Ark of Fire

CHAPTER 83

Hurriedly Caedmon made his way up the treacherous path cut into the side of the limestone cliff, grateful for the faint light shed by the cluster of stars overhead. Particularly because he couldn’t risk using the torch. At least not until he had reached the summit and surveyed the area. MacFarlane would undoubtedly have sentries posted. Men who would not hesitate to shoot at a stray beam of light.

His forty-year-old knees aching from the strenuous ascent, he was very much aware of the fact that he no longer had the power and might of Her Majesty’s government behind him. He was on his own. The lone and hungry wolf.

He snorted, amused by the thought.

In sheep’s clothing, I daresay.

Huffing slightly, he reached the top, the top being a treeless, rocky plateau. About two hundred meters to the northwest, he could discern the outline of St. Paul’s tower, the only visible landmark on the barren escarpment. Once, long centuries ago, the Knights of St. John had used the tower to signal ships at sea. Wishing he had a pair of night-vision goggles, he thought he saw what looked to be a large military transport truck parked beside the tower.

MacFarlane could possibly have the Ark stored inside St. Paul’s tower. Out of sight from prying eyes. Or stowed inside the truck, ready for transport.

Standing motionless, he scanned the rocky terrain, searching for a telltale sound or a blurred bit of motion. Something to indicate that he was not alone. That others lurked in the shadows.

A good two minutes passed before he saw a faint flicker, little more than a pinprick of light.

A burning cigarette.

The target sighted, he set forth.

As he navigated his way across the bramble-strewn escarpment, his thoughts turned to the Knights of St. John, who for nearly three centuries had patrolled those same craggy heights, safeguarding their domain from Turkish corsairs. During the Great Siege of 1565, sixty of those stalwart knights had defended the fort at St. Elmo against a Turkish force numbering eight thousand strong. Perhaps this night, history would repeat itself.

Lord, he hoped so. The thought that he might never again set his gaze upon Edie Miller’s face left him bereft.

He quickly shoved the wayward thought aside, turning his attention to the man negligently leaning against a large slab of limestone, a lit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

And an H&K MP5 submachine gun cradled against his chest.

Though it was difficult to see in the murky shadows, Caedmon assumed the man’s finger was on the trigger and that the safety had been disengaged.

Coming to a standstill, keeping to the shadows cast by the limestone outcropping, he slid the five-inch diving knife from its sheath. The hilt securely grasped in his right hand, he inched forward, hoping the sentry didn’t suddenly spin around. Praying he didn’t inadvertently kick a loose stone. To his dismay, he saw that the other man had a communications device protruding from the side of his head.

If the sentry so much as whimpered, the game would be over before it even began.

Caedmon slowed his breathing. An age-old trick to calm one’s nerves.

Then, having come to within two feet of the sentry, he lunged forward.

In one smooth, surefooted motion, the movement ingrained from his long-ago training, he grasped the other man from the rear, clasping a hand over his mouth as he yanked his head back, exposing the jugular vein and carotid artery. First he slashed. Then he ripped.

Warm blood gushed from the opened artery.

A silent kill.

As the sentry dropped to the ground, Caedmon shoved his finger into the weapon’s trigger guard and yanked the H&K MP5 out of the dying man’s grasp, knowing that a spent round would be his undoing.

Sliding his arm through the submachine gun’s shoulder strap, he crouched beside the now-dead sentry, relieving him of the radio equipment, the device both a blessing and a beast. Although he’d be able to monitor sentry movement in and around the tower, when the dead sentry failed to report in, MacFarlane and his cutthroats would know they had an enemy in their midst.