Ronnie was no longer surprised at the things Selena knew. "Who was Cromwell?" he asked.
"A Protestant commander who defeated the Catholic Royalists in England's Civil War. He took over the rule of England. Cromwell is one of the most controversial figures in English history."
"Was he ever here, at Pembroke?"
"I don't know."
Selena played her light over the floor in the center of the cave.
"There was something heavy here," she said. "You can see where it made marks as it was dragged away. A chest, something like that."
"Could it have been the Ark?"
"Maybe. The Ark took four priests to carry it."
Her light caught something shiny on the floor. She bent down and picked it up.
"Gold," she said. "It's a small piece of thin gold. It could have come from the covering of the Ark."
"Looks like we're a few hundred years too late," Nick said. "Let's get out of here. Ronnie, take the sword with you. It's the only connection to whatever happened here."
They went back out to the cavern and through the gate. Nick closed it behind them. The next time someone went into Wogan Cavern, they were in for a surprise.
There was a sound from the river that shouldn't have been there. A boot, scraping on rock.
They dropped flat to the sloping ground. Clothing whispered as they drew their pistols.
Then the night lit with the flash of guns.
Lying there on the steep slope under the castle walls with the whine of bullets passing overhead, Selena entered the zone.
Time turned into a slow motion dream. A light breeze off the water brought the dank, moist smell of the river and the rushes on the banks, mixed with the sharp odor of burnt gunpowder. She watched the bright, winking flashes of the guns below. She fired back at them, watched her pistol lift slowly with the recoil of each shot.
Ronnie lay next to her. She saw the slide on his pistol working back and forth, the empty cases drifting through the air, settling and bouncing around them. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized they were in a full blown firefight. The sound of the guns seemed far off, muffled. There was another sound. With a shock, she realized she was yelling, an inarticulate scream of primal rage and fear. It snapped the spell. Time sped up again.
They lay on the ground, facing down at the river, everyone firing. It sounded like someone had started World War Three.
Then it was over. They waited. Across the water a light came on in someone's house. Then another. There were no more shots from below. Nick risked a quick light. Crumpled shapes lay on the slope below. His beam landed on a boat drifting away from the shore. An arm draped over the edge trailed in the river current. The boat was beginning to settle as water poured through bullet holes in the side. Nick stood. The others got to their feet. All except Lev.
"Lev," Nick said. "Are you all right?"
He bent over the Israeli. Lev lay face down on the ground. The back of his skull was bloody. Brain matter oozed from the wound. Nick rolled him over. There was a large, open wound in his forehead. His eyes were open.
"Shit," Nick said. More lights were going on across the way. "Ronnie, Selena. Help me get him into the boat."
They carried Lev down to the boat. Ronnie ran back up, retrieved the sword and Lev's pistol and got in with the others. They pushed off from shore. Nick rowed hard, back to where they had parked by the river. Ronnie jumped out, waded to the bank and pulled the skiff in. They picked up Lev's body and put it in the back of the rental van. They got in and headed southeast, back toward England.
Nobody spoke. As Nick drove, he remembered Lev showing him the pictures of his wife and children.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
It was late at night in Washington. Elizabeth had just gotten home. She took off her shoes and put her holstered pistol on the counter. She made a cup of chamomile tea and stood at the kitchen counter, thinking about another stressful day.
The sound of the doorbell jolted her. She looked at the monitor and saw a man in a dark suit and tie standing outside. He wore an earpiece. Behind him, a black Lincoln idled in the street.
"Yes." She spoke into the intercom. The man held up an ID to the camera over the door.
"Secret Service, Director. The President would like to see you."
"One moment."
It was unusual for Rice to send a car unannounced. Good thing she hadn't undressed yet. She slipped her shoes back on. She clipped the holster back on her waist. She'd have to hand it over when she got to the White House, but she never went anywhere without it. Even at home, it was never far away.
This time of night, the drive to the White House didn't take very long. She got out at a side entrance. She handed over her gun and was given a visitor badge and followed an agent to the Oval Office.
President James Rice was seated behind his desk, writing something.
"Sir, Director Harker is here."
"Thank you, Bill. Come in, Director."
"Mister President."
"Take a seat, Director." Rice's manner was cool. Still mad about Jordan, she thought. Maybe I'm here to get fired. The President looked tired. He always looked tired these last months. Tonight he seemed even more so than usual. His skin had an unhealthy grayish tinge. The black that had been in his hair when he was first elected was completely gone. Rice had aged years since he'd taken office.
"Give me your assessment on Israel," he said. No pleasantries or small talk. Elizabeth gathered her thoughts.
"Sir, I believe Prime Minister Lerner is going to take harsh retaliatory action."
"Go on."
"Lerner loathes Weisner, but this attempted assassination has taken the lid off an old problem."
"You mean Hezbollah."
"Yes, sir. It's highly charged, in a political sense. With the election coming up, Lerner has to act. He can't just send in a strike against a few leaders. That only gets everyone worked up. If I'm reading the situation correctly, he will make an all out effort to remove Hezbollah once and for all."
"That would be unfortunate."
"Yes, sir."
Rice rose. Elizabeth started to get up but he waved her back into her chair. "Don't get up, Elizabeth."
Back to Elizabeth. She breathed an inward sigh of relief. Rice's opinion mattered to her. It wasn't just that he was the Big Boss, or that she operated at his pleasure. She liked him. He had the worst job in the world.
Rice put his hands behind his back and began pacing back and forth. "The Secretary of State doesn't agree with you. She thinks Lerner will follow the usual pattern. Send in an air strike, kill a few militants and maybe some civilians and make the point that you can't shoot at politicians in Israel and get away with it. Defense agrees with her. He says Hezbollah will retaliate with some suicide bombings, fire some rockets and that will be that."
"With all due respect, Mister President, I think they're wrong. Weisner now has at least a 50/50 chance of winning the election. He's got the conservative parties and all of the religious right behind him. Lerner's coalition is falling apart. It already was, or he wouldn't have called an early election like he did. The attack makes it look like the Islamists think Weisner is a serious threat. That translates into votes. If Weisner is elected, any hope of a peace settlement goes out the window."
"And you think Lerner will get tough to prove he's not going to take it anymore."
"Yes, sir. The Israelis are also mobilizing along the West Bank. I think Lerner is going to go after Hamas at the same time. Hezbollah is Iran's major surrogate. Hamas is Sunni, but Iran likes the trouble they cause. If Israel neutralizes those groups it will set back Tehran's plans for an Islamic Middle East by years. They can't let that happen."