Babylon Prophecy: Beneath the Temple

By Sean Salazar

Adventure, suspense, intrigue, and murder continue to stalk retired CIA agent Al Robek in this gripping second installment of The Babylon Prophecy. As in Book One, Countdown to Doomsday, Robek struggles to fit pieces of the mysterious Brotherhood puzzle together, working with his counterparts in British intelligence.

Further discoveries―underground and underwater―raise even more questions involving World War II, Freemasons and the Vatican. Robek, at once the hunter and the hunted, is sent on mission after mission spanning the breadth of America, from the Nation’s Capital to California.

What meaning is there in the Holy Script? What secrets lie within the Dead Sea Scrolls? Who are these menacing unknown assailants bent on triggering an early Armageddon?

The race against time continues…

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781937454791

Book preview

Author

Acknowledgments

Creating a work to meld fact and fiction, as I have done with The Babylon Prophecy, has been not only a fun adventure but an extraordinarily challenging one as well. I have appreciated the assistance of many librarians and bookstore owners, as fascinated as I am with ancient history. I am also constantly encouraged by friends, colleagues, and readers of Book One, knowing that my imagination knows no limits! They eagerly await the next installment and let me know I’m not writing fast enough. So here, I want to acknowledge fellow-author George R.R. Martin, whom I heard told his impatient legion of fans: I can’t write as fast as you read! Thank you, Mr. Martin!

I also want to thank Beverlee Bowman Price for her insight into my character Betty, helping me to develop her into a person the reader could perhaps relate to. Beverlee is Betty in her fondest dreams. As she breathed life into Betty, she discovered more of herself.

Publishing a series of this magnitude requires guidance, patience, understanding, and objectivity, and all of these are in great abundance in the person of Sheryn Hara and her Book Publishers Network. Although she has published many best sellers over the past thirty-plus years, Sheryn is always willing to help a fledgling author achieve a lifelong dream.

My editor, copy editor, and publicist Barbara Kindness is always an enormous source of inspiration to me as she makes my story her own.

I see The Babylon Prophecy as a nine-part saga as there is still much story to tell, so my thanks in advance to all you readers who are hangin’ in!

—Sean Salazar

Chapter One

One hour before an explosion over Washington, D.C. Casablanca, West Africa—a secret location

Nice and quiet, Betty said to herself, twirling her pen as she stared at her computer screen. It was hot, she was sweating, and flies were buzzing around her. An overhead fan did nothing but push the hot air around the rented room.

A male voice came over the small speakers, whispering, We are in position.

Betty eyed the screen confirming everything was in place, then responded, Commence.

After a momentary silence, the voice came back, Ready to transmit?

Send, she said, hitting the Enter key. Her breathing slowed as line after line of garbled text rapidly filled her screen. As each new line appeared, she carefully watched, looking for one that stood out. The text was in code. Not just any code. It was the Vatican’s secret communication system, and she had just broken in.

Betty watched intently with her finger poised over the Enter key like a gunslinger on the trigger. Ever since CIA agent Jess Contreras’ true colors had emerged as a double agent, Betty had been obsessively digging and searching for a way into the ultra-secret Vatican mainframe to find out exactly who she was.

The highly trained MI-6 team had spent the last few days carefully and methodically breaking into the Vatican network, and at this moment— albeit illegally—they were in. They were part of a team that Betty knew personally and trusted. The American and British governments had been infiltrated. As to how high and extensive the infiltration, she did not know yet. Until she had that answer, it wasn’t safe for her to come out of hiding—at least not yet.

Her finger began to tremble, for there was no way to determine how fast the Vatican electronic security team would discover the break. For now, she and her team were victorious, but ready to break the connection instantly if the intrusion was detected.

After several more tense seconds without blinking, Betty’s aching, tired eyes reached the limits of dryness in the hot and humid room. Her eyelids began to drop to remoisten her eyes when suddenly she saw the code. Her pupils constricted, and like a reflex, her finger hit the Enter key. Without looking down, she lifted her cramped finger, confirming the line she was looking for was captured.

It was!

Now the specifically designed decryption software went to work. From this point on, her system would absorb the secrets of the Vatican.

Line after line of code was being copied to her software. After several more seconds, she decided she wasn’t going to push her luck by hitting the decipher icon, permanently capturing and storing the information. Doing it too quickly could reveal their presence. If everything went as planned, the Vatican would only assume that the system was being accessed from inside by their own people.

Several more seconds went by when a line of text caught Betty’s eye. She had pre-programmed the software to filter out and alert her if two important names came up: Alex Pike and Jess Contreras. She couldn’t believe how quickly the filtering worked and immediately highlighted the name and the section it was in. She then copied and pasted into a message icon and hit the Send key. Not sure of exactly what it was, but she sent it anyway; the message would be forwarded to the CIA director and then to Ed. He’ll figure it out, she thought to herself, smiling.

With her eyes still riveted to the screen, she took a deep breath, and with her slightly shaking hand reached for her cup of now-cold tea. She lifted the cup, took a sip, and sat back in her chair. The spring-loaded chair had extended to its limits when suddenly the word ‘DAGGER’ flashed in blinking red letters from the center of the screen. She dropped her tea, bouncing the chair forward and almost flipping it over. The cup smashed onto the floor as Betty frantically lunged toward the keyboard, hammering with her fingers in hopes of hitting the Escape key. The cold tea now soaked her ankles as she held her breath. The Vatican now knew she was there and automatically sent a treacherous virus to destroy her files, her software, and eventually herself. It was like a retaliatory blitz on London after Berlin was bombed. The Vatican security team intended to completely destroy the intruder.

Betty didn’t blink as the decryption software did its job. After a few seconds, it was clear that she successfully disconnected before the DAGGER hit her system. Or, did she? She leaned into her speaker and instructed, Get out now; they know you’re there.

The male voice responded, Yes ma’am, and the line went dead.

Betty glanced at the time. The Vatican security response team would know her location and her goal to protect herself and the team from their intrusion was now the top priority. She survived one horrible attack and was absolutely not going to give the Brotherhood, or the Vatican, another shot at her. She reached down, pulled the plugs, and slowly closed her small but powerful briefcase computer. If what she just stole from the Vatican gave her the answers to what she was searching for, then she would contact Ed and re-join the fight. She grabbed her coat, slipped on her sunglasses and opened the door. As she did, she glanced in the dirty wall mirror by the door. A stranger looked back. Gone was the well-dressed woman in classic black. Another looked back through dark glasses framed in pink, glittering with rhinestones, a silly pink coral scarf wrapped around her head and tied in back à la Betty Grable and the Forties. A deep pink straw hat topped all. She wore a wildly colorful blouse cut rather low, showing aging skin that had never seen the sun. This clearly was a woman who wanted to be noticed, not a woman running for her life. It was less than a five-minute walk to the port where her ferry now awaited. She took one last look around, and began her escape.

Chapter Two

Washington, D.C.

Ed came over, tapped Al on the shoulder, and pointed at the ropes being lowered into the giant hole. Because of you, a massive bomb is being lifted out from below the White House lawn. It has been there for probably hundreds of years. But how? You saw it for yourself. The bomb, the faded paintings, the writing on the wall, the tomb...

That doesn’t make any sense, Vance said, angrily cutting him off.

He’s right, Al responded to Vance as he pulled out the worn Bible the Masons had given him. He flipped through it, eyeing the endless handwritten footnotes. He realized that through all the secret bunkers, hidden tunnels, and mass murders, the secret was right in his hands. He handed it to Ed and asked, Does this book really say how to prevent the Apocalypse? Is this ‘the beginning of the end’ as the Holy Script indicated?

Well, Ed said. So far, so good. You have successfully found two of the seven hidden bombs. The locations of three more may be encoded on the wall down there. Al, Ed continued, defeating the Sons of Darkness must be done if you are to prevent the end of days from arriving early.

Vance whacked Al’s back, Nothing like a little pressure, eh, buddy?

Shut up, Al replied. He glanced up as the helicopter increased power and slowly began rising. The crew guided the bomb to the surface, and the shiny metal flashed in the sunlight for the first time in who knew how long. A technician with black glasses was standing on top, riding it up. The helicopter lifted him and the bomb several hundred feet, then flew East.

To the ocean it goes, Vance said.

Al watched it travel off in the distance with several helicopters trailing it.

As the copter slowly turned into a tiny, silver dot, Al suddenly noticed Natalie next to him. She looked him up and down, with obvious concern.

He realized how bad he must look after rolling around in decomposed bodies, cobwebs and his own blood.

Are you ok? Natalie asked.

Al was about to respond when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bright flash of light. It blanked out all his senses as the entire horizon turned silver. Al shut his eyes and turned his head, knowing something had gone terribly wrong. He waited for a nuclear heat wave to incinerate his body.

It didn’t come.

He opened his eyes. A bright, glowing, plasmic orange bubble sat motionless in the sky. The squadrons of helicopters escorting the airborne bomb were now long, vertical smoke and fire trails crashing to the ground.

Al was already in motion with Natalie and Vance in tow. Someone grabbed Al’s arm, halting his pace. A soldier yelled, The president wants to see you right now!

Al pushed Natalie towards Vance and said, Take her someplace safe. He turned to Ed, handing him the three skeleton keys he had used to open the doors under the White House lawn, You might need these.

You got it, Vance answered.

Ed grabbed the keys and said, Go ahead.

Chapter Three

Al turned and followed the soldier in a fast jog to the back lawn of the White House. The entire area was in the process of becoming a security lockdown. Soldiers and civilians were running in every direction.

A military helicopter with its engines running and rotor turning was several yards away. The soldier motioned for him to go to it. As Al got closer, he saw through the open side door the waiting CIA Director, Valerie Churchill.

He climbed inside and Churchill began by yelling over the engine noise, The president and everyone else want to know how in hell you found a bomb under the White House.

Al was about to respond when she said, Hold that thought.

He shut his mouth, sat back and waited as the helicopter lifted off and began cruising at full throttle. Al and Churchill both looked out the window at the smoke trails of the blown-up helicopters. They were now burning hulks on the ground and dozens of fire engines were converging onto the scene from every direction.

Apparently I didn’t find it soon enough, Al said, leaning back.

Everyone knows you did what you could.

Moments later, the helicopter gently landed at Dulles about fifty yards from Air Force One. They landed so close that armed soldiers guarding the perimeter of the plane had to scatter out of the way. A marine officer hurriedly opened the helicopter door and Al recognized him immediately as Captain McCoumb.

Mr. Robek and Ms. Churchill, please come with me, he shouted.

Lead the way, Al replied, jumping out of the helicopter. He turned to help the CIA director but she had followed right after him.

McCoumb led them at a quick pace but instead of going towards Air Force One, they headed past it in the direction of a smaller grey Air Force 737. They ran up the metal steps and he directed them aft into the cabin area. Al recognized this plane as the same command-and-control aircraft he had been in before. They walked past the same manned Orbital control stations and into a small meeting room with a large screen attached to the wall. This time all the seats were occupied and President Burkholder was at the head of the table.

McCoumb stepped aside and let them enter. Al walked past and behind the president and stood at the corner of the table and Ms. Churchill stood next to him. There were eight men and women in various levels of dress, obviously rushed into this meeting in a hurry. He didn’t look at anyone directly and focused his attention on the screen which showed an older woman looking down at something.

Ms. Churchill stood to the side and said to Al, Please continue.

Realizing that he was being ambushed from the top down, Al rubbed his forehead as he glanced at a few of the faces around the table. He really despised these types of meetings where he was expected to explain the latest crisis to politicians. He didn’t mind briefing the president and his advisors, but the rest of the gang he could do without.

All eyes turned towards him and as they did, he noticed a few shocked faces. Al glanced down at his hands and saw that he was filthy, with strands of blond hair stuck in the dried blood on his forearm. Hair from one of the corpses I rolled in. I have got to look and smell like pure death," he thought.

President Burkholder let his reading glasses slide down his nose and announced, Everyone, this is Agent Al Robek, former Army, and retired CIA. He released a prideful grin, Reactivated at the beginning of this crisis.

Al recognized some of the people at the table as a current senator, military brass, and his former commanding officer, General Bill Burke, wearing his old beige professor-type jacket. General Burke gave him a slight nod when their eyes met. That was the secret nod indicating Al was to proceed and the general would connect with him later.

One of the other seated generals who now spoke up Al recognized as General Holland. Why don’t you start explaining to us how you found the bomb under the White House.

Just following leads, sir, Al immediately responded. I am assuming that all those in this room are up-to-date on this current crisis. He paused with that contentious comment as some of the heads nodded. Good, because you probably know more than I do.

A middle-aged woman that he knew as Senator Carlyle from California then spoke, We were just being briefed, but what I want to know is, is this bomb related in any way to the nuclear explosion in Lebanon?

Yes, Al answered.

She leaned back and crossed her arms, glaring at General Holland across the table.

Next question, Al said.

Several people erupted with questions and the president interrupted, One at a time, please!

The chatter died down and Senator Carlyle continued with her questions, Are there more bombs and was this a terrorist attack?

I don’t know.

I’m hearing rumors that the church massacres and these bombs are related, added General Holland.

Yes, I believe they are, Al answered. He was about to continue when the president jumped in, I believe Mr. Robek answered the questions that you wanted to know and yes, the two explosions are connected. At this moment the entire region is being re-analyzed for more hidden complexes or bombs under D.C., and you will all be given a complete update the instant they finish.

Good save, Mr. President, Al thought.

At that moment, Captain McCoumb entered the room and handed the president a note. Most of the chatter died down as Burkholder read it. He looked up and announced, According to this, there is a low level of radiation below where the bomb detonated. Not too high but it could have been much worse. He glanced at Al, Thank you again for discovering it.

It was an atomic bomb? the older woman on the monitor asked.

Most likely, Al said. turning towards the screen. We know that the bomb that exploded in Lebanon definitely was an atomic bomb and this one was much larger.

Was it an old Russian bomb? General Holland asked.

I would say, no, Al replied. Unfortunately, the head technician that was taking it apart was killed in the explosion.

The senator from California spoke up again, angrily, How in the hell did the bomb get there right under our noses, under the White House of all places?

The president answered, raising his voice, At this time, and let me make this clear, all we know for sure is that if Agent Robek had not found it, we might not have a nation’s capital right now, nor be having this meeting.

General Burke leaned in, breaking his silence. He glanced at everyone sitting at the table, with his eyes settling on Senator Carlyle. "Rumors spread quickly, and for the record please do not spread rumors or speculation from this meeting until we confirm what is going on."

Do we even know who put it there? Senator Carlyle asked.

Ms. Churchill interjected, No.

So, in other words, we have nothing, the senator stated.

I wouldn’t go that far, Churchill answered, returning the senator’s stare.

Once we figure this out, the president said, I am going to set an all-time record for the most intense ass-kicking ever, make no mistake about it.

Another eruption of questions arose and the president began answering them, going back and forth across the table.

Al thought it was probably a good time to lie but Ms. Churchill was right; there were no suspects at all unless they hauled in the Masonic lodge and the Vatican for questioning. Of course that would never happen. Or would it? He decided to remain quiet while everyone was taking turns, seeking answers to their many questions.

Ms. Churchill gently nudged him and whispered, We can go now.

He turned and followed her, quietly commenting sarcastically, The show is over.

Yes, for now, she said, leading him out into the next space. They walked past all the military personnel and she continued, This crisis is now in the public view for all to see and the politicians have to say something, so the president is being drilled and it’s only going to get worse.

Still... Al gave her a disapproving glare. I am still not clear about what is going on.

She pushed open the second door leading towards the main cabin. She pulled out a small envelope from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. A lot of people saw what just exploded over Washington and it’s on every newscast in the country, so these same people are counting on you to solve this crisis.

Al stopped on the first metal step and turned around, I honestly don’t know if I can.

We all have faith in you.

Al just shook his head.

And your friend Betty from British Intelligence sent me a message. She hinted that you would understand, and said also a piece of this puzzle has been solved.

She said that? Al asked.

Yes, she did, she said, eyeing the envelope. It’s right there.

Does anybody else know about this? Al gripped the envelope.

Only General Burke, me, and the president, she answered with a wink.

Al nodded. Good, so I have three requests.

Yes?

First, we have to track down a message Jess Contreras got right before she shot all of us in Lebanon. I’m not sure what systems the CIA is using now, but try to track down where it originated.

That we can do.

Next, the chamber under the White House is full of clues that Ed Collins needs. Give him full access and keep out other investigators until he is done. Trust me, he knows what he is doing, and looking for. And, third, whatever you guys do, Al said sincerely, make sure those politicians back there don’t use my name or any of my team’s names in reports to the media.

Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that. She followed him out of the plane and down the steps. Two security men immediately took up positions around her when she reached the bottom. Al noticed Captain McCoumb waiting for him. Ms. Churchill grabbed Al’s hand, squeezed it tightly, and shook it.

Captain McCoumb has your orders, so stay close. We will debrief shortly; and give that letter to Ed Collins.

She then followed her security men into a black SUV and sped off.

Chapter Four

Al stepped over to Captain McCoumb and asked, What now?

This way, he said. As soon as they were a good distance from the plane, Al saw the politicians and General Burke charging down the steps and when the last person hit the ground, the door closed, stairs pulled back, and the 737’s engines increased power. Then, Al noticed the real Air Force One was taking off. They’re outta here, he said.

McCoumb began a slow jog in the direction of the helicopter, Yeah, the Pres is using a decoy aircraft.

That’s what I thought, Al said, following close behind.

McCoumb continued, The big 747 can be easily shot down with ground or space-based lasers so they don’t take any chances.

Al followed him back to the helicopter that still had its engines turning and the door open. McCoumb stopped to let him enter and pointed to a towel and smiled, You might need that to freshen up a bit.

Got it, Al said, climbing back aboard the helicopter. Ms. Churchill told me that you have orders for me.

You’re doing it now.

Okay, how do I get ahold of you? Al asked, grabbing the towel.

I’ll get ahold of you later from the Comm Center. I have a feeling things are going to get a little crazy from now on, he said, and then slid the door closed. The engines increased power immediately and the helicopter lifted off and headed back in the direction of the White House.

As they briefly flew over the city, Al peered out the window and scanned the area. He was convinced that Jess had to be nearby and probably observing the whole scene, but where? She had to be the one under the White House lawn shooting at him, so she still had to be nearby. Suddenly, the chopper jerked upward, breaking his thoughts. He felt it change direction and increase power. Al turned to the pilot and yelled over the engine noise, Hey, where we going?

The pilot turned his head and responded, Langley Air Force Base.

Oh. Al turned back around. He began wiping the dried and chunky debris and dirt off his face and arms. As he did, he wondered what Churchill meant when she said a piece of the puzzle had been solved. He figured he was just going to find out because making a detour was not part of the plan.

He lost track of time but noticed the pilot was soon decreasing power and dropping in altitude towards Langley. The helicopter touched down and Al slid the door open and jumped out. Two security men were waiting with their jackets and ties flapping in the wind. One of them yelled over the engines, Follow us, sir.

Al followed the two men moving swiftly to a medium-size aircraft hangar. They opened a door and motioned for him to enter. He walked in and a man in a Russian military uniform handed him a flight suit designed for high G’s.

What’s this for? Al asked as he grabbed it.

Just put the damn thing on, Vance said from the corner of the room.

Al turned to see him and saw that he was talking on his cell. He appeared to be right in the middle of yelling at someone.

I assure you, Vance said loudly, that we need shooters on every roof for a mile around the White House, damn it. He hung up, smiled with his toothy grin and asked, Okay, so what’s the official presidential scoop?

Who the hell knows, Al said, slipping his right leg into the flight suit. Where’s Ed and Natalie?

Ed’s on his way here.

"And what are you doing here?" Al inquired, slipping in his other leg.

Helping save your sorry ass as usual, but before that I was doing something important like directing nuclear alert teams running around Washington, D.C. looking for more bombs.

They’re not going to find any, Al said.

Probably not, Vance said and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped the top of the pack until one popped up. He reached up and with his lips pulled one out and lit it. After a long drag he asked, So, the President didn’t have anything to say?

No, not really. Al pulled the suit up to his chest, pushing his arms in. It’s all just a gigantic cover-up operation now; nothing but a bunch of politicians and military brass yelling at each other.

And the president?

Yelling at him, too.

Oh, Vance said as he exhaled. Your assessment?

They don’t know what’s going on, Al added, then asked, What about the bomb?

Not my department, said Vance. I just know the president’s men are working on it. Most of the intelligent people are under orders to wait patiently until Ed Collins is done with his once-over and examination of the cavern. What’s bothering me, he continued, is what the bomb technician said before having it lifted out of the hole.

Like when he said the bomb is not from here.

Vance paused a second, What he said was one of those random, strange-like things that have a nasty tendency to shock you. He took a long drag again and exhaled. What do you think he meant by that?

You do catch on quickly, Al said mockingly.

Yeah, Vance said, tapping his cigarette on the table. He watched the ashes hit the ground. If it’s not from here, then where is it from—the moon? He took another drag and exhaled a smoke trail straight up. I think it’s bullshit.

Al zipped the suit up to his neck. Would you mind telling me what is going on?

Vance laughed, Oh, you don’t know?

Why would I ask?

Vance stepped to the opposite door and opened it. Take a look.

Through the open door, Al could see what looked like the side of a plane in the distance. He stepped to the door, looking at it more closely, and uttered, Holy shit.

Vance stepped out behind him into the sun. That, my friend, is a retrofitted MIG-31 fighter interceptor. Isn’t she beautiful?

Hm-m. I’ve seen pictures but never one in person.

Vance pointed with his lit cigarette. It’s an upgrade of the fastest fighter interceptor ever made. Those twin after-burning turbofan engines can get you to the center of the Earth in fifteen minutes.

Or to hell and back, Al added.

It reminds me of an old Sixties muscle car. Unfortunately, nowadays it’s just a global taxi when you need to get somewhere in a hurry.

And, Al asked, where is somewhere?

Don’t know yet.

What?

One of the ground crew walked over and handed Al a black unmarked flight helmet. He slipped it over his head and asked, So, Al checked his watch, what exactly am I going to be doing in this unknown destination in fifteen minutes?

At that moment, Al heard Ed’s British accent from behind him. He turned around as he was stepping through the hangar door.

Betty came out of hiding, Ed said with pride. She found Alex Pike, possibly alive.

That statement surprised Al. Alive?

We found him, Ed continued.

Al tightened his helmet strap. He was skeptical. Did the message say he was actually alive?

Not exactly, Ed replied. What she sent me was an apparently recent communication referencing him. And, considering his body was never found when the three of us were shot, I am sending you to go rescue him.

So all three of us survived her shooting rampage? That doesn’t add up. I saw Jess shoot Alex in the chest. She next shot you, then me.

Lucky bastards, Vance said.

Maybe she wasn’t trying to kill us, Al said.

I agree with your friend here, Ed said. We were lucky.

Al finished strapping his helmet on. Okay, what are the details about Alex?

We don’t know yet. Betty only sent the message with a general location and the CIA is working on specifics. That reminded Al of the letter. He pulled it out. Ms. Churchill asked me to give this to you.

Ed grabbed the envelope, quickly tore it open, and started unfolding the piece of paper inside. By the way, he said, I sent Natalie to investigate the Washington Monument to see if we missed anything.

Vance laughed, Your new girlfriend.

She’s not my girlfriend, Al responded, tightening up the harness.

Well, if you don’t like her... Vance added.

I didn’t say that, but I did see her first.

Uh-huh, Vance said, tossing his cigarette on the ground, but it looks like you’re outta here and I may be alone with her for a while. One of the crew began helping Al into the flight harness when he asked, irritated, Okay, where am I going exactly? Ed looked up from reading the letter, Spain is your destination. Al glanced at Vance and said in a mocking tone, So hell is in Spain? Vance shrugged, stubbing his cigarette out with his shoe, I’m just the message boy.

Ed put his hand on Al’s shoulder. Betty found him and he is most likely being interrogated as we were, but we must be extremely cautious about revealing our plans because there are spies among us.

I painfully get that, Al answered. Ed continued reading the letter. A CIA team has been assembled and will meet with you when you land and provide more details.

I still find it hard to believe he’s alive.

If possible, we need you to apprehend the person interrogating him, Ed said. Vance laughed. Yeah, right.

I’ll try, but no promises.

I understand, Ed said, just bring back my friend. I will speak to the CIA director myself and explain what is going on, but you needn’t worry about that.

Al squared himself with the ground crewman, allowing him to finish strapping on the complex harness. Any word when you will be allowed back into the hole under the White House lawn? I have a feeling we missed something.

I’ll be going back in shortly to do a thorough investigation, Ed answered. He then walked over to the sleek MIG-31 and climbed the small ladder next to the open cockpit. He spoke a few words to the pilot and handed him the letter and the pilot answered with thumbs up.

Vance leaned in and said in a low tone, I bet you fifty bucks that you either kill or lose the bastard.

C’mon darling, you have no faith in me?

Uh, killing yes, capture no.

Al watched Ed return from conversing with the pilot. What are the odds of Alex Pike being alive?

I don’t know. said Vance.

If he really did survive, Al continued, then that would mean that all three of us survived the shooting on the plane in Baalbek, Lebanon. I was lucky when the bullet deflected off a piece of metal in my pocket, but Ed and Alex were shot clean through.

He watched Ed scale back down the ladder and wave him over. And to top it off, Ed was shot in the gut by a large-caliber round hours before he was shot on the plane.

Al and Vance began walking towards the fighter plane. Vance commented, Ed Collins is one tough mother.

Our Russian friend, Ed said, will take care of you from here, so hurry back and return Alex safely.

Just racking up my frequent flyer miles as usual, Al answered, climbing into the back seat behind the pilot. The crewman strapped him in and Al gave Ed and Vance a thumbs-up."

I’ll give Natalie a hug for you, Vance yelled, flashing a thumbs up.

Al flipped him off.

Ed waved back and they both re-entered the hangar just as it began to rain.

The glass canopy closed tight and the powerful engines fired up. After a few minutes, the MIG-31 pilot accelerated forward and began taxing towards the runway. Normally planes he had been in would stop and go a few times before entering the main runway but this pilot intended to take off immediately. As soon as they made a sharp left turn, aiming the pointed nose down the runway, Al felt the pressure of his body being sucked back into the seat as the massive twin engines kicked into full power. This was his first time in a fighter plane and the pilot was not holding back on the juice. The plane lifted off, angled upwards, and before he knew it he could see stars in the middle of the day and the roundness of the earth.

Chapter Five

The Mediterranean

The cold air whipped at her