Proof positive of his statement, Talli handed his gun over to Rebecca. "I just want out. I didn't even want to get on the plane in Madrid."
Vanderwalt's eyes flicked between Brandt and Talli and the gun in Rebecca's hand.
"Just go, Walt," Brandt said, indicating to the doors. "We take one door. You take the other." Still, the Brit wavered, so Brandt pressed. Vanderwalt was a douche spy, but he had proved he wasn't an idiot. "It isn't going to take the Disciples long to get through that door. I would prefer to be as far away as humanly possible when that happens."
"Which door are you taking?" Vanderwalt asked, his voice cracking.
Rebecca nodded to the left door. "That one should represent "good," she said, then indicated to the right door. "That one evil."
"Funny," Vanderwalt spat out. "I will take the left, then." Keeping his gun pointed at Vakasa, he backed his way to the door. With a light push, it swung open. That old grin appeared as if the last twenty-four hours hadn't just happened. "I'm still looking forward to that warm beer, mate."
"Just go," Brandt urged, then turned to Talli. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going with you," Talli said.
"Oh, no, you aren't," Brandt countered, cocking the gun pointed at his old sniper. "You picked your bed."
Talli reluctantly followed Vanderwalt through the left door. Brandt waited a few heartbeats, then went to the door, cracked it open, and made sure the men followed the path rather than doubling back again.
He turned to Rebecca. "You did tell them the wrong door?"
"Duh."
Rebecca pointed to the rightmost door. "This one faces east. The direction of Jerusalem."
Brandt nodded. She knew that he was fluent enough in Jewish religion to know that Jerusalem was considered sacred, even by Solomon, at least before he took a gander at the Ten Commandments tablets and all the secrets they held.
"Good enough for me," Brandt said, checking the other door quickly before doing a sweep of the eastern door. Rebecca took Vakasa's hand and followed Brandt down the new hallway. It was adorned in the same manner as the main temple.
She wished she had time to translate the myriad of inscriptions that lined the walls. The insight into ancient times they held...Well, it was priceless. At the least, she would have loved to take photos, but Brandt set such a pace that, even if Rebecca had had a camera, it would be nothing more than a blur.
They reached another set of doors, side-by-side.
"Do we go east?" Brandt asked, going to open the rightmost door.
"I think it's more complicated than that."
"Great." Brandt sighed. "Another maze or labyrinth or whatever the ancients called a screwed-up mess?"
Rebecca studied the figures on each door. "No. I think these doors represent a series of choices we must make."
"And the difference?" Brandt asked, clearly not in spirit of debate.
"I think we have to prove that we are the Messiah, or at least with the Messiah."
"So?"
To the left was a beautifully rendered etching of Moses. He looked younger, though, than most of the descriptions. Certainly long before the tablets were found. Perhaps at the beginning of their long trek across the desert. To the right was another stunning depiction of the goddess Astarte. She seemed so human yet divine.
"Still looking like we take the right door."
Rebecca wasn't so sure about that. Astarte was simply an imaging of what the Messiah might be in the future. Moses, however, was real. And just beginning his journey, just like Vakasa.
"I say we go left."
Brandt studied her features for a moment, then shrugged. "My motto?" he said, entering the left tunnel. "Never argue with a woman in the middle of a global religious crisis."
Frellan strode across the gilded temple's marble floors. The click of his boot heel ringing out in this place of God. Not a place of God, but truly God's place. This temple had been built by David's son, Solomon, for Frellan's messiah. In a world that he simply slipped from shadow to shadow, this felt like home.
His men came down the steps. "It is locked, sir."
Brandt yet again was ahead, but only for the moment. "Rig it," Frellan ordered.
"No," Monnie protested. Frellan turned to the watcher. How he dreamt of putting a bar through one of those pretty green eyes. She cringed at his stare but continued. "You cannot defile this place any more than you already have."
"Oh, I can," he promised her. "And I shall."
She took a step closer. "No. You won't."
"And who is going to stop me, little one?"
Frellan felt a sharp sting in his gut. He reached down to find a blade buried up to its hilt. A delicate, pale hand held the knife. He searched Monnie's eyes, finding the timid watcher gone as her lips curled into a fierce smile.
"Finally," Benedicto said, nodding to Monnie.
Her glare shut up even the verbose priest.
Monnie turned her attention back to Frellan, turning the knife sideways, twisting his bowel. "You and your sister. I should have known twins born to a treacherous mother would come of no good."
Frellan looked to his men, his mercenaries, yet not a one raised a gun against her.
"Fool," Monnie mocked. "I pay them."
As blood rushed from his brain into his belly and then out onto the white floor, Frellan still did not understand, or refused to understand.
Monnie, however, made it abundantly clear.
"I am your master."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lopez hissed next to Davidson. "When did the religious hottie go all psycho ninja?"
"Shh!" Davidson responded. "I can't hear."
The Disciples' master was so young. However, that wasn't unprecedented in bloodline-based societies. It didn't matter their age, but the blood that ran through their veins. More than likely, the young woman currently shoving Frellan to the ground was a direct descendant of Moses. That heritage trumped any age issue.
Davidson watched as Monnie turned to the priest. "Do we have a problem?"
"If you hadn't done it," the priest answered, "I was about to."
The two moved farther away, toward the Holy of Holies' door. Davidson strained but couldn't make out what they were saying. Then Monnie turned and pointed an arm straight at them.
"Guys..."
"Yeah," Lopez agreed. "Time to boogey."
Levont fired into the vestibule as Davidson and Lopez hit the ropes.
"Come on!" Davidson yelled, but the point man wouldn't leave the archway.
"You're going to need cover," Levont protested.
Lopez was already halfway up the tunnel.
"Next they are coming with-"
A grenade rolled into the room. But didn't go off. They weren't going to get another chance like that. Levont hustled over to the ropes, climbing hand over hand, nearly overtaking Davidson.
The bounce of another grenade echoed up the tunnel. This one was not a dud.
The concussive force pushed them up and out of the shaft. Davidson and Levont flew over the ark as a fireball whooshed over their heads. The flames licked at the curtains and wood, setting the entire synagogue on fire.
Davidson and Levont were hot on Lopez's heels as he burst through the door into the already-smoky night.
"How the hell are we getting back through that?" Lopez asked as the building's roof caught on fire, the blaze now raging.
"Wait until it goes out?" Levont suggested.
Davidson looked to the ground, though. "This hill isn't cylindrical."
Lopez shot him a glance. "Um, no."
Ignoring the corporal, Davidson walked off the distance he thought the temple below occupied. There was still a lot of hill left-to the east.
"You think there's more down there?" Levont asked.
"Yeah," Davidson answered. "That temple down there isn't a replica of the First Temple. It is a homage to the Jewish place of worship. I think King Solomon built a whole new shrine to his messiah."
"That's great and all," Lopez agreed. "But what is our next move?"
Davidson looked to the surrounding area. "There are a number of fables involving King Solomon, any of which-"
Lopez held up a hand. "Hold on. We barely tolerate it when Rebecca does it, and she is way crazy better looking than you."
"Fine," Davidson replied. "Then how about I have a plan?"
"Like the rest have gone so well," Lopez said. Then when Davidson didn't continue, he finished. "No, I was serious. Love your plans. Let's do it."
Davidson pulled out his sat phone and replaced the battery. Bunny and her crew might come in handy. He dialed the number, but it went to voice mail. Really? An emergency field line going to voice mail? He couldn't worry much about it, though. He had an insanely flawed plan to execute.
Bunny dove for the sat phone, but the line was dead by the time she answered it. She tried to dial back as the entire room went dark. No lights. No sounds. No sat phone uplink.
"The last wall. It's been breached," Prenner whispered into the dark.
No, this couldn't be happening. Not with three of the men outside the temple and Rebecca and the rest missing.
Then the lights came back on.
"Oh, please," Stark said as he rebooted the system.
"I stopped them at the sixth wall," his mother continued, "while I was making your toast."
"Then why?" Emily said, indicating to all the equipment.
Stark shrugged. "Because we had to make someone believe we were knocked back on our heels so they would get bold and go for the kill shot."
"Your spaghetti code really was a delight, dear," his mother offered. "A true Gordian's knot."
"Wait," Bunny announced, her brain catching up with the current events. It turned out she was way better at keeping track of ancient ones. "All these alarms and outages were faked?"
Stark's fingers flew across the keyboard. "Those hackers weren't nearly as smarty-pants as they thought they were." He brought up a line of code, which made no sense to Bunny. "Off of this little gem, Mom backtracked them to the Pentagon."
Emily pulled a gun out of Bunny didn't want to know where and trained it on Prenner.
"What?" Prenner said, backing away, going for his own sidearm.
"Don't," Emily warned. "Not until we know more. Stark?"
"Once we identified the hack was coming from the E-ring, we did a little digging into Prenner's files..."
A page came up on the big screen. Bunny skimmed it, then found a passage that begged to be read aloud. "In my opinion, Brandt's command has been riddled with unjustified off-the-book missions, questionable judgment, and near-negligent homicide risks."
"That is a sealed document," Prenner growled.
"Yeah, right. From me?" Stark said. Then his mother cleared her throat. "And my mom?" The tech held up a hand. "Plus, it turns out that Prenner didn't just happen to stumble upon this mission."
"Please," Prenner said, his tone losing its dangerous edge, "don't."
"Sorry, dude, the time for don't ask, don't tell is way over." Stark brought up a picture of Brandt's deceased point man, Svengurd. Bunny barely recognized him. She'd known him for about twelve and a half minutes. His height and stark-blond hair were kind of memorable, though. The photo morphed into a candid photo of Svengurd and Prenner in an embrace. "Prenner here was Svengurd's boyfriend."
Bunny turned on the lieutenant. "I knew it." When everyone looked to her, she clarified. "About him batting for the other team-I knew that part."