No sir,” replied Vaile. “There was one other thing.”

“What is it?”

“According to the transcript, the means by which Allah intends to decimate all but the most faithful followers of Islam has already arrived in America. It says that it’s only a matter of days before the bodies of our citizens begin piling up-overflowing our hospitals, morgues, and cemeteries.”

FRANCE

Carrying flashlights, Harvath and Alcott followed Marie out into the bitterly cold night and were led behind the hotel to a small barn at the far end of the property.

“You keep the artifacts in here and don’t even keep it locked?” Harvath asked as Marie pushed the door open.

“No one locks their doors here. If you do, you send a message that you have something worth stealing. Besides, how long do you think it would take if someone really wanted to get in here?”

The woman had a point.

Marie closed the door behind them and then used her flashlight to point to a stall in the middle of the structure. “In there.”

After moving several bales of hay and kicking away the loose pieces of straw, Harvath found the trapdoor. Drawing it back, he played his flashlight down a series of stone steps, which led into a large cellar.

Jillian joined him, and with Marie bringing up the rear, they descended the steps. The cellar was enormous. Marie found a box of matches and lit several of the lanterns hanging from the low ceiling. As the lanterns illuminated the room, Harvath heard Alcott draw a sharp intake of breath.

Perfectly arranged on clean sheets across the cellar floor were hundreds of artifacts contained in clear plastic bags. Jillian couldn’t help herself and she rushed over to get a closer look. “How were they able to transport all of this?”

“Strong backs, big packs, and many, many trips,” replied Marie.

Joining Jillian, Harvath carefully picked up one of the sealed bags and examined its contents. Inside was a weapon he recognized from his study of military history-a Celtic falcata. With its inward curving blade, legend had it that the powerful short sword could slice through a shield and helmet with just one blow. There was something else about it that interested Harvath, though. Stuck to the bag was a piece of masking tape with a string of numbers. Holding it up so Marie could see them, he asked, “Do you know what these are?”

“I have no idea,” said Marie, shaking her head sadly. “I took several of those pieces of tape to a friend of Bernard’s who is also a mountain guide. I hoped he would be able to decipher it. I thought it might be GPS or something like that. I thought maybe it would help us find Bernard and Maurice, but they seem to be just a bunch of numbers that do not make any sense.”

“Actually,” replied Jillian as she read the numbers along her bag, “they do make sense. They’re grid coordinates.”

“Like on a map?”

“Very similar. Ellyson must have established a grid system over the site where the artifacts were found. The first numbers are a reference point, maybe an outer corner or dead center in the middle of the site. The next set of numbers explains what part of the grid the item was found in.”

“What about this last set of numbers, the one with a degree marker after it?” asked Harvath. “That’s not a longitudinal or latitudinal designation?”

“No. It’s degree of elevation followed by a depth designation. I’d say Ellyson was dealing with a very steep surface and was cataloging not only at what point along the slope he was finding things but also how deeply embedded.”

“Embedded?”

“Yes, probably in ice. Call him what you will, but the man was thorough,” said Jillian.

“Thorough, but not to the point that these strings of numbers will tell us where the actual discovery was made.”

“No. They’re all in relation to that first set of numbers. Those are the anchor which all the others work off of. We’re missing one key piece of the puzzle-the Rosetta stone, if you will, which explains the overall message.”

Harvath turned to Marie and asked, “When Bernard failed to return home, did you call the police?”

“Of course,” replied Marie.

“What happened?”

“They came and asked the same questions they always ask when climbers have not returned.”

“What did you tell them?” asked Jillian. “Did you mention anything about the Hannibal connection?”

“I told the police basically everything I knew, that my husband was climbing the crevices somewhere near the Col de la Traversette and he had not come home.”

Harvath looked at Lavoine and asked, “The local police looked through all of your husband’s maps, charts, whatever they could find that might tell them exactly where he was climbing on the day he disappeared?”

“The police and his climbing friends. They looked through everything, but they found nothing. Doctor Ellyson was trying to keep his work a secret, so it is no surprise Bernard left no record.”

It was obviously painful for Marie to relive the experience. Nothing was said for several moments as Harvath set down the falcata and wandered among the rest of the artifacts.

“These are all very interesting from a historical perspective,” said Jillian, “but they don’t really shed any more light on Hannibal ’s mystery weapon itself.”

“The Arthashastra talked about applying poisons to edged weapons, right?” said Harvath.

“Yes.”

“Maybe we should have these analyzed then.”

Jillian noticed Marie tense and discreetly motioned for her not to worry. “If Hannibal was going to eliminate every Roman man, woman, child, and even their animals, he wasn’t going to do it one sword stroke at a time. He had a bigger delivery vehicle in mind. We need to find Ellyson’s dig.”

Harvath shook his head. “No. This is a dead end. We need to find Emir Tokay.”

“And how are we going to do that? We don’t have any leads.”

“We’ve got the e-mail address that Marie used to contact Rayburn, and we know Rayburn was involved with Emir’s kidnapping. I’d say that’s a pretty good lead.”

“Only if it leads somewhere. Look,” she continued, “if we can find the dig, maybe we can find enough physical evidence to help us piece together what this mystery illness is all about and figure out a cure.”

“And Emir?”

Jillian was silent as she considered her response. “We don’t even know if he is still alive. It’s possible that he’s been killed. The answers we’re looking for might be closer than we think. We’re here now and finding Ellyson’s dig is at least a possibility we can’t afford to turn our backs on.”

Jillian was right, but how the hell were they going to locate the dig? Teams much more experienced and much more familiar with the area had searched for the missing men for weeks and had come up empty. How were he and Jillian supposed to accomplish what they couldn’t? They didn’t even have any new information. The only thing Harvath could think of doing was to re-cover the ground the police had already been over and hope to find something that they had missed. Without much hope, he turned back to Marie Lavoine and said, “I need to use your telephone, and then I’d like to see Bernard’s personal effects for myself.”