The Babylon Prophecy: The Templars Strike Back

By Sean Salazar

The race to prevent Armageddon continues With retired CIA agent Al Robek trapped inside the Teton Mountains of Wyoming and a war raging outside, the question lingers: who are these bloody, indestructible Knights and what are they after? Clue after clue is leading Al’s international team to something possessing immense power and importance

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sean Salazar
• Release date: Oct 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781940598833

Book preview

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Estepona, Spain 1:30 a.m.

A single dim light overhead illuminated the center of her small round table in the back corner of the pub. Betty reached from her dark shadow and grabbed the small shot glass. With pale hands, she raised it—saluting symbolically— and whispered, Could this be the end of the line for me?

She then downed it and gently placed the glass on the table, careful not to make any noise to draw unwanted attention to her. She pulled her hand back from the light and placed both hands on her purse to protect it. There were only two others in that dark corner of the Spanish bar. They were a few tables away and she watched them closely.

Betty had picked this exact spot over the last two nights, showing up to drink continuously so as not to allow herself to face  the reality that she was being followed by dangerous people who intended to kill her for what she stole from the Vatican.

The winds of war were in the air, so whenever she ventured outside, she could feel the tension mounting. It seemed that everyone had a look in their eyes that something was wrong with the world, but, Betty thought,  if the masses only knew the truth that was about to be revealed to them. The reality of the secret she knew of the Biblical Armageddon really happening made her feel alone, isolated, and terrified all at once. What was she going to do? How could she get the news to Ed, her trusted friend, of what she had hijacked from the Vatican secret mainframe archives?

As tears again began to flow down her cheeks, she recoiled even further into the dark corner so that no one could see what bad shape she was in, but still she had to be strong and vigilant, but how?

She nervously pressed her hands down on her purse, knowing that the Vatican file she stole may have the answers why and possibly how to stop it, but she had not yet had a chance to slow down and to decipher it. The excitement of the unknown and the fact that she was in the middle of it somehow spurred her to take action. Of what, she did not know, but she knew it should rear its head very soon.

Indulging herself with scotch diminished her fear of the Vatican security men catching or killing her. She released a sly, confident smile, tasting the salty tears through the corners of her mouth. To hell with them! And yet, if they were successful in hunting her down, she had better get this information to Ed as soon as possible. If there was anyone on Earth right at this moment who would understand what she has done, he would. The question now was how to get it to him.

She reached into her bra, fished out a small piece of paper and unfolded it. It was full of handwritten notes she had quickly jotted down after risking a quick read of the file. She was well aware of the imbedded tracking bug that would immediately know her position if she accessed the Internet, but did it anyway. As she read the notes over, she asked herself, why is someone at the Vatican obsessed with Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of The Last Supper? Also, whoever is investigating the painting has the Vatican quietly hunting down secret World War II German submarine missions; why?

World War II certainly was not her specialty, but she was very aware of Hitler’s obsession with ancient secrets and his attempt to obtain whatever he could to help the German war effort. Is this the Vatican’s effort to dig up what the Germans discovered so long ago? If that is the case, then the Germans must have discovered something bloody important. 

From what she was able to hastily read, since the mid-1970’s the Vatican has been secretly looking for the secret destinations of those submarines, as well as the cargo they carried. But now a more important question was what happened to spark that sudden interest within the Vatican in the first place, and why?

She leaned back in her chair and pondered another important point: What in the Lord’s name did Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of The Last Supper have to do with searching for German submarine missions? Were the two related somehow? Pondering the two made her head hurt so for the hundredth time she folded the piece of paper and stuffed it back into her bra.

She then checked her watch—three a.m., safe to leave. Gathering her purse, she stood up, downed the remains of the shot, and faltered. Oh darn, she got up too quickly. With her altered balance she gently stepped around the table. As she did she couldn’t help but to observe the other two notice her, their eyes both darting in her direction. She then stumbled slightly pushing a chair with her knee.

Okay, she thought to herself, enough for being stealthy and sneaking out unnoticed. She then realized she was staring at the couple staring at her. They were close but the alcohol in her made them look as if she was watching them from afar. Dear Lord, she was drunk and it was quite obvious. She stumbled again and conferred with herself that she was not connected to the world, or the floor for that matter. Finally breaking the gaze of the lovers, she again realized she was vulnerable. Not just her unlady-like, scotch-induced stupor, but to the armed assassins chasing her.

She tried to focus hard and took several steps, passing the tables and the two lovers as she made her way to the door.

Once outside, she worked her way back down the dark, empty sidewalk in the direction of the inn where she stayed. After several carefully timed steps, she caught sight of a man with a dark hat coming towards her. His walk seemed measured, and careful. Dear God, she thought, her luck had now run out. Not only was she caught, but she remembered she had not tipped the bartender. She stopped, turned to the side and let her back fall against the brick building, submissively surrendering. She pressed against the brick, feeling the sharpness in the back of her head. She gazed upward at the stars wishing that whatever was going to happen would be quick.

The man walked right past her.

Relieved, she exhaled, not realizing that she was unconsciously holding her breath. She moved away from the brick wall, turned, and watched him walk right into the bar. She was certain that he was an agent from somewhere. On the other hand, did she imagine his confident composure, or was that the scotch? Rolling her head in the direction he came from, she looked for other agents and not seeing any—or anyone else, for that matter—she glanced back at the bar.

Now she had to decide what to do. Should she just continue on to the inn where it was safe or take her chances and go back into the bar where it may be safer? She then turned and looked at the bar entrance and what she saw surprised her. The man with the hat was leaning out the door gazing in her direction.  She couldn’t make out his face in the darkness but knew he was looking right at her. He then ducked back inside. At that second it occurred to her what was going on. She pushed herself away from the wall and began walking back to the entrance. She did the best she could to clear her head and walk in a straight line. Reaching the door, she cautiously stepped back in.

Once inside, she noticed the bartender putting the same bottle of scotch she had enjoyed back onto the dimly lit shelf. That was odd, she thought. It was as if he was expecting her to return? She made her way inside, stepped up to the bar, and looked to see where the man in the hat had gone. Her gaze fell upon the corner she had been in earlier and a slight shock went through her. There he was, sitting in her dark corner, and even more intriguing, he was sitting in her seat, at her table, with two full shot glasses directly under the light. Was that for her? She immediately turned around and eyed the bartender, and caught him watching her.

Fiddle dee dee were her first thoughts as she remembered the famous words uttered by Scarlett O’Hara in the movie Gone with the Wind. It now was clear that with her extensive experience in counter- espionage that the strange man with the hat was working with the bartender. She pushed away from the bar, turned on her heels as gracefully as she could, and approached the stranger sitting in her seat.

As she made her way to the table, she could just barely make out his outline in the shadow but what was unmistakable: the shot glasses were full to the brim.

The two lovers hardly noticed her return as she strolled past their table and stood across from the mysterious man in an almost defiant way. It then occurred to her that maybe he was working with the two lovers. On the other hand, was he working with all three of them?

There followed a long moment of silence and then suddenly it occurred to her that maybe she was mistaken; that this person was not waiting for her.  As she was about to blurt out something embarrassing like I am so sorry, I had you mixed up with someone else, he reached out and grabbed his shot.

I was attempting to be polite, he said, his moving lips barely discernible under the shadow of his hat.

‘I’m sorry, she said, turning around and ready to propel herself out of the bar.  As she took her first step, the man whispered, Wait."

She quickly turned to see him down his shot. He then placed the glass down slowly right next to the other one. She still could not make out his eyes and asked, Who might you be?

Max, he replied.

By the way he struggled with uttering his name, she could tell he wasn’t accustomed to scotch. Smiling, she slowly sat down across from him. He tilted his head towards the other shot glass, indicating it was for her. She reached out and gently gripped it on the upper rim. The glasses were close enough that her fingers touched his. She expected him to pull back, but he didn’t. For a second she held firm, not moving either as the tips of her fingers held the full shot glass. She slid the glass towards her, spilling the scotch as it moved in subtle waves over her fingers. She lifted it, tilted her head back slightly, and poured the scotch down the hatch. Already in the clouds, she was now chasing the buzz which gave her courage at this vulnerable moment. She sat straight, pulled her shoulders back, and placing the empty glass down with a thud, replied, Is that so.

Yes.

She followed his hand as he reached inside his coat. She continued eying his hand as a small envelope came out. He placed it on the table. She recognized it immediately as the property of His Majesty’s secret service. Oh I see, she uttered now, as the purpose of the meeting became more clear.

Ma’am, Max said in a low tone, getting you this message is my primary mission here. No one knows what kind of secret you infiltrated from the Vatican, but whatever it is, they want it back or…

Hm-m, she cut him off, taking control of the conversation, so how did you find me?

We located you by tracking the communications between the Vatican teams scouring the south of Spain.

She rubbed her neck then commented, Well, that shouldn’t have been too difficult. She could almost sense him grinning as he added, And the fact that this establishment is the only one within a hundred kilometers that has both scotch and is known for poker, which you have been reported as enjoying from time to time.

Rubbish, she replied. She had only joined one game. Surely there has to be more than one place stabbing at poker?

He shook his head, and added, No, Commander Ed Collins made it very clear what to look for. She could almost hear him grinning again as he said, Oh, and nice job with the decoy laptop. That embarrassed the Vatican lads quite nicely.

Yes, I agree. That was a nice touch, wasn’t it? she answered, gloating.

He continued, It gave the Vatican chaps many chances to make silly communication mistakes, which there were plenty.

As she watched him confidently tell his story, which in part she knew was to establish trust, something occurred to her. Max, she said slowly, interrupting him, are you certain that you were tracking the Vatican security team to locate me?

As far as we can determine.

She looked away, not sure how to say it, but blurted it out anyway. There are two teams following me, the Vatican and the Brotherhood.

He slowly opened the envelope and replied, I understand.

Oh my, she thought, if he doesn’t know what is going on, I am in trouble. She could see that her statement concerned him and was about to ask more questions when he spoke up.

The Brotherhood, he said confidently, has been following along the Spanish coastline searching for you. The last Brotherhood communications we picked up were at Almeria. The Vatican team over the last twenty-four hours has been focusing on airports and train stations hunting you. He paused a moment and then continued, I am to escort you to Barcelona where we will then proceed to a safe house outside of Rome where you will be picked up. This is a location provided by Commander Ed Collins. He placed the page on the table, its corner touching the spilt scotch.

She observed the scotch slowly soak through the paper brightly under the light and said, Oh, I was wondering when Ed would reach out and touch me. She lifting the wet page off the table and held it under the light. It was written in pencil and obviously in Ed’s writing. She silently read it, and all it indicated was a location outside of Rome. Disappointed, she folded the paper and asked, "So where is good old Ed, by the way?"

As I understand it, he is currently in the State of Wyoming.

Wyoming?

A suspected Brotherhood base has been discovered inside the Teton Mountains; that is all I know.

Very well, she said and then asked jokingly, so I can stop running and you are here to rescue me?

He leaned into the light and she saw his face for the first time. He was definitely attractive in a debonair fashion. Tilting his head, their eyes locked in a stoic way and they both stared without blinking. His square jaw outlined his cheeks as he spoke, No Ma’am.

She remained silent for a moment, unsure what to say. Was he not there to rescue her?

He leaned back out of the light and continued speaking in a low tone, We don’t know yet how many are out there, but we do know one fact for certain.

She grabbed her partially empty shot, downed the remainder of it, And that is?

They are aiming to kill you.

She slowly put the glass down near the edge of the table and said, jokingly, Yes, I know. I was waiting for the sniper head shot; you know— quick and painless.

Ma’am?

She looked at his shadow imagining how he would be in the sunlight. The thought of this being her last day on earth began to excite her. How odd, what’s wrong with me? she thought. Or was it the scotch? Either way, she was easily at least thirty years older than he was.

After a brief silence, he asked, Do you have the information from the Vatican with you?

She twirled the shot glass with her fingers and replied, Yes.  She didn’t say it outright, but she had downloaded it onto a small data storage device she carried around her neck as a precaution.

May I ask where it is?

It’s in a safe location, she lied.

He leaned back out of the light, Good.

Now her intoxicated paranoid mind began to race. Would he rapidly escort me out of here? But, what if the Vatican rebels were watching us?

He then spoke softly into his collar to an unknown accomplice and when he finished he asked, Would you like to relay a message to Commander Ed Collins?

Yes, I would, she said, taking a pencil from her purse. She jotted down a few sentences, folded it, and handed it to him.

Max took it, and stuffed it back in the envelope and raised it up, out of the light.

At first Betty thought by the way he raised his hand he was going to put the letter in his hat, but simply held it high in the shadow. A second later, another hand reached into her field of view and took the envelope. The suddenness of the actions surprised her, and when the hand retreated away from the light she saw who the hand belonged to. Ah, she quietly said, gazing at the bartender. I’ll be damned. It was you.

Make sure that reaches Commander Collins immediately, Max said to the bartender, who silently nodded and departed.

Max then stood up, Shall we?

Betty got up as confidently as she could, and said, I am ready.

I will exit first, he said cautiously as he straightened his trench coat. Wait a few seconds then follow behind; we will continue east to a waiting car. From there we will go to your flat.

Yes, dear, she said, feeling safe for the first time in days.

Max nodded and walked out of the bar.

After waiting a good thirty seconds, Betty gave the bartender a wink and then stepped outside.

Once outside in the chilly night air, still being tipsy, Betty hesitated about which way was east. Then she spotted him in the direction he had come from initially and quietly followed him down the dark street. Once she caught up with him, neither spoke a word but she thought she might have overheard him whispering into his collar again; she wasn’t sure.

After passing the third street corner and stepping onto the curb, Max suddenly stopped. She wanted to inform him they were approaching her secret inn when she suddenly caught sight of a piece of brick pop off the dark wall next to her. Or did it? It was too dark to see for sure. Time seemed to stand still as the sound of something hitting the pavement and brushing her leg almost tripped her up. Three, Two, One, she instinctively stooped over, and as she did another piece of wall exploded in a small dark cloud. At that moment, she realized what had hit her leg. It was Max, his lifeless body lying face down on the pavement. She knew what had just happened.

She was being shot at! With that realization, her drunken mind commanded her to run as fast as she could.

PART TWO

Chapter 2

Aboard Air Force One 737 at 36,000 feet circling over the State of Texas.

President Burkholder, with his tie undone and completely unshaven, quickly walked down the aircraft starboard walkway. Following the attack on Washington D.C., and the massacre the mysterious armored Knights had perpetrated on the University of Georgia, it was a national security risk for him to be on the ground; he was now a prisoner aboard this plane.

He walked past several Air Force officers as well as civilian men and women busily working at their computer stations and joined the Secretary of Defense, Mr. Oppenheimer, who looked just as untidy as he. With the top buttons of his white shirt undone, rolled-up sleeves, unshaven and messy hair, even with all that, he had something very important under his arm. It was a simple manila folder containing an up-to-date report of the escalating religious massacres around the world and a new situation occurring in the Teton Mountain range in Wyoming.

Oppenheimer was leaning over one of the several Air Force officers who were sitting at a row of computer terminals. About half a dozen of them were busy typing and speaking into their lip microphones. Above the stations was a row of old-fashioned round clocks showing different time zones throughout the world. On the far right, over the last station was a medium-size digital map of the world. Small red lights illustrated situations of concern—at this moment, illuminated all over the Middle East, Africa, Southern Russia and Asia. Blinking lights indicated areas of imminent concern—Washington D.C., Atlanta, Georgia, and a new one in the State of Wyoming. The president watched the slowly blinking lights wondering what was truly happening on the ground in those locations. An aide broke his brief fixation and handed him and the Secretary cups of hot coffee.

As the aroma of coffee filled the air, Oppenheimer glanced over at the President and opened with, Car bombs and suicide bombers are exploding outside of Christian churches and Muslim mosques all over the Middle East and Asia. He paused, with an expressionless look as if he was simply reading the morning paper. He then glanced back at the monitors, took a sip of coffee and went on, Hundreds are reported killed.

The president replied, That simple fact is becoming more and more obvious.

Oppenheimer opened the file and pulled out a piece of paper, handed it to the president, and said, And there is something else you should be aware of.

President Burkholder took the report, saying, It was my hope that the world leaders could calm the situation on their own, but the tired look in your eyes tells me otherwise.

Oppenheimer shook his head, Unfortunately, you’re right.

The president glanced at the page briefly and sighed, acknowledging the reality of the situation. Talk to me.

Apparently, the warning of a Biblical Armageddon that our British friend Ed Collins told us about is unfolding as we speak.

The president slowly shook his head. Go ahead.

Along with everything else going on, about an hour ago, four Jewish men were dragged atop Mt. Zion and shot execution-style in front of a crowd of cheering onlookers. Several armed men shot back and they were then killed by the Israeli military. That attack prompted Muslims to attack Jews randomly throughout the city and it’s getting ugly, I mean really ugly, and it’s escalating.

And the Israeli Army… what are they doing about it?

It’s hard to say, the Secretary replied, as if he was struggling with that question himself. I spoke to the Israeli defense minister a while ago, and he informed me they intend to surround Mount Zion in an attempt to contain the violence and prevent any more attacks from surrounding areas.

In the hope the situation would just calm down on its own? the president asked.

Oppenheimer nodded, taking a sip of coffee, Most likely.

The president glanced over at the backs of several officers busily working at their terminals. How are the other Middle East countries responding?

I spoke to CIA Director right after the Israeli defense minister and she said almost every country from India all the way to Morocco right now is dealing internally with the spreading church massacres and the threat of more to come. In other words, if the massacres pitting Muslims, Jews and Christians against each other are not stopped, then many well-intentioned and formerly peaceful countries across the Middle East and Africa that are on the fence right now could lean toward extremism once again.

And your opinion?

To be honest, I feel it is highly likely most, if not all, Muslim-dominated countries will tip toward the Muslim uprisings and go against Israel.

That’s not what I wanted to hear, the president replied, so in other words, another out-of-control Middle East war.

That it is, Mr. President, although I spoke to several European leaders and the Russian president and all assured me that they are with us to get this situation under control. He then paused a moment and added, Unfortunately, the Chinese seemed to abstain because I suspect that there are old-school hardliners in China that are using this crisis to their advantage.

The president exhaled loudly. This is what I was afraid of was happening and the last thing the world needs is a deep-seated Muslim holy war, combined with a re-emergence of hard line Communists taking advantage of the situation.

If they were waiting for a spark to ignite the situation, Oppenheimer added, this is clearly it.

The president then stepped closer to the digital map of the world with its many red lights, noticing a pattern. The lion share of small lights were illuminated from Morocco in northern West Africa and continued across to East Africa, all through the Middle East to Pakistan, engulfing one long strip of the world. He raised his coffee cup and said, This is quickly beginning to remind me how the Cold War started with two camps forming along a red line of death.

"In this case, red lights of death."

The president then focused his attention on the blinking red dot over Wyoming and asked, So where in the hell is the all-encompassing crisis- finding agent Al Robek in all this?

Oppenheimer motioned his cup toward the lights in Wyoming. That is a good question. The last sighting of him was in Wyoming shortly after a group of hunters had a shootout with the armored Knights. As of now, he is trapped somewhere inside the Teton Mountains rumored to have been lost in an underground river.

The president furrowed his brow, completely lost. "What do you mean, inside the mountain?"

The Secretary was about to reply when the female Air Force officer sitting to their left spoke up, Mr. President, we have a live report coming in from the Teton Mountains in Wyoming.

Speak of the Devil, Oppenheimer joked.

Who is it? the president asked.

I have Captain McCoumb online now, Mr. President, she replied, turning in her chair.

Both men now saw the image on the officer’s screen.

A hazy, smoky view emerged. The president immediately recognized the Marine captain who had been involved in this crisis from Day One. He was in full combat gear and covered in dirt. Several soldiers were visible in the background, as well as what looked like the burning hulk of a helicopter.

The sight of the scene caused the President to take a step back and utter, Dear God.

Captain McCoumb turned to face the camera, adjusting his earpiece. He appeared to be under heavy stress as he said, Hello, Mr. President.

Give us an update, Captain, the president demanded.

Well, Mr. President, the situation is bad. We arrived originally with local National Guard soldiers to cover the rescue of agent Al Robek. The Knights trapped him and a small rescue team inside the mountain.  Agent Vance Mahoney and a British Special Forces soldier were both injured in the initial rescue attempt but we were able to retrieve them before the Knights’ initial assault on the mountain. He paused a moment as a soldier hurried past him and then continued, Mr. President, we were forced to retreat off the ridge and are gathering our dead and wounded. We are now digging in for the Knights’ next attack.

The seriousness of the situation had caught the president off-guard. He looked at Secretary Oppenheimer, who was intently listening, then glanced back at the monitor and asked, "What do you mean attacked?"

Mr. President, it’s difficult to explain. The Knights that are attacking have been confirmed to be the same type that attacked the University of Georgia yesterday, but this time there are more of them.

The president leaned back from the monitor and crossed his arms. The signs of the burning helicopter in the background and the urgency in the captain’s voice evoked a sense of desperation, causing him to take a deep breath as he contemplated what to do next. Now he sensed something strange around him. All of a sudden he noticed that he couldn’t hear all the chatter from the crew working at their computer stations, which he had become accustomed to the last two days.  Glancing to the right and left down the aircraft cabin, he was completely taken aback and moved by what he saw. All around him were the best-trained soldiers in the world at virtually every level, but right now there was something different in the air that he had not seen since the twin towers were attacked by terrorists in New York. The entire crew and every Air Force officer sitting or standing had their eyes glued to the screen, listening in on Captain McCoumb’s report. They were both fixated and mesmerized— frozen like porcelain statues. The president looked at each of their faces and no one even flinched or noticed that he was staring at them. Even his hardened and stern Secretary of Defense had a shocked look.

The president turned back to the monitor, realizing that the looks he saw on everyone’s face absolutely told him something he didn’t want to know or was unwilling to accept.

They were at war.

It was a different type of war than the war on terror, but the president knew that this was his Pearl Harbor moment and he needed to be strong and decisive even though deep inside he was baffled as to how to proceed. He straightened up and yelled, Get back to your stations!

As everyone scattered back to work, Secretary Oppenheimer leaned in closer and asked Captain McCoumb, There were only four Knights that attacked the University; can you estimate how many you are dealing with now?

The captain seemed to hesitate before answering the question but finally said, We don’t know, but the armored Knights seem to have a stronghold here. He then added, Sir, we did not know nor have proper intelligence of who we were up against. The… He paused as a soldier almost ran into him again. He repeated, It is definitely the same Knights that hit the University, but also, Mr. President, we got caught in a confusing crossfire that is causing havoc among the troops.

What is it? the president asked, attempting to remain as composed as he could.

It appeared that the Knights were attacked by another unknown force that we have yet to identify.

You have got to be kidding, Oppenheimer said, shaking his cup enough to spill it. You are telling us that a battle is taking place in the mountains of Wyoming between the Knights, our United States Marines, National Guard soldiers… and something else?

Captain McCoumb nodded as the reply hit his ear piece. He then said loudly, Yes, sir, that is exactly what I am saying. The Knights were blasting us to pieces, then out of nowhere, another heavily armed force came up from the south side of the mountain from the direction of Jackson Lake. From the fragmented reports I have received, they apparently went blow-for-blow with the Knights and a few of our men and National Guard troops were killed in the initial crossfire.

The president did the best he could to maintain his leadership-like composure and asked, Again, you have no idea who or what this second force was?

No, Mr. President, at this time we have not identified who they are.

Give us your honest opinion of the situation.

Mr. President, to be honest, our light weapons and grenades are useless against the Knights. I wouldn’t recommend sending in attack helicopters because the ones here have been all but shot down and we absolutely cannot maneuver heavy vehicles in these mountains.

He paused, covering his face as a black plume of smoke crossed the screen. Once the smoke passed he continued almost hesitantly, "Mr. President, when my position was overrun by the Knights, I saw one of them get hit by a shoulder-fired anti-tank missile with no effect."

The president looked at Mr. Oppenheimer who was slowly shaking his head in disbelief.  Oppenheimer then asked, Do you have reinforcements coming?

Affirmative, the captain replied. We have reinforcements and emergency supplies arriving now from Warren Air Force Base, but I would caution against it until we figure out how to take one of these things down.

The president immediately said, Okay, Captain, what do you recommend?

My impression is that the Knights are viciously defending or protecting something in these mountains that we have not identified yet, so my suggestion would be to set up a perimeter around the Teton Mountain range and regroup.

Give us an update on Al Robek. You mentioned he was trapped; has he been recovered from the mountain yet?

Negative, Mr. President, not that I am aware of.

Oppenheimer spoke, I understand Ed Collins arrived on scene.

Yes, sir, he replied, I received confirmation that his aircraft has arrived at Jackson Airport and he will be arriving on scene soon.

The president simultaneously grabbed his forehead, felt a chill go down his spine, and looked at Oppenheimer quietly muttering, Damn, this is not good.

The Secretary leaned in to muffle his response, We absolutely cannot allow Ed Collins to become a casualty. If we lose Agent Robek in this fight and then Ed Collins falls, we will be up shit creek without a paddle, because those two are the only people who know what the hell is going on.

The president exhaled, quietly replying in his ear so no one around could hear, "I agree, we need to immediately get him out of there.

All right, he said, looking back at McCoumb and in a somber tone ordered, Captain, I appreciate your mission, therefore I am tasking you personally to take charge of the rescue of agent Al Robek and I need you to not allow Ed Collins anywhere near the combat zone.

Captain McCoumb nodded as if he had been punched and replied, Yes, Mr. President, I won’t let you down.

Good luck, Captain. The screen flashed back to the previous information and the president stepped back to observe everyone back to work at their stations. He then turned and eyed the digital map of the world, focusing on the tiny blinking dot in the Teton Mountains which appeared like a mini heartbeat. Leaning toward Oppenheimer’s ear again, he murmured, "We have to save agent Al Robek and Ed Collins."

The Secretary slowly nodded while looking straight ahead. The president knew he sensed the seriousness of the situation and was not reacting to the statement deliberately so as not to cause alarm. Oppenheimer then casually took another sip of coffee and quietly replied, Lord, help them.

Chapter 3

One hour earlier One mile deep inside the Teton Mountains, Wyoming USA. 

With the sounds of the river echoing all around the cave-like tunnel, Vance carefully aimed his light at the path he and his British Special Forces companion Major Reeves followed. He absolutely did not want to accidentally make a wrong step in the dark and fall in.

You know, Vance whispered, "almost my entire career, I have been either rescuing Al, or visiting him in some hole-in-the-wall hospital. One day, someone is going to make a movie called Finding Al, and I or a bloodhound will be the starring idiots always searching for him."

It’s been several hours. Do you think we’ll find him? Major Reeves whispered from behind.

Vance replied, almost laughing, Searching for Al when he is trapped underground is like searching for a haystack on a needle. We will find him, that’s for sure, but the question is how? Usually he is blowing shit up so we are most likely following his mess.

I don’t know about that, we are very deep into the mountain, the major replied. I don’t think explosives will work this time.

Vance didn’t reply and continued along the dark path. Maybe he’s right, he thought, and then, as he eyed what looked like a layer of black soot covering the ground and cave walls, said I have to admit, Al has never been this deep underground.

Major Reeves knelt over and wiped the ground with his hand. When he lifted his hand it was black. There must have been a fire down here at one time. He then aimed his light at smeared footprints in the black soot on the ground.

Vance was about to reply when he saw something written on the cave wall. It was a, SMOKE SHOP AHEAD.

They both continued along the river following the tracks and Vance was the first to notice a small metal bridge that appeared to span the narrow river. They both aimed their lights toward the bridge, but the tracks continued down the path, so Vance motioned with his light to continue on past the bridge.

A short distance up ahead, both Vance and Reeves focused their lights on the path at what looked like an open book.

Reeves knelt down and examined the book briefly. This is quite an unlikely find. It’s handwritten in German and has a map, he said, standing up. It’s a…

Vance cut him off, Very funny again, asshole.

Reeves glanced up and read the writing on the wall that Vance was staring at, BEER NEAR. Below that was another arrow pointing down the path.

Vance had his light on a large arrow below the writing. He aimed his light ahead and said, Shall we push on and find this smart ass?

Reeves smiled, dropped the book, and quickly led the way, shining his light on the corner of