God's Lions - The Dark Ruin (20 page)

“But why Gibraltar?” Lev asked.

“What?”

“You said we are going to Gibraltar.”

“Oh, that. Your daughter and the rest of the team in France will be boarding one of Britain’s Astute-class nuclear subs off the coast of Normandy. From there they’ll be transported to Gibraltar to meet up with you and Leo. Intelligence services from countries all over the world are becoming involved, and they chose Gibraltar as their meeting place. Evidently, Acerbi also has a place at the table.”

“That should be interesting,” Lev said, frowning. “When do we leave?”

“Tonight ... after its dark. A Special Forces team will be waiting for you on the beach behind the villa. From there they’ll transport you to a rendezvous point with the Israeli sub
Tekuma
out at sea.” Zamir finished off his beer before fixing Lev with a look that intensified the worry lines around his eyes. “You know, Lev, in all my years of military and intelligence service, I’ve never seen a threat like this before. It’s diabolical. Whoever’s behind this has become almost God-like overnight, and it’s obvious they already have the upper hand.”

“Any idea what Acerbi has to say?” Leo asked.

“No. I’ve heard he’s being tight-lipped as usual.”

“Then I guess we’d better go pack,” Leo said, standing and stretching his arms over his head. “This is one meeting I don’t want to miss.”

“What’s your hurry, Cardinal?” Zamir called out. “You’ve got a few hours to kill before you leave.”

“I’ll be right back. I need to let Morelli know he’s going for a little ride on a fighter jet this afternoon. He’ll be thrilled.”

Great
! It was the first word that came to Leo’s mind as they walked through the confines of one of the
Tekuma’s
narrow, faux-wood passageways to a tiny cabin. Even though he had worked deep underground in a Pennsylvania coal mine with his father and uncles the summer before he left for his first year of college, Leo had never really liked cramped spaces, and a sub was about as cramped a space as one could hope for. Not only that, but he couldn’t help but think of all the water pressure that would soon be pressing against the hull. If anyone ever did manage to sneak a virus into the onboard computer system of a sub, the resulting malfunction could order it to descend below its classified crush depth. After that the only consolation would be the fact that they probably wouldn’t feel anything when the hull finally imploded.

As soon as they entered the small cabin, a thin, nervous-looking man stepped in behind them and extended his hand. “Welcome to the
Tekuma
, gentlemen. My name is Misha Bagrov. I’m the security officer onboard the
Tekuma
. I hope you don’t find our accommodations too spartan. What we lack in space we make up for with good food.”

“Nice to meet you, Misha,” Leo said, extending his hand, “and this is Professor Lev Wasserman.”

“It is indeed an honor to have the two of you onboard. Incidentally, I have your complete dossiers on my desk. I believe this is the quickest we’ve ever cleared two civilians to sail on an Israeli submarine. Your mission must be very important, is it not?”

Lev adopted a look of total indifference. “Actually, Misha, at this point we don’t know any more than you do. I couldn’t help but notice your last name ... Bagrov. Russian, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Professor. I was born in Russia before my Jewish parents immigrated to Israel when I was still an infant. I’m an Israeli citizen now. Please, make yourselves comfortable. We’ll be submerging in five minutes.” The officer turned to leave but paused in the doorway. “By the way, Professor, I admire the way you managed to change the direction of our conversation away from your mission. I can tell you’re no rookie in the business of secrecy.”

Stepping out into the hallway, Bagrov missed the tight smile curling at the edge of Lev’s mouth as he headed aft toward the sub’s control room. Closing the door to their cabin, Lev held his finger to his lips while he checked the small space for listening devices. Satisfied that no obvious bugs had been planted in the room, he sat on the edge of the lower bunk and was reaching for a cigar in his shirt pocket when he noticed a
No Smoking
sign posted above the door. “How long did Danny say it will take us to reach Gibraltar?”

“He didn’t,” Leo replied.

“They keep the speed of these boats a closely guarded secret,” Lev said, “but I believe this boat can make a run like that in a day and a half. A nuclear-powered sub might make the trip a little quicker.”

“I thought this was a nuclear sub.”

“No, with everything else on our plate, Israel can’t afford to make that fiscal leap just yet. In fact, we don’t even build our own subs. Most people are startled to hear our subs are built in Germany.”

“Germany! Are you telling me we’re in a U-boat?”

“In a manner of speaking. The world stage has changed dramatically since Israel achieved statehood back in 1948. These German Dolphin-Class subs are diesel-electric boats designed and constructed in Germany for the Israeli Navy. At a billion euros apiece, they are the single most expensive piece of equipment in the entire Israeli military and are considered to be the most sophisticated conventionally-powered submarines in the world. The first two subs we received, the
Dolphin
and the
Leviathan
, were actually donated to us by the German people who have strived to support the State of Israel after the horrors of World War II. The sub we’re on now is the third sub Germany built for Israel, and the cost was split between the two countries. I’ve heard there are two more on the way, each subsidized by the German government.”

“Then Israel has no ability to launch a nuclear strike from their subs?”

“I didn’t say that. We don’t have the big stealthy missile boats like they do in the U.S. and Russia, but these subs are still capable of launching nuclear-tipped cruise missiles, thus giving us an offshore second-strike capability if Israel is ever attacked. By the way, that last part is classified, so keep it under your cardinal’s hat.”

“I had no idea,” Leo said, bending slightly in the tight confines of their tiny cabin. “The world has undergone some amazing changes in the past fifty years, but it seems as though humanity continues to walk a tightrope between progress and total annihilation.”

“That’s a good analogy, Leo. We’ve evolved into a species of risk-takers and excitement junkies sandwiched between the two opposing forces of good and evil.”

“Maybe that’s what drives us. Bishop Morelli and I have had long talks on the subject, and we both agree that it’s possible mankind is destined to seed the universe someday. We wouldn’t be able to accomplish something like that without some risk-taking behavior being built into our DNA.”

“You could be right about the risk-taking behavior, Leo, but as a mathematician I have to disagree with your theory of mankind seeding the universe. With the billions of galaxies all around us, it’s a mathematical certainty that there are thousands of other civilizations out there somewhere thinking the very same thing, many of which have probably been traveling to other worlds since before we even existed.”

Leo pulled up the only chair in the room and squeezed his tall frame onto the tiny seat. “Well, there has to be a first, doesn’t there? Maybe we’re it ... civilization number one.” Leo reached up and turned on a small brass lamp mounted on the wall. “Speaking of other worlds, have we learned anything else about that dark star that appeared on Adrian’s sixteenth birthday?”

“Other than the fact that we found a reference to the event encoded in Genesis, we’ve heard nothing new about it since it appeared. Right now it’s just hanging there ... like it’s waiting for something.” Lev stood and opened the door. “Why don’t we go get something to eat, Cardinal? For now we’re just along for the ride.”

* *

Ariella awoke with a start. Looking around at the bare stone walls of their small, cell-like room, she could hear John’s heavy breathing—a sure sign that he was still sleeping soundly beside her. Quietly, she lifted the blanket and slipped out of bed before looking down at the glowing face of her military watch. It was three in the morning, a full thirty minutes before they were due to be awakened for their rendezvous with the British sub.

Outside, beyond the thick walls of the towering monastery, she could still hear the shrill cry of the wind as it whipped around the curved battlements of the medieval structure. She took a few deep breaths and tried to calm herself, but it was no use. Her heart was still racing with the thought of launching through the pounding surf in a small rubber boat and heading out into a dark, storm-tossed ocean to meet up with a nuclear submarine. As frightening as the thought was, Ariella feared that it would pale in comparison to what Eduardo and the pope had to say once they reached their destination. Looking over at John, she saw that his eyes were now open. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Time to get up, hon. Better dress warm. Sounds like that wind is really howling out there.”

“Maybe they’ll postpone the rendezvous til the weather gets better.”

“Postpone? Really, John? The British are sending in a boat full of Special Forces soldiers to pick us up. They don’t care about weather.”

John stretched before climbing out of bed and glaring at his wife. “I just love being married to a military chick.”

“Call me
chick
one more time and you’ll find out just how
military
I can get.”

John smiled and kissed her on the lips. “Come on, G.I. Jane. Let’s go find the others and get this show on the road.”

Ariella grabbed John around the waist and kissed him back. “I love being married to a quasi-intellectual who doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything. Maybe you’re really just some kind of adrenalin junkie sociopath.”

John reached out to grab her but missed as she made a giggling escape into the bathroom and closed the door.

Down the hall, Alon and the Israeli security team were talking to the British Special Forces soldiers that had just arrived and were passing out orange-colored waterproof survival suits to everyone. Next to them, a group of grim-looking Swiss Guards were watching as the soldiers prepared the pope and Eduardo for the rigors of the cold, swirling water that would soon envelop them all when they made their way through the crashing surf for their harrowing ride out to the sub.

Walking from their room, John and Ariella began suiting up. John watched as the pope pulled his waterproof suit over his black sweater and jeans, thinking that the scene was strangely familiar in a biblical sense. The tall, blond Norwegian pope reminded him of a working-class fisherman who was preparing for a long day of pulling nets—a good analogy for a man who, like Peter, was called the fisher of men.

“Ready?” Alon called out.

The orange-suited group all nodded their heads as the British Soldiers lead them down a spiral staircase that seemed to descend forever into the granite base of the monastery. Inside the thick stone walls, the sound of the wind outside was barely noticeable until they reached a rusty metal door that led outside.

Looking back over his shoulder, a soldier looked into the faces of those standing behind him. “Stay together and follow me. My men will be all around you, but its pitch black out there and the wind speed is approaching forty knots. The current is strong and the water is cold, but you shouldn’t feel it in these suits. There are white strobe lights attached to your life vests so that we can spot anyone who gets separated from the group. Don’t turn them on unless a wave washes you away from the group and you need rescuing. The boats will be waiting for us in the surf, so hopefully that won’t be a problem.”

The soldier braced himself before opening the door. Immediately the seriousness of their situation hit them in the form of howling wind and horizontal rain that stung the exposed parts of their faces. There was no moon, and in the next few seconds they would find themselves immersed in total blackness. First out the door behind the soldier was Eduardo Acerbi, who was physically attached by two nylon ropes to two British soldiers. Next in line, the pope emerged with a couple of burly Swiss Guards. A strong swimmer, the pope had declined their pleas for safety lines with the thought that he had a better chance of making it through the surf without the drag of his protectors.

Inch by slow inch, the group felt for slippery hand-holds as they climbed down over moss-covered granite rocks to the water’s edge, until finally they found themselves standing on sand in swirling, knee-high water. With the incoming tide pushing against them, they huddled together and waited.

Suddenly, a dark shape came crashing into Alon’s side. It was a black rubber boat manned by British commandos, and before he had time to react, two pairs of meaty hands reached down and literally jerked him out of the water. Lying in the bottom of the boat, Alon looked up to see two of the biggest men he had ever laid eyes on. No wonder they flipped him out of the water like a father playing with his two-year-old son.

In less than a minute, the commandos had loaded all of their passengers into two boats and were heading back out to sea. The howling wind drowned out the sound of the revving motors as the light, flat-bottomed boats rose over building sets of waves that threatened to swamp them. Each crashing wave pushed them back, until the spinning props were able to take hold once again and propel the small craft forward. As soon as they were past the surf, the boats rose and descended in the rhythmic motion of the sea as they sped toward a darkened shape highlighted by a sky that was growing progressively lighter with the coming of the dawn.

Moments later the soft rubber boats kissed the black steel hull of the waiting sub and more hands reached down to help everyone scramble up the curved sides. Once onboard, they were motioned toward a red glow emanating from an open hatchway on deck, and five minutes later the hatch was being secured from inside while the sub powered away from the coast before making a quick descent in a mass of bubbles that raced for the surface as the sub headed for the depths.