Stones of Fire

With a brusque wave of the hand, MacFarlane motioned Boyd Braxton to back off. His eyes narrowing, the behemoth lowered the sub-machine gun. Then, snarling like a rabid animal, he brazenly toggled his index finger over the trigger, wordlessly relaying a very stark message — with the mere press of a finger, he could instantly end his life.

Having no control over Braxton, C?dmon turned his attention instead to the giant’s commanding officer. Well aware that the best falsehoods were those crafted from the truth, C?dmon did just that. He told the truth. ‘Since we last met, I’ve used my time wisely. With Miss Miller’s assistance, I have put together an in-depth dossier.’

‘Complete with photographs, maps, you name it,’ Edie embellished, the woman spinning yet another outlandish lie on her improvised loom.

‘You’re going to have to be more specific than that.’ As he spoke, the muscles in MacFarlane’s jaw twitched spasmodically.

‘As Edie mentioned, Thames House has been apprised of your plan to destroy the Dome of the Rock two days hence on Eid al-Adha,’ C?dmon replied, having quickly cobbled together what he hoped was a plausible scenario. ‘And, to answer your next question, Five has already contacted its Israeli counterpart. The moment you enter Israel, Mossad will drop a noose around your neck. The Israelis do not take kindly to terrorists.’

‘And the deal?’ Other than a tightness in his jaw, MacFarlane gave no visual clue as to whether or not he believed the tale.

‘The deal is simple: surrender yourself to the British authorities and you will receive humane and civilized treatment; reject the offer and you will be at the mercy of Mossad. I understand their interrogation tactics are particularly brutal.’

‘In case you’ve forgotten, I’m an American citizen,’ MacFarlane declared, as though that gave him some sort of carte blanche.

‘Do you think that will matter to the Israelis? To them you are merely a terrorist intent on destroying the most holy site in all of Jerusalem.’

The tick in MacFarlane’s jaw became more noticeable. ‘And what of the Ark?’

Beginning to think he might actually pull off a bloodless coup, C?dmon said, ‘It must be surrendered to Her Majesty’s Government. Were it not for the fact that you have the Ark of the Covenant in your possession, you would have been handed over to the Israelis already.’ C?dmon glanced at his wristwatch. 10:20 p.m. ‘If you have not surrendered yourself to the British consulate by twenty-three hundred hours, the deal is null and void.’ Of course, he had no way of knowing if there was anyone on duty at the consulate. He would cross that rickety bridge when he came to it.

A tense silence ensued, the only sound being a soft rat-a-tat-tat as Braxton drummed his fingers against the stock of his MP5. C?dmon purposely refrained from looking at Edie, knowing that any communication, even a silent exchange of glances, would be noticed, MacFarlane in the process of separating the wheat from the chaff.

‘Since the beginning I wondered if you would contact British intelligence,’ MacFarlane finally said after what seemed an interminable pause. ‘But knowing the power that the Ark holds, something told me you’d want to keep MI5 out of the loop. Why? Because I assumed that like most men you would want the Ark of the Covenant for yourself. It’s the reason Galen of Godmersham made no mention of his extraordinary find to his brethren, the Knights of St John, even though he was duty-bound to do just that. Instead, he lugged the Ark back to England, where he promptly hid it.’ MacFarlane took several steps in C?dmon’s direction, the tick in his jaw no longer in evidence. ‘So I have to ask myself… What makes you a better man than that brave knight?’

C?dmon shrugged. ‘I was faced with a crisis that Galen of Godmersham never had to confront.’

‘And what crisis might that be?’

‘How best to prevent the destruction of the Dome of the Rock. Brave though I am, I am but an army of one,’ he added drolly, hoping to recapture the momentum. ‘And so I had no choice but to contact Thames House. Better the British Museum has the Ark of the Covenant than a man bent on destroying the world.’ Even before the words passed his lips, C?dmon knew them to be the truth, silently damning himself for not contacting Five. For thinking that he, like Galen of Godmersham, could keep the Ark for himself.

‘And when the wretched knight saw this, his death was well deserved.’ The cryptic line from the quatrains finally made perfect sense to him.

‘Mark my words, doomsday will soon be upon us. And when it comes, we will slay the beast of perfidy with divine revelation.’ As he spoke, Stanford MacFarlane compulsively twisted the silver Jerusalem cross that he wore on his right ring finger. C?dmon suspected the ring was his anchor. Seeing that repetitive motion, he feared the scales had tipped. And in the wrong direction.

Edie, who had remained silent, pointed to a string of lights out in the bay. ‘Doomsday is coming all right. Dressed in commando black and wielding some awesome firepower. You guys have only got a few minutes left to surrender.’ Wearing her bravado like a new suit of clothes, she donned a cocky grin.

Good God. The woman was reading aloud from a Hollywood script.

Without warning, MacFarlane stepped over and grabbed Edie by the hair, yanking her to his chest. Although she desperately tried to twist free, he wrapped her curly locks around his fist and pulled her head back, exposing her neck. He then held out his free hand, palm up. ‘Give me that diving knife.’

C?dmon lurched forward, only to be pistol-whipped on the side of the head by one of MacFarlane’s men.

Knowing he could do nothing to save Edie if he was dead, he stood immobile. Edie, evidently sensing that she couldn’t escape, had suddenly stopped resisting.

‘You know, boy, I’ve got a funny feeling that you and this curly-haired harlot are lying to me.’ MacFarlane, his face twisted in a sneer, locked gazes with him. ‘Now, I know that you’re a trained intelligence officer. So I’m going to assume that you have the mental fortitude to stand by while I hold a gun to your pretty woman’s head.’ As he spoke, he lightly ran the knife blade along Edie’s cheek. ‘But do you have the stomach to watch the flesh flayed from her bones in long bloody strips?’

Although her neck was stretched taut as a bowstring, Edie tried to shake her head. Tried to caution him not to reveal that there would be no commandos dressed in black coming to the rescue.

A brave woman. But, more importantly, a beloved woman.

‘As I stated earlier, I did in fact compile a dossier outlining everything that has occurred since Jonathan Padgham’s murder six days ago,’ he confessed, the match lost, his queen taken. ‘Included in the report is a detailed threat assessment of your planned attack on the Dome of the Rock.’

‘Where’s the dossier?’

‘In the vault of the Dragonara Hotel.’ Having carefully planned for just such a moment, C?dmon now played what he hoped would be their get-outof-jail card. ‘If Edie and I have not returned to the Dragonara Hotel by eight o’clock tomorrow morning, the dossier will be promptly delivered to the British consulate. From there, it will be forwarded to MI5. You are a clever enough man to realize that it would be advantageous to keep us alive. Now, would you please relax your grip on Miss Miller’s hair?’

MacFarlane unwound a palm’s length of hair. Just enough so Edie could move her neck, but not enough for her to escape.

‘How do I know that you’re telling the truth?’

‘As with your belief in Old Testament prophecy, you must take it on good faith that I am.’

MacFarlane unwound Edie’s hair from his fist. Muttering something about ‘lying harlots’, he shoved her away. Opening his arms, C?dmon caught Edie, clutching her to his chest.

‘You and the harlot have a reprieve.’

Without asking, C?dmon knew that he and Edie would be accompanied to the Dragonara by at least one of MacFarlane’s men. Once there, they would be forced to retrieve the dossier from the hotel vault and hand it over. Then they would most likely be executed. All told, the reprieve would amount to no more than a few hours. Not unlike watching a killer shark from a glass-bottomed boat, knowing all the while that the vessel will soon capsize.

Hearing the mobile phone clipped to MacFarlane’s belt, C?dmon watched as the colonel took the call, turning his back on the assembled group. A few moments later, he ended the call and turned to Boyd Braxton.

‘Call in the troops. We’re ready to set sail.’

Edie frantically tugged on C?dmon’s sleeve. ‘The boat that just sailed into the bay, I bet that’s how they’re