Devastated, Jarral remembered going into shock. In an instant everything had changed. Withdrawing from law school he began attending worship in a mosque where a radical Imam named Mohammed Ameer al-Khalid preached Allah’s commandment that Muslims must return to the true faith of Islam as practiced in the time of the Prophet. A willing student and quick study, Jarral had been easily recruited by ISIS, converting from secular law to the absolute demands of Shari’ah. After spending a year in the killing fields of Afghanistan where he learned the basics of asymmetrical warfare, he was sent to Germany by way of Turkey before eventually immigrating to Spain. Finding work as a laborer, he was given charge over a sleeper cell in the city of Salamanca and told to prepare, for the End of Days would soon be at hand. It was thus at last that Jarral had found his true calling.
Finally reaching a position that afforded him an unspoiled view of the cave’s entrance, Jarral dropped down into a crevice between two boulders. Producing a pair of binoculars from a well-worn leather pouch that hung from his left shoulder, he began to survey the activity below. The first thing that struck him was the lax security. The guards never ventured out from the base camp below. Only laborers, most of them European and younger than himself, could be seen moving in and out of the entrance to the cave. Assuming Tariq would be coming here, who would protect him? The answer, of course, was the American. Which forced Jarral to recognize the need to take out the Infidel first thereby leaving Tariq exposed to swift and easy capture.
Moments later, as if his thoughts had somehow served to summon Satan himself, Jarral reacted to the sight of the American making his way up the incline from the base camp below. He appeared to be unarmed but carried some sort of black satchel slung over his shoulder. As he reached the mouth of the cave, he stopped briefly to speak with an older man. Then the Infidel ducked into the darkness to the right of the lift. Less than a minute later, he reemerged minus the satchel and crossed to the metal cage. Entering, he engaged the winch. With a jolt, the lift began its descent, carrying the American into the darkness below.
Taking out a folded piece of paper and a pencil, Jarral quickly sketched a rough map of the immediate area. Then tucking it in his belt, he turned and nimbly retraced the route he had traveled. Obviously, Tariq was not there. But time was growing short. And with the father’s impending death, the son must soon come to them. All they had to do was remain vigilant.
Moving nimbly, Jarral skirted the camp once more and made his back way to the abandoned farmhouse below.
TWENTY-TWO
R eaching the cave’s mouth, Corbett stopped to speak with Sebastian and his two assistants. The initial progress they had made in beginning to exhume the dual skeletons was extremely promising. A Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon buried side by side. A remarkable find. Encouraging them to keep at it, Corbett moved off.
Skirting the lift, he slipped into the shadows just beyond. Making certain he was alone he found a fissure in the rock to the far right of the entrance where he carefully positioned the backpack so that the opaque canvas blended in seamlessly with the darkened recess. Then turning back, he entered the metal cage of the lift and began his descent.
As the cable from the winch unspooled, Corbett could see Roberto and Karim operating the laser as it scanned the cave’s upper chamber recording the data on their computer. He watched as Karim began to reposition the tripod. This kid’s an agent for MI-6, he thought with a grim smile. He shook his head. What was the world coming to?
Reaching the cavern floor, Corbett slid the door to the cage open and stepped out. Taking out the LED flashlight Fleckner had given him, he turned it on as he moved toward the lower chamber. Instantly, the cave before him filled with light. Much brighter than the one he had been using, this new light would make everything easier.
Pleased, he began making his way over the uneven rock surface. Moving quickly, he slipped past the stalactites and stalagmites as he approached the secondary chamber below. The stale air smelled of lichen and decomposing organic matter. From somewhere deep within the recesses of the cavern, he could barely hear the sound of rushing water.
As he approached the rock wall that contained the cave paintings, he switched off the flashlight on the chance that the additional illumination might adversely affect Ella’s photography. Hesitating, he stood there in the darkness for a long moment watching her work. Completely absorbed by her photography and the music coming from her MP3, she failed to hear him approach. Her tight-fitted knit thermal NTS top accentuated the curves of her body. There was something about her casual grace as she stepped from the camera to the cave paintings that ambushed his imagination. Her unselfconscious sexuality. As she returned to the camera to make a minor adjustment, he waited for the sound of the shutter release before he stepped from the shadows and spoke her name.
“Ella…?” he said at last, stepping forward into her line of sight while doing his best not to surprise her.
Reacting with a start, she stepped back. Then seeing that it was him, she managed a small smile.
“Michael…?” she said, turning off her music and removing her earbuds. “You startled me.”
“Sorry. Just on my way to finally have a look at the lower reaches of the cave and thought I’d stop and see if you needed anything.” He found himself whispering for
