C. Palov - Ark of Fire

“I’ve heard this story,” Caedmon murmured, hit squarely with the ghostly specter of his Oxford days.

“Careful, Mr. Aisquith. In this game, a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.” Eliot Hopkins smiled, a kindly man offering a sage word of advice. “If you are familiar with the tale, then you undoubtedly have guessed at the final resting place of the Ark of the Covenant.”

Refusing to take the bait, Caedmon went on the offensive. “Why are you being so forthcoming with us? For years you’ve gone to great lengths to keep your pursuit of the Ark a secret, and I’m at a loss to understand your sudden burst of loquaciousness.”

Grimacing, the museum director slid his gloved hand inside his wool topcoat. “Because it is inconsequential whether you know or don’t know.”

“And why is that?”

Eliot Hopkins removed his hand from his coat, a German-made Walther pistol clenched in his fist. “Because I have been ordered to kill you.”

CHAPTER 28

With only a wolf and an eagle to bear witness to their deaths, Caedmon affected a calm he didn’t feel. “I say, old boy. That’s not very cricket of you.”

“You’re a fool to think you can get away with murdering us,” Edie hissed, tacking her vessel in an entirely different direction.

One side of Eliot Hopkins’s mouth lifted in a rueful half smile. “Killing you and your charming companion will be the least of my crimes.”

“You’re actually going to kill us in cold blood all because of some religious artifact? Gold stuff! That’s all it is.”

“None of the biblical artifacts mentioned in the Bible can compare with the Ark of the Covenant,” Hopkins whispered, the gun unsteadily wavering in his gloved hand. “The Ark contains the majesty and glory of Yahweh. It alone could inspire or destroy a nation.”

“Or a man,” Caedmon murmured, the Ark about to claim its next two victims.

Raising the gun a few inches higher, Hopkins pointed it at Edie’s chest. “I do hope you will forgive my actions, but if I don’t comply with their orders, they’ll kill my daughter.”

“‘They’ being your mysterious consortium, aka the Warriors of God.”

Despite her brave façade, Caedmon felt the tremble in Edie’s shoulder. Although he was tempted to put a comforting arm around her shoulder, he refrained. Instead, he said, “I can see to it that no harm comes to your daughter.”

“Olivia presently attends boarding school in Switzerland.” As he spoke, tears welled in Eliot Hopkins’s eyes. “My hands are tied. I have but one child. She alone is my hope for the future. My legacy.”

“I can contact Interpol,” Caedmon pressed, using the only gambit he had to play. “Within the half hour your daughter will be placed in protective custody.”

“Entrust my daughter to strangers more than four thousand miles away?” The museum director wearily shook his head. “You ask the impossible.”

Refusing to surrender, Caedmon pressed a bit harder. “Yesterday afternoon, in your museum, Jonathan Padgham was senselessly slain. Let us stop this madness before anyone else is killed.”

“I can’t stop the madness,” the older man croaked, barely audible. “I am truly sorry. I have no choice but to—”

Quite unexpectedly, a lion roared in the distance, a deep-throated bawl that rumbled through the leafless trees and echoed off the ice-laden boulders. The stentorian bellow momentarily distracted the elderly angel of death as Eliot Hopkins nervously glanced about.

Caedmon had no way of knowing whether it was divine intervention or a bit of serendipity. He only knew it was the moment to act. Before the window slammed shut.

Carpe diem , he silently invoked, his thighs, buttocks, and biceps all tightening as he yanked the closed umbrella from where it hung on his forearm, hurling it like a spear. That done, he shoved Edie out of the line of fire, pushing her behind a massive cement trash receptacle. He watched as the umbrella hit its mark, the stainless steel tip hitting Eliot Hopkins square in the chest.

Stunned by the force of the unexpected blow, Hopkins dropped the handgun to the pavement, where it skittered along the icy surface.

About to retrieve the gun, Caedmon stopped in his tracks as a bullet whizzed past in the wrong direction, slamming into Eliot Hopkins’s heart and killing him on impact.

There was a sniper on the hillside!

It had been a setup. None of them was to have left the zoo alive.

Knowing that in combat, he who hesitates is lost, Caedmon lurched behind the trash receptacle, using his body to shield Edie’s quivering backside.

“I’m beginning to think that ‘the land of the free’ means free to shoot and kill,” he muttered against her ear.

“He’s on the hill, above the bald eagle, isn’t he?”

Caedmon nodded, knowing they’d been followed by a professional assassin, the man’s movements so smooth, so subtle that he’d tracked them into the zoo, then faded into the landscape. If they showed themselves, he would expertly fire two kill shots. Men trained to kill at a distance did so without remorse or regret, the action no different than breathing.

Edie peered at him from over her shoulder, a stricken expression on her face. “Please tell me that you’ve got a plan.”

“I don’t,” he truthfully replied. Although he had better come up with a plan bloody quick. They had only a few seconds before the sniper readjusted his gun sights.

Briefly he considered lunging forward and retrieving the Walther pistol. Just as quickly, he rejected the idea, certain he’d take a lead bullet to the head for his troubles.

“May I take a peek inside your tote?” he asked, tugging on the canvas bag she had clutched to her midsection.

Edie wordlessly complied, opening the tote for his inspection. With no time for niceties, he riffled through the bag’s contents, removing her khaki-colored waistcoat.

“Perfect.” Reaching beside him, he grabbed a fistful of snow.

“What are you doing?”

“Weighting the garment so I can toss it through the air. If we’re lucky, the sniper will see the sudden motion, take aim, and fire. The ruse won’t gain us more than a few precious seconds, but that’s all the time we’ll need to get our arses behind those rocks.” With a lift of the chin, he indicated the jumble of boulders some twenty meters from their current position.

If she had misgivings, and no doubt she did, she kept them to herself.

A brave woman, indeed.

Hoping the venture didn’t prove deadly, Caedmon quickly tied the ends of the waistcoat into a knot, securing the icy ball of snow. Silently mouthing the words On three , he counted to two before tossing the waistcoat through the air. A perfectly bowled cricket delivery.

There being no time to observe the arc and descent of the makeshift decoy, Caedmon snatched Edie by the hand. Bending at the waist, making himself as small a target as possible, he charged toward the clustered rocks. Behind him, he heard a bullet ping off the metal handrail that fronted the Mexican wolf exhibit.

The ruse had worked.

With Edie in tow, he dodged behind a waist-high boulder. Assuming a crouched position, they pressed themselves against the oversized stone.

Quickly, he glanced from side to side. In the hilly terrain above the bald eagles, he thought he detected a blurred figure in a black anorak. A deadly specter on the prowl.

“It would be suicide for us to retrace our steps to the main entrance,” he said in a hushed tone, fearful that if they didn’t find another means of escape they would meet the same fate as the dead museum director.