The Jerusalem Creed: A Sean Wyatt Thriller (24 page)

Tommy smiled. “Bingo.”

Adriana moved closer and hefted the crowbar. She moved Tommy aside without saying a word and wedged the sharp edge of the metal between the slits next to one of the most famous names in ancient history.

Nebuchadnezzar.

Susa

Adriana pried the cube loose, and soon she was able to slide the entire column out from its place. The second the rod was completely free of the wall, a new sound entered the antechamber. It was difficult to make out exactly what it was, but after ten seconds a deep rumble replaced the noise. The floor and walls vibrated like a small magnitude earthquake. Light danced around, gyrating across the surfaces, and dust particles flew freely in the air.

Suddenly, the engraved wall began to move downward, slowly, inch by inch. The gap at the top was just a slit at first, but the mechanism gained momentum, and soon it was a foot, then two. A blast of stale air shot out from the darkness on the other side, mingling with air from the outside world for the first time in thousands of years. 

The visitors exchanged ecstatic glances while Muhammad simply stared forward into the opening darkness, eyes wide with disbelief and wonder.

When the stone completed its journey, the top was flush with the ground, almost seamlessly. The group waited a moment, gazing into the beyond, wondering what might await. Sean didn’t pause long. He turned around, grabbed a flashlight from his gear bag, and started forward. Muhammad grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.

“You must be careful. There could be measures left by the people who built this place.”

“I’ve seen my share of booby traps, Muhammad.” Sean grinned and winked. “I’ll be careful.”

He spun around and pointed his light into the abyss. The LED beam pierced the darkness and stopped on a point forty feet away. It was a wall not dissimilar to those surrounding them. Sean redirected the light to the floor just beyond the portal’s threshold and took a wary step forward. The others tucked in close behind him, wielding their own lights to keep the path illuminated.

The dusty air tickled their noses, and a few rebellious particles found their way into Tommy’s lungs, causing him to cough violently for a moment. He raised the collar of his T-shirt over his nose as a filter and pressed on.

In the bluish light, the four realized they were in a perfectly circular room, carved immaculately from the bedrock beneath the city. The walls stopped at about eight feet, where the domed ceiling rose to a point thirty feet high in its center.

Muhammad, ironically, was puzzled by the room’s design. Even in the darkness, his face visibly contorted into a questioning expression. “I don’t understand,” he said, his head turning quickly back and forth as he examined the architecture. “This room is a Muslim design. I don’t understand. Daniel was a Hebrew prophet.”

Adriana nodded her agreement, though she ignored his confused looks and walked slowly toward the middle of the room. Sean was right next to her, moving in tandem. A stone sarcophagus, eight feet in length, was the target of their prowl.

“Actually,” Tommy said, still eyeing the walls and ceiling, “it would make perfect sense. When the Babylonians were captured, many of their priests, military minds, and leaders were put to death. Nebuchadnezzar was already dead, and his successors largely failed. Belshazzar, a drunken fool, was left in his place to run things while his father, another weak ruler, ran off to Palestine to establish a colony. According to the story, Daniel foretold the empire’s demise after a strange hand appeared in the throne room and wrote it on the wall.”

“Which is where the term, ‘writing on the wall,’ came from.” Sean added. As he stepped closer to the long box, his eyes remained locked on an object that sat on its top.

Tommy stopped what he was doing and moved toward the stunning alabaster sarcophagus as well. “Right. Anyway, the Medes and Persians were led by Cyrus, a Persian. He allowed Daniel to live and brought him into his council. If one of the Persian kings designed this burial chamber for Daniel, that would explain why it appears to be an early Muslim design.”

Muhammad nodded. “Fascinating.”

“Yeah, and a little long. Try to shorten it next time,” Sean joked. His voice bounced off the walls and ceiling.

“Hilarious,” Tommy said, nearing the box.

Sean reached out to the object atop the creamy-white sarcophagus. It was a small cube, and its yellowish color was unmistakable. The little container was made of pure gold. It was grimy and dusty from centuries underground, but it was nonetheless remarkable.

“What is that?” Tommy asked, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the flashlight’s pale glow.

Sean took a deep breath. “I think it’s what we’ve been looking for.”

The cube had a lid pressed firmly into the main portion, and it took a few seconds before he could wriggle it free.

Muhammad came close and stared along with the others as Sean opened the cube. They all held their breath, uncertain of what would be within. As the lid came free, their beams fell upon an incredible, and at the same time, unspectacular sight. Two stones, one white and one black, lay within the cube.

“The Urim and the Thummim,” Adriana said reverently, her voice barely a whisper.

Sean reached a hand in and picked up the stones. Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice stopped him cold.

“Put the stones back in the box, please.” The accent was faintly Middle Eastern, but the English was perfectly clear.

Sean froze in place for a second while the other three spun round. Tommy instinctively reached for his gun but realized that would be a mistake. Seven gunmen, dressed in black and wearing scarves over their faces and headlamps on their foreheads, had pistols aimed in their direction. Adriana sensed the danger and twisted her head around slowly to assess the situation. Muhammad put his hands up instantly, obviously unaccustomed to being in such a spot.

“Don’t make me ask you again.” The man in the center of the gunmen was the one giving the orders. He was dressed similarly to the others but wore nothing across his face. His tanned skin, dark hair, and facial structure belied his Arab descent. He held his weapon, identical to the other six, down at his waist with hands crossed.

Sean let out a sigh and did as he was told. The stones clanked at the bottom of the metal cube.

“Thank you,” the man said. “Now all of you move away from the sarcophagus. Over there to the left will be fine.” He pointed in the direction he wanted the group to go.

“No sudden movements,” one of the gunmen ordered.

Sean knew the second speaker must have been Sharouf, the second in command.

“I had a feeling you’d follow us here, Mamoud,” Sean said as he and the others inched their way over to the wall. “I have to say, I was starting to wonder if you’d got lost.”

“Always the cocky American, even when you stand in the face of death and failure.” Mamoud’s expression remained stoically unimpressed.

“It seems to have worked for me so far.”

Tommy and Adriana kept their eyes narrowed, watching the situation develop.

Mamoud turned around and jerked an older man forward. The prisoner was dressed in a white linen shirt and light cream-colored linen pants. “You wanted to see those stones so badly,” Mamoud said. “Let’s go take a look at your life’s work before I bring it to an end.”

The older man snorted, but his eyes were full of fear. He looked like he’d not slept for days, and his clothes were wrinkled and dirty. Sean gave a slow nod to the prisoner, trying to convey that everything would be okay. Nehem’s return expression was one of bewilderment, clearly wondering how that was possible.

Mamoud raised his weapon and jammed it in the archaeologist’s back, forcing him forward. “Please, I don’t have all day. We have a war to start, and the sooner the better.”

The two padded across the floor to the sarcophagus bathed in the light from the gunmen’s headlamps and the flashlights the other four still held.

“That’s far enough, Nehem,” Mamoud said. He shoved the older man aside and pointed his headlamp into the golden box. A sickly smile stretched across his face, and his eyes grew wide as they beheld the two stones. He reached in and picked them up, holding them close to his face to give a closer examination. “Now the power of Israel is in the hands of Abraham’s true heir,” he nearly whispered the sentence. He turned so that his prisoner could see the stones. “With these, I will always be a step ahead of my enemies.”

Nehem didn’t say a word as he gazed upon the precious stones. Every instinct within him said to snatch them and make a break for the door, a move that would be certain suicide. Mamoud must have sensed his thoughts as he withdrew a half step.

“Go stand over there with the others,” Mamoud ordered.

Nehem hesitated but obeyed, slinking over to where Sean and the others were huddled by the wall.

“What now, Mamoud?” Sean asked. “I mean, what exactly is your plan? You said you wanted a war. War with whom?”

In the residual light of his headlamp, Mamoud’s face took on a sinister expression. “You shouldn’t worry about such things, Sean Wyatt. You and your friends will be dead, buried in this tomb along with the Hebrew heretic within this box.” He tapped on the sarcophagus.

“Maybe. But I’ve always had a curious nature.”

Mamoud considered the question for a minute. He looked down at the stones in his hand and then at the floor. Distant, painful memories seeped into his mind. “When I was in college, during the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, my mother was visiting a friend in one of the towns on the outskirts of Baghdad. She was there on a mission, helping to give food to homeless people. She was kindhearted and always helped others. On day three of the invasion, a drone mistakenly dropped a bomb on the compound where she was working.” A twinge of distant pain scratched his voice.

“My mother was one of thousands of innocent people the United States and its friends have murdered. You sit there in your cozy living rooms watching CNN coverage of the devastation like it was a video game, never thinking that every building your army destroys has an innocent janitor, a security guard, an ordinary person just trying to make an honest living. It is time that America and its allies face the same fate. You want to know with whom I will wage war?” He paused for a moment and rubbed the stones with his thumb. “I will wage it with the world. You think your people, your media, your governments know terror? You think they know pain?” He lifted his head and stared through Sean’s eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Susa

Mamoud motioned to one of his men carrying a black duffle bag. “Bring me the Hoshen,” he barked.

The gunman obeyed and hurried over to where his employer stood. He set the bag on top of the sarcophagus and awaited further orders. Mamoud motioned for him to join the others. Once the minion was back in position, Mamoud spun around and unzipped the bag. He stuffed his gun into his belt and reached in with both hands, pulling out the golden breastplate with the twelve stones imbedded in the front. He held it up, admiring it as the shiny metal glimmered in the glow of the artificial light.

“It’s an impressive piece,” he said. His voice reverberated off the walls. “And it will bring about the downfall of the infidels.” He laid it gently on the flat stone and placed the Urim and the Thummim at the top edge of the breastplate.

Sharouf’s eyes flicked back and forth between his targets and his employer while the gun in his hands remained trained on the five huddled by the wall.

Mamoud gazed at the relics as if wondering what to do next.

Sean snorted a laugh. “Don’t know how it works, do you?”

Mamoud’s eyes barely lifted, peering under the lids at the American. “Oh, I know how it works. I was just considering what question to ask first. And now I believe I have one.”

He put his hands out wide with palms up and tilted his head toward the ceiling with eyes closed. “Mighty Allah, show me your will. Will I kill these infidels this day?” He waited for a moment and then looked back down at the relics. The silence crushed him as he waited. But nothing happened.

He raised his hands higher and prayed again. “Great Allah, will I kill these infidels this day for your glory?” His voice boomed through the chamber this time.

Sean could feel the weight of his gun hanging over his shoulder. Every instinct inside him wanted to draw down on the villain and end this right here and now. To do so would get him and the others cut down instantly, though. So he waited and used his sense of humor instead.

“I’m guessing right now is when something is supposed to happen, right?”

Mamoud looked down again. Still, the relics showed no signs of changing. The look on his face switched in seconds to one of terrible concern. His eyes widened in disbelief. “It should have worked. Why is it not working?”

Sean shrugged. “It happens to every guy sooner or later. You know, one in three have trouble performing—”

“Shut up!” Mamoud commanded.

Sean stopped talking but offered a sheepish grin to top off the insult.

“You,” he pointed at Nehem. “What is wrong with this? Why isn’t it answering me?”

Nehem shrugged. He truly didn’t know the answer, but he offered one nonetheless. “Perhaps all the stories about those objects were merely legends, myths created by the priesthood in Israel to keep the people under control. Or maybe it doesn’t work for someone like you, a man of evil intentions.”

Flames roared through Mamoud’s eyes. He looked back down at the objects and picked up the white stone. He examined it closely for several seconds and then threw it on the ground. The piece shattered into hundreds of pieces. His hand went to his gun, and he jerked it out of his belt, pointing it at Sean. Nehem desperately stuck out his hand as if doing so would somehow piece the broken stone back together.

“Very clever, Sean. You swapped out the stones.” He put out his other hand and motioned with his fingers for the American to come forward. “Bring them to me, slowly.”

Sean’s eyes were slits. “Suppose I don’t?”

“I can always just kill you and take them from you.”

“You’re going to kill us anyway. So what’s the difference?”

Mamoud pursed his lips and nodded. “That’s true. But you will have to watch your friends die first. I think I’ll start with the girl.” He steered the barrel to where Adriana was standing defiantly to the right of Tommy and the others. She had the same look on her face that Sean did, the look of a snake waiting to strike when the moment presented itself.

“Okay, take it easy. I’ll give them to you.” He held his hands up slowly, palms facing forward. “I have to reach in my pocket to get them.”

“I know you’re armed. Take out your gun first, set it on the ground, and move away.”

“Just now thinking of that?” Tommy snipped.

“Tommy, relax,” Sean said in a half-joking tone. “Remember, he’s not a professional. I’m guessing Mr. Al Najaar here is new to the kidnapping, hostage-taking, world terror game. Cut him some slack.”

“Shut up!” Mamoud’s voice shook with urgency. “All of you, remove your weapons, and put them on the ground. If anyone tries to be a cowboy, my men and I will kill you where you stand.”

Sean nodded and did as he was told. He pulled his pistol out and laid it on the ground. His companions did the same as Muhammad and Nehem watched out of the corners of their eyes.

“Good,” Mamoud said when he was satisfied they were unarmed. “All of you take two steps toward my men over there.” The group obeyed again, putting themselves several feet away from the guns on the floor.

“Now bring me the stones,” Mamoud beckoned, motioning with his fingers.

Sean kept his hands out and moved cautiously toward the sarcophagus. He stopped at the head of the heavy stone box and waited to see what Mamoud would say next.

“Put them on the lid,” he motioned with a tilt of the head.

Sean bit his lower lip and let out a sigh. He lowered his right hand and shoved it into the pocket where he’d deposited the stones a few minutes before. He felt the smooth, rounded pieces and withdrew his hand once he had both. They had an odd warmth that he’d not noticed before. He stretched out his fist and opened his fingers to set them on the sarcophagus. Everyone’s eyes locked in on the eerie sight as Sean placed the items on the surface. The black stone emanated a strange, purplish glow that lit up the immediate area.

Mamoud’s breath came quick and heavy, but he didn’t falter. “Move away from the stones. Now!” He waved his weapon, motioning for Sean to return to the side. His eyes kept drifting back to the strange objects.

Sean hesitated for a second, also mesmerized by the odd light. “You know,” he said, taking a wary step back, “the black one means the answer to your question was no.”

Mamoud’s nostrils flared. His face twisted in a frown, and his head snapped to the side for a second. “What? What do you mean?”

“You asked if you would kill us today. I’m guessing you figured it was a given. According to those relics, looks like it isn’t.” Sean nodded at the stones as he took another step away.

The young Arab cocked his head to the side. “Oh?” he said and raised the weapon, taking aim at Sean’s head. “I assure you. It is.”

A flicker of light passed across the room as a shadow moved through the floodlights in the antechamber. Mamoud turned his head to see what caused the anomaly, but it was already too late. The sound of a silenced pistol popped through the room, the bullet ripping through the forehead of his gunman on the right-hand side of the doorway. Another weapon fired from a different position, but it had the same result, its round piercing through the right cheek of another gunman. The remaining four henchmen reacted quickly, immediately realizing the danger. They spun around in unison and opened fire, choosing to shoot first and aim second. The mystery attackers landed one more round in the shoulder of a third gunman before retreating to cover on either side of the entrance. Tommy wasn’t sure, but he thought he recognized the silhouettes.

The distraction was the opening Sean had been waiting for. He took two quick steps and launched himself across the remaining six feet. His shoulder planted into Mamoud’s right arm. It jolted the weapon from his hand. The gun clacked on the floor just before the two bodies crashed into the hard stone a few feet away. Mamoud shrieked from the sudden impact and subsequent sharp pain in his shoulder. Sean’s momentum sent him rolling off his target, but he was quick to get back on his feet and resume the assault. He swung his boot at Mamoud’s face. The Arab winced but found enough strength to raise both hands to block the strike. He shifted his weight and grabbed Sean’s foot and then twisted it hard, using Sean’s inertia against him. With his boot jerked at an awkward angle, Sean’s body spun in midair, doing a complete three-sixty before he fell to the ground with a thud. His hands and elbows struck the surface first.

Adriana’s reaction to the strangers’ ambush was instantaneous. She’d managed to keep the tomahawk out of sight during their capture. She grabbed it from its belt holster and rushed the nearest gunman while he was preoccupied with the shooters. His back was exposed, a fact she took immediate advantage of. Adriana felt the perfectly balanced weight of the tomahawk in her hand as she darted forward and swung the deadly weapon’s sharp edge at the villain’s back. The blade sank deep into his tissue and stuck into the shoulder blade. He yelped in agony and slouched forward. She wasn’t done yet. Her hands worked quickly, yanking the tomahawk out of the bloody target. She whipped it up, spun the man around, and struck hard with the spike, driving the black steel straight into the man’s heart. His eyes flared in shock before the body fell limp to the floor in a heap. Adriana bent down on one knee, worked her weapon free, and scooped the fallen gunman’s pistol from his fingers just as Tommy charged by, a whoosh of air following him.

The man he was targeting had sensed danger when his partner screamed a few moments before. He’d already turned around, but his reaction was too slow. Tommy leaped at him with a flying sidekick, his boot heel striking the man in the chest. The blow sent the gunman crashing into the wall, momentarily stunned. Tommy used the moment to his advantage and threw a haymaker of an uppercut, landing it right under the gunman’s jaw. The target’s head snapped back accompanied by a sickening smacking sound. The unconscious gunman slumped against the wall, his knees buckling under the dead weight.

“Heads up!” Adriana shouted.

The two remaining henchmen on the other side of the room realized the imminent threat and turned their attention to Tommy and Adriana. Tommy was the first target they acquired and drew down on. With no cover, nowhere to run, and no weapon at the ready, Tommy had to think fast. He ducked down, grabbed the unconscious henchman, and spun the body around to use as a human shield.

His move wasn’t a second too soon. The gunmen opened fire, peppering the body with a spray of deadly metal. One bullet ripped through the man’s arm and clipped Tommy’s shoulder, but he held tight until the popping sounds turned to clicks, their magazines empty.

Adriana stole the moment and stepped forward, firing on the two exposed killers and taking one out at the knee and chest. The other one took two rounds in the gut before a bullet pierced his forehead, sending a red splash onto the wall behind him.

Sean pushed himself off the floor, though his elbows throbbed painfully. Mamoud regained his balance and saw Sean regrouping. The Arab’s eyes flashed toward his gun on the floor. Sean caught the glance and knew what the man would do next. The two dove simultaneously for the gun, both hands hitting it and sending it sliding away.

The popping sounds from the gunfight had ceased. Through his peripheral vision, Sean saw that Adriana and Tommy were okay, which meant they’d taken out the rest of Mamoud’s men.

He grappled with his opponent, their hands swatting and swinging at each other as they rolled on the floor, each trying to stretch out for the weapon they believed was their salvation. Sean grabbed Mamoud’s wrists and pulled him close, but the madman gained the advantage and rolled over on top of him. He punched Sean on the cheek, opening a fresh cut on his face. He attempted a second, but Sean forced up a forearm and blocked it. Sean grabbed the other arm and pulled Mamoud close, head butting him in the nose.

The Arab leaned back, but Sean didn’t let go, bashing the man’s nose against his head again and sending a fresh surge of pain through his opponent’s face. Blood oozed from the broken appendage, and tears poured from his eyes.

Adriana watched with her weapon drawn. Mamoud managed to wriggle free and lean back. She had a clear shot and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. “Crap.” She tossed the weapon aside and picked up the tomahawk again.

Mamoud swung his arms wildly, landing a blow against the side of Sean’s head and another on his jaw, followed by some striking him in the ribs and gut, most blocked by the American’s forearms. The brute ferocity of the attack signaled Mamoud’s desperation.

Sean shifted his weight and whipped his legs around, a move that threw his opponent clear and sent him rolling to a sudden stop against the sarcophagus. Sean popped up and assumed a crouching martial arts position, ready to finish the fight. He realized that Mamoud had stopped only a few feet away from one of his pistols. Unarmed, Sean would be an easy target, and there was no way he could beat him to it this time.

“Sean,” Adriana shouted. He glanced left. She tossed the tomahawk in a dramatic arc.

Sean snatched it out of the air and whirled around instantly, flinging the deadly weapon at his crawling target. The blade rolled through the air in a blur and struck Mamoud at the base of his neck. He grunted and collapsed, grasping at the foreign object protruding from his body. He rolled onto his back and clutched the weapon by the handle, debating on whether or not to remove it. Mamoud knew the grim truth. The blade was dripping with blood, but the second he took it out, his life would spew forth and end in seconds.