The Venice Code (22 page)

Acton felt a shiver race up and down his spine. “Understood Dylan. And thanks.”

“Don’t thank me Doc until you make it out of this alive.”

The line went dead and Acton looked at Laura who was clearly disturbed by Kane’s words. He glanced at Reading whose teeth were clenched, his jaw square.

“You know who we’ll be dealing with, don’t you?” asked Reading.

Acton nodded. “I’m assuming Mossad?”

Reading shook his head. “No. Based on that conversation, either Fatah or worse, Hamas.”

“Oh dear,” murmured Laura, curling her legs up under her.

Acton nodded slowly.

We’re being delivered into the hands of terrorists.

Over the Adriatic, En route to Israel

Present day, two days after the kidnapping

Grant Jackson picked at his fingernails, absentmindedly staring out the window at the waters far below. He had barely had any sleep since he had been kidnapped, the drug induced stupor he had been in the first night barely counting, and last night in Munich at a safe house was filled with tossing and turning and nightmares.

And now he was on his way to Israel, a country he had always wanted to visit, but not this way.

What the hell am I doing?

These people were criminals, wanted by every police force in the world by now, and were chasing crystal skulls around the planet thinking they had godlike powers. It was ridiculous. And his father had believed in it? The more he thought about what was going on right now, and what he had been told happened when his father was killed, the more he began to second guess his decision to see his father’s work through.

Lesley Darbinger had been a friend to the family for as long as his memories went back. Darbinger was a good man, and now that he knew the brain tumor story was pure fiction, it meant that Darbinger had killed his father as a completely sane man. And if Darbinger didn’t have a brain tumor, then who ordered the Delta Force to murder those students in Peru and all those people in London? If it wasn’t Darbinger, then it was obviously his father. Which would make sense.

Darbinger killed Dad to stop him from killing any more people!

He felt the blood drain from his face as he suddenly felt faint. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself, continuing to stare out the window, praying no one noticed he had begun to shake.

Keep it together!

His mind was reeling with the implications. It was his own father that had given the Delta Force their orders. It was his own father that was responsible for all those deaths.

He deserved to die!

Tears filled his eyes at the thought, and he silently begged forgiveness for thinking them, but he knew he was right. Any man who would order so many innocent deaths over something as trivial as a stone carving didn’t deserve to live. Lesley Darbinger had done the right thing.

And now here he was surrounded by his father’s allies, those who supported him in his cause, and those who he had no doubt wouldn’t hesitate to kill if anyone got in their way.

And they’re everywhere!

They had just breezed through customs in Germany, the guard just giving them a nod when Mitch had flashed the tattoo on his wrist. Now they were on their way to Israel with a false passport for him that had been waiting for them in Munich.

How do you escape a group that is everywhere?

There were eight of them on the plane. When there were only four he could have walked away, but now he was in so deep he had no idea if they’d let him go. Even asking the question terrified him, the response potentially a bullet to the head.

For now his best bet was to continue playing along with them and try to find an opportunity to escape. But if he were to escape, how could he guarantee his safety from them? His shoulders dropped in defeat. He knew there was no escaping.

The only question that was relevant, was whether or not he even had to.

Over the Mediterranean, En route to Israel

Present day, two days after the kidnapping

Dawson sat in the back of the Hercules C130J as it rattled on even louder than its predecessors.
You’d think they’d invest a little in quieting things down!
He lay on one of the cots attached to the fuselage, the rest of his team, including one last minute addition from the CIA, Agent Sherrie White, doing the same, some asleep, some reading, some playing with their smartphones. For once he had finally managed to remember his Kindle and had read himself to sleep. But something had woken him.

The comm screeched in his headset again.

“Sergeant Major, you’ve got a call.”

Dawson was immediately alert, swinging his legs off the cot, sitting upright. “Put it through,” he said, adjusting the large noise cancelling headset wrapped around his head.

“Hey, old buddy! I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Dawson immediately recognized the voice of Dylan Kane, a former member of his unit gone rogue—CIA Special Activities Division. If Dawson thought what
he
did was under the radar, it was nothing like what Kane was up to. Dawson had been approached to join the CIA on more than one occasion, but had refused, preferring the company of The Unit rather than the solitary existence of an operative.

“As a matter of fact you did,” said Dawson with a smile.

“Good. Too much beauty sleep will make you stand out in a crowd,” laughed Kane, then his voice became serious. “Can you talk?”

“I’m in the back of a Herc. Not even God can hear me.”

“Good to see you’re still a blasphemer,” jabbed Kane. “Listen, our professor friends contacted me.”

“Uh oh.”

“Exactly. It looks like they’re somehow mixed up with this Grant Jackson bit.”

Dawson’s eyes rolled. “How the hell did they manage that?”

“It would appear that Jackson was taken by an offshoot of the Triarii, the same offshoot that Jackson senior was part of. They’re after crystal skulls to try and unite them or some bullshit like that. Anyway, the professors were in Munich in search of a skull when guess who shows up?”

“The nutbars with Jackson happily at their side.”

“Good guess.”

“Good intel from your friend.”

“Ahh, my good buddy Chris is still proving to be valuable, excellent. Well, here’s the latest. Acton and his fiancée along with that Special Agent from INTERPOL are heading to Israel right now.”

“So are we.”

“I figured you’d be on the case what with your previous involvement. Now here’s a part of the puzzle I’m pretty sure you don’t know about.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve arranged for them to get into the West Bank.”

Dawson’s eyebrows shot up and he let out a slow whistle that he was sure sounded like static on the other end. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“Don’t ask and I won’t have to kill you. Let’s just say these guys aren’t playing for our side, and money is the only thing keeping our friends alive. They’re supposed to be going to an old Greek monastery outside Jericho called St. Gerasimos. Apparently there’s a skull hidden there.”

“Of course there is.”

Kane chuckled. “Exactly, but whatever we think of it, somebody believes and is willing to kill with respect to it. Here’s the bottom line. I’m getting them in. If they survive and actually reach the monastery, they’re going to need a way out. I don’t trust my guys to do it since they’re probably going to kill them and steal whatever they found. You’re probably going to have to get them out.”

“Just how the hell am I supposed to manage that?”

Dawson could almost imagine Kane grinning on the other end. “You’ll think of something. You’re coordinating with Mossad, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but now I have to kill you.”

“Next time. Anyway, if the Triarii are after the professors, then there might be trouble so be ready for it. And remember, don’t trust Jackson. He seems to be working with them now.”

“Got it. And Dylan?”

“Yeah.”

“Lose my number.”

Kane roared in laughter then the call ended. Dawson motioned Red over.

“What’s up, BD?”

“You’re not going to believe the shit I just heard.”

Ben Gurion Airport, Israel

Present day, two days after the kidnapping

James Acton handed over his passport to the customs officer. Reading had gone first, his INTERPOL identification speeding the process along somewhat. Laura had gone next and her smile and treasure chest had her through almost as quickly.

He, they decided to give the third degree to.

Endless questions, repeated questions, examining of the passport, reexamining of the passport, searching of his luggage, scanning of his luggage.

Do I fit the profile of a terrorist?

“You are an archeologist, Dr. Acton?”

“Yes.”
For the fourth time.

“And do you intend to seek out any of our cultural treasures while you are here?”

“If they are in a museum, yes.”

“Do you intend to remove any of these treasures from our country?”

“Of course not.”

“Our information says otherwise, Dr. Acton.”

Acton’s heart leapt but he kept it hidden from his face. He hoped.

“Then your information is wrong.”

“Why are you really here, Dr. Acton?”

“As I said before, we’re here on vacation. We want to visit the holy sites. A sort of pilgrimage.”

“With a flight plan filed today?”

“We were surprised how quickly we got that approved as well, but my fiancée is rather wealthy and we are both well-known in our field, so that may have sped up the process.”

“I’ve never heard of you, Dr. Acton.”

“But you’re not an archeologist.”

The man handed over Acton’s passport then scratched his wrist, moving his watch band. Acton nearly pissed his pants.

The Triarii tattoo!

“Remember, Dr. Acton, we are always watching. Should you need any assistance, call our tourist bureau.”

The officer slid a card over the counter toward Acton. Acton took it and quickly pocketed it.

“Thank you.”

“Have a good day, Doctor.”

“You too.”

He grabbed his bags and as casually as he could walked toward where Laura and Reading were waiting. The three said nothing as they exited the terminal.

“Hallo, what’s this?” asked Reading, motioning toward a man holding a sign.

Dr. Action.

“You’re a superhero, honey!” gushed Laura, elbowing him.

“Don’t let it go to your bloody head,” muttered Reading as they walked over to the man in a chauffeur’s uniform.

“I’m Dr. Acton.”

The man bowed, crumpling the paper and stuffing it in his pocket. “I am here to take you to your hotel.”

“I don’t remember ordering a car,” said Acton, thoughts of Rome flashing through his head.

“He did say we’d be met,” whispered Laura.

Acton nodded, his suspicious nature getting the better of him. He smiled at the driver who pointed to a large black limo parked nearby. “Please, leave your luggage, I will take care of it,” said the man who scurried over to the rear door and opened it. Laura climbed in then Acton followed by Reading. The door was shut and they watched as the man, whose name they never got, loaded their bags in the trunk.

“What do you think?” asked Acton, glancing at Reading.

“I don’t know. This cloak and dagger thing was never my area. Your friend Kane said we’d be met. I would assume if we were being met by someone else, they would have intervened.”

“That’s a good point,” agreed Laura, looking out the window. “I don’t see anybody making a scene.”

Acton had to agree. If Kane had sent somebody to meet them, and they were actually here on time, then they wouldn’t have let them get in the limo.
But if they weren’t on time?

The front door opened and their chauffeur/kidnapper climbed in, then looked through the rear panel with a smile. “Relax, my friends. We have about a forty minute drive ahead of us. But before you know it, you’ll be at your hotel!”

The car started forward gently, the man pulling out into the light airport traffic as the rear panel closed. Within minutes they were heading toward Jerusalem, nobody saying anything, all just watching out the windows for anything out of the ordinary. Acton was dying to tell the others about the Triarii border guard and what he had said, but couldn’t risk the limo being bugged.

It will have to wait for the hotel.

Acton decided to take the opportunity to nap, succeeding in minutes. A gentle elbow woke him as they pulled up to their hotel, the King David. Their driver stopped and popped the trunk, bellhops immediately jumping at their luggage. Their door was opened and Reading climbed out followed by Acton. He looked around and saw nothing suspicious. Holding out his hand he helped Laura out then followed Reading into the hotel, their bags trailing them on a luggage cart. Check-in was swift, tips were paid—generous for the driver since he hadn’t kidnapped them—and within minutes they were in their rooms, Laura and Acton sharing one, Reading in an adjoining.

Laura showered as Acton examined the amenities, then he joined her, tired of waiting. A good round of hanky panky was interrupted by knocking on their door. Acton frowned as Laura gave him a kiss then left him wagging as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself.

“It’s Hugh!” he heard her yell, allowing him to relax slightly as he finished showering, evidence of the team sports having receded by the time he finished. He stepped out into the room and Laura returned to the bathroom. He pulled a pair of underwear on under his towel so Reading wouldn’t have to be embarrassed by a locker room kibble and bits display, then tossed the towel on the back of a chair.

“So what are we supposed to do now?” asked Reading.

“He said we’d be met.”

“And we were.”

“Were we?”

“Bah! You professors talk in riddles. What the bloody hell do you mean?”

Acton smiled, recognizing Reading’s frustration with the situation. Like him, Reading hated not being in control, and right now they clearly weren’t in control. They were in a foreign country, waiting for person or persons unknown to smuggle them illegally into a very dangerous part of Israel, where the rule of law meant little.