Pandora's Ark

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Bonasero Vessucci and Kimball were inside the SIV Command Center alongside Fathers Essex and Auciello. They sat along a console before multiple screens watching the world play out before them from live satellite feeds. They watched the skirmishes in the southern Philippines, the multiple atrocities going on in Africa, and the rampaging crusades in the Middle East and Syria. The world was a mess, and the messes were piling high.

Father Auciello toyed with a dial, zooming in on a location in the Alborz region. On the master screen he singled in on the coordinates given by a Mossad agent who was able to send an encrypted message to Tel Aviv regarding an unchartered facility dealing with the manufacturing of a WMD. From their overhead vantage point they could spy down and zoom in to the point where they could see the two gunnery nests and the fuel cells lining the ridgeline. They also spotted a helipad and a lot with two canvas-covered transport vehicles to carry mobile units.

“We’ve been staying on top of Mossad since their mention of the Ark of the Covenant,” said Auciello, playing the dial until the screen came into sharp focus. “It appears that the operative got a message out regarding the facility’s clandestine operations.”

“Creating weapons of mass destruction,” Kimball commented.

“Exactly. Furthermore, he’s confirming the location of the Ark.” He took his hand away from the dial. “It’s there, gentlemen, inside that facility. The question is: why place the Ark of the Covenant inside a manufacturing center that is constructing a weapon of mass destruction? Why take the Ark from the grounds of the Temple Mount and send it to the Alborz region? What’s their purpose? Or do they have a purpose? What’s their agenda?”

They were solid inquiries that nobody had answers to, the questions serving as ill-fitting pieces to a vague puzzle.

Kimball shifted in his seat and studied the screen, his eyes squinting in the quasi-darkness. He absorbed the makeup of the land, the surrounding paths and the serpentine road that led to the facility. He marked the gunnery nests in his mind and noted the helipad at the ridgeline close to the fenced-in fuel cells. He was tracing a map in his mind.

“We also intercepted messages from Prime Minster Netanyahu and his Defense Minster,” added Essex, “to the president of the United States conveying Israel’s concern that the facility poses a major threat to Israel’s sovereignty; therefore, they are in the planning stages of committing to a preemptive strike against the facility in the near future should they decide to act, even though it’s against the wishes of the United States for fear of rising fuel costs, as well as placing Israel on the verge of war with Iran, which may incite other Arab nations to join in the skirmish. Right now Israel is on the fence leaning towards attack, but the United States is stalling them.”

“If they strike, then the Ark will be lost forever,” said Bonasero.

“If they should strike,” said Essex. “Israel hasn’t fully committed yet.”

“It is never the Church’s intent to get involved with political events or the involvements of warring government factions, but the Ark is a sacred relic and an interest of the Church,” he said. “In this case, we know where the Ark of the Covenant is. We also know that this facility is in the process of creating a weapon of mass destruction that may undermine the stability of the Middle East, should Israel commit to an airstrike. Should that be the case, then the Ark will be forever lost.”

Kimball knew where this was going.

The pope faced the Vatican Knight. “Good could be borne from evil,” he said to him evenly. “We know where the Ark is, we know the intent of this facility. We send in a team to extract the Ark and destroy the facility before Israel commits to battle. That way, Israel cannot be held responsible, though an accusing finger will most certainly be pointed their way.” Bonasero stood, laboring to a stance, then moved closer to the screen. “We get the Ark, take out the facility, and place Israel in a position to avert war.”

“Bonasero, this won’t be an easy task,” said Kimball. “We’re talking about breaching a highly-secured facility manned by Quds, an elite force. Not an easy task.” Kimball pointed to the screen. “The landscape is elevated, giving them the advantage of the high point. There’s one road leading in and out of the area — not good for escape should factions come up on the rear and box us in. The facility itself is secured with gunnery nests overlooking the entryway. Combat space is minimal. The only positive is the helipad, which could be a viable method of escape should a helicopter be stationed there. Even then we would be in Iranian air space and the chopper too slow to outrun their jets.”

“You have to have faith, Kimball. There’s a solution for everything.”

“Bonasero, you’re asking me to place my men into a situation that’s impossible.”

The pontiff returned to his seat. “You’re a Vatican Knight,” he said softly. “And of course your skills and insight are invaluable, and your insight to combat far greater than mine. But we’re not talking just about the Ark of the Covenant here. We’re talking about a weapon that could destroy countless lives, perhaps even initiate a war between nations where untold scores of innocent people die. We are in a position to do something about this. You and your team have the skills to pull this off.”

Kimball held back for a moment, contemplating. He had performed missions in the past hinging on the thought that they were impossible to pull off, the risks too high, the outcome deemed too low to be successful. But he had come to learn over time that the word ‘impossible’ didn’t mean that something couldn’t be done; it only measured the degree of difficulty.

“It’ll have to be quick,” he finally said. “How long before Israel commits to a strike, you think?”

Father Essex shrugged, hazarding a guess. “Two, maybe three days at the most. I can’t speak for Israeli’s Defense agency. I can only give you what I have, which is that Israel is non-committal at this time. But I don’t think they’ll hang in that balance too much longer. Sooner or later they’ll make a decision. And I believe that decision will be to commit to a strike, whether they have the approval of the United States or not.”

Kimball asked Auciello to zoom out in order to give him a much more overhead view and spread of the layout. The area was mountainous, one ridgeline higher than the other heading to the west. Obviously the road was out, not a good strategy to take since it would be highly manned with security. They would have to get to the facility another way. And then deal with the gunnery nests and the Quds. They would have to breach the complex, exit with the Ark, destroy the fuel cells, and escape. His head was spinning. No matter how he looked at it, no matter from what angle or vantage point, he saw nothing positive, the requirements too much to overcome.

“How are we going to get the Ark out of there?” he asked softly. “We could commandeer one of the trucks; put the Ark in the back. But then we’d be running a gauntlet to get away since there’s only one road leading to the lower elevation where I’m sure the opposition will be waiting.”

“There’s the helipad,” said Essex. “Once you engage and clear the area, then we can land a chopper big enough to carry the Ark and the Knights. Run your combat mission, grab the Ark, set the charges at the fuel cells, and then off we go. We can fly low enough to escape radar detection. But if we fly too low, and given that we have to run at night, poses a problem since we’d be flying at low attitudes in a mountain range. We’ll have to go in with NVG capability and fly northwest to Turkey.”

“And the pilot?”

“We have operatives with exceptional ability,” said Auciello. “We employ a select few who are pilots in service with the Vatican through the Aeronautica Milatare. They’re mission is to serve the Church with no questions asked.”

“So we have the means of escape,” said Kimball. “We can set off an explosive at the fuel cells from a cell phone inside the chopper once we’re airborne, leveling the facility if the fuel cells are volatile enough. All that remains is how are we going to get to the facility without drawing the opposition’s fire.” He studied the map further. And then: “Father Essex, that ridge to the west, what’s its elevation point compared to the ridgeline of the facility?”

Essex went to a keyboard and typed in commands, the image going from sky view to ground view. From there he was able to calculate the differences. The ridgeline Kimball inquired about was approximately 2,200 feet higher than the facility’s. There was his vantage point. “And how far away is it?” he asked. Essex drew a computerized ruler from point A to point B. The distance was two clicks, approximately one-point-two miles.

Perfect! Now he had his entry point.

“And how do you plan to do that?” asked Bonasero

“We can’t risk choppers for entry,” said Father Essex. “It would be too risky. You’d have to go in silent.”

“Going in by chopper was the furthest thing from my mind,” he answered.

“Then how do you plan to breach the compound?” ask Bonasero. “Do you plan to fly in on the wings of eagles?”

Kimball smiled slyly and nodded. “Close,” he said. “Very close.”

No one knew what he was talking about.

And then, after getting to his feet, Kimball said, “We need to move.”

“The United States does not approve of our stance,” said Yitzhak Paled. He sat behind his desk with his hands clasped together in an attitude of prayer. The top button of his shirt was undone, the knob of his tie lowered. On the mini screen on his desk was the Defense Minister, Ehud Barak. “They feel that Iran will retaliate and press us into war. What they fail to see is that Iran has already made that decision.”

Barak appeared somber. The inevitable had finally come to Israel’s doorstep. “Then we will act accordingly,” he said. “The IDF is on alert. However, the prime minister is not without political etiquette. He is informing the United States that there is no other alternative as we speak. War may be inevitable, Yitzhak. Hopefully, should their president lend his support, it might be enough to deter other Arab nations from uniting with Iran with military efforts.”

From his end Yitzhak could hear Barak’s line drone. On screen, he watched Barak wave his hand at him as a gesture to be excused and picked up the phone.

“I see,” he said into the phone, nodding. “Yes… I understand.” He hung up and stared at the phone as if expecting it to ring again. It didn’t. So he faced Yitzhak through the monitor. “That was the Ramatkal at the IDF,” he said.

And?

Barak leaned closer to the screen. “The command was given. We attack the facility within the next twenty-four hours without the support of the United States.”