Stones of Fire

81

Like a miser counting pennies, the crescent moon stingily cast a jaundiced light upon the choppy sea. Its lantern extinguished, the small fishing vessel steadily made its way towards the barren chunk of limestone in the distance. Calypso’s Point. The captain, a wizened salt who spoke no English, stood at the helm. Amply compensated for his services, he cared nothing about the peculiarities of the voyage.

Cædmon glanced at Edie, only the pale oval of her face visible in the inky darkness, both of them garbed in diving suits with matching black hoods.

‘You know, maybe we should let British intelligence handle this,’ Edie said in a hushed voice. ‘It’s not too late.’

Seated across from her, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the top of his thighs. ‘Until MacFarlane actually steps foot inside Jerusalem, there’s little that anyone can do to stop him. While the intelligence agencies will do all in their power to prevent a terrorist act from occurring on the Temple Mount, they won’t be able to act until they have material proof that MacFarlane intends to commit the unthinkable. I am no longer bound by such dictates.’

‘Yeah, but short of killing Mac —’ She slapped a hand over her mouth. A second later, she lowered it. ‘That’s what you’re intending to do, isn’t it?’

‘In order to destroy a snake, one must decapitate it.’

‘But what if the snake turns around and bites you?’

Rather than answer the question, he said, ‘I think you should return to Valletta with the captain.’

‘I told you already, you’ll have to knock me unconscious to stop me from going with you to Calypso’s — What’s happening?’ she hissed, clearly startled.

‘No need for alarm. The captain has just cut the engine.’

‘So this is our stop, huh?’ She stared at the forbidding promontory that loomed above the small vessel.

Cædmon peered up. The limestone cliff rose approximately six hundred feet from the sea. ‘Yes, I know. It has a Gothic aspect.’ He stepped over to the side of the boat, his neoprene booties smacking softly against the deck. Edie followed in his wake, dashing any hope he had that she’d had a change of heart.

‘Right. Let’s get on with it,’ he said, swinging his leg over the side. A second later, he plunged into the cold sea, grateful they had only a short distance to swim.

Treading water, he watched as Edie joined him, proving herself an able swimmer.

A few minutes later, shivering from the cold and breathing heavily from their exertions, they emerged onto a spindly strip of beach strewn with chunks of rock fallen from the cliff face. Cædmon could see that the fishing vessel had already begun its homeward voyage, the captain not bothering to confirm whether or not they had landed safely.

Removing her hood, Edie jutted her chin at the imposing cliff. ‘Without climbing gear, I don’t know how we’re going to get up that sucker.’

‘I have it on good authority that there’s a narrow trail not far from here.’ That authority being none other than the hotel barman, who claimed to have ascended the cliff on many a youthful outing. Something of a local rite of passage.

Cædmon swung a rubberized rucksack off his shoulder. Opening it, he removed yet another water-tight bag, from which he removed a coil of wire, a sheathed diving knife, a green laser light, two torches, the GPS receiver, the map and two pairs of trainers. Inventory verified and double-checked, he unzipped and removed his diving suit. Like Edie, he wore black hiking gear beneath his suit.

‘Guess it’s time for the final reckoning, huh?’ Although Edie attempted a brave smile, she fell woefully shy of the mark.

‘Yes, I’m afraid the time has come.’

Pulling back his arm, his right hand balled in a fist, he delivered a quick, precise blow to the side of Edie’s head.

Instantly, her eyes rolled back in her head, Cædmon catching her as she pitched forward in an unconscious heap. KO’d by the ghost fist that she never saw coming.

Very gently he laid her on some saltwort, using the empty rucksack as a pillow for her head. He then placed a torch in her limp hand. If he didn’t return before she came to, or if he didn’t return at all, she would be able signal for help.

Still on his knees, he leaned forward and softly kissed her on the lips.

‘I’m sorry, love. You gave me no choice.’