Helios (Cerberus Group Book 2) Read online

  The long promised battle for Jerusalem was beginning.

  From the midst of the tumult, the moving truck arrived, its tires shrieking on the pavement, as it skidded to a stop in front of the cave entrance.

  Abdul-Ahad gripped the hilt of his long knife with one hand, and raised the other, cautioning his men to hold off a few moments longer. It would take all of three minutes for them to leave their position, but once Pierce was in that cave, he would be trapped. There were no other exits. They could afford to wait a little longer.

  The doors on both sides of the truck opened. Pierce was not alone.

  More agents of Masih ad-Dajjal.

  Two other people—a large man with dark skin and a black woman—got out of the cab with Pierce. The big man would be trouble, but the others would die quickly. Two more black men—definitely Africans—wearing the garb of Orthodox or perhaps Coptic Christian priests, got out of the back. Both were old and decrepit and would put up little, if any, fight. Abdul-Ahad had no reservations about killing Christian priests, either.

  Pierce and the others unloaded a bulky parcel from the truck. Distributing its weight between them like pallbearers at a funeral, they headed into the cave.

  A minute passed, and Abdul-Ahad was just about to give the order to move out when two more vehicles—a sedan and another large moving truck—pulled up in front of the cave entrance.

  “Who is this?” Abdul-Ahad whispered, keeping his hand up to forestall the attack. Had Pierce foreseen danger and brought reinforcements?

  Men began emerging from the vehicles—Westerners. Probably Americans. Four of them looked like they might be soldiers, and as if to confirm that supposition, they produced Uzi machine-pistols and held them at the ready. It was almost as if they were aware that Abdul-Ahad and his men were preparing to attack. They fanned out, taking up positions around the truck, while the fifth man opened the rear loading door and went inside.

  Abdul-Ahad’s stinging eyes went wide in astonishment at what he beheld next.

  FIFTY-SIX

  Despite being the guardian of the Ark, there was no way the aged Abba Tesfa was going to be able to bear one-fourth of the Ark’s weight. Abuna Mateos was no spring chicken either, but he was carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle containing the special priestly garments that Tesfa would need to wear to safely unwrap the Ark once it was inside the Tabernacle. That left just three of them to bear the still-wrapped relic on long wooden poles, just as the Levite priests had done in the time of Moses. Pierce took the front left corner, Carter took the right, and Lazarus carried the rest from the back. The two men of God were behind them, though Carter couldn’t see anything around the Ark’s bulk.

  The going was tricky. Even before they reached the cave entrance, they had to descend uneven steps, which was no simple feat given the size of the burden they carried. But the urgency of the situation gave Carter an adrenaline boost.

  Somewhere in the world, Ishiro Tanaka had just used the Roswell Fragment to activate the Black Knight satellite, turning the sun’s light away from the Earth. He had plunged the whole planet into darkness, and this time there was no one around to pull the plug on it.

  No one outside their select group knew what was happening. The scientists being interviewed on radio news channels they had listened to during the drive had no explanation for it. Those who believed in holy writings and divine prophecy, and who were already on edge after the previous incidents, didn’t need technical details. As far as they were concerned, the End of Days had arrived.

  In the time it had taken them to complete the trip into the Old City, pandemonium had set in. There had not been talk of more earthquakes but there were widespread reports of ethnic and religious violence, vandalism, and looting. Even more disturbing were unconfirmed stories of mass suicide. If it wasn’t already happening, Carter thought, the media was doing a great job of planting the idea in the heads of listeners.

  She knew it would take days, perhaps even weeks without the sun for the Earth to become uninhabitable, but every hour—every minute—that passed with the world in the grip of End Times hysteria would do irreversible damage.

  As Lazarus got the Ark unloaded, Pierce ran into what looked like a small city park. It was situated beneath the towering limestone foundation of the ancient city walls. He unlocked and removed the green metal gate blocking a cave opening, widening the entrance enough for them to get through with their burden. Once they were inside, he called for another halt, so he could replace the barrier. It was a wise precaution given the growing unrest outside. Then they resumed their descent.

  Carter took note of the tri-lingual signs and placards near the entrance: Hebrew, Arabic, and English. They were moving too fast for her to read them, but two phrases stood out: King Solomon’s Quarries, and Zedekiah’s Cave.

  “I know that name,” she said, as they began their descent into the subterranean world. “Zedekiah. He was the king when Jeremiah moved the Ark, wasn’t he?”

  She wasn’t that curious, but talking about something other than their immediate plight helped keep her mind off the enormous burdens—both physical and symbolic—that they now carried.

  “That’s right,” Pierce confirmed. “His rebellion against the Babylonians was what led to the destruction of Jerusalem and the first Temple. According to legend, when he tried to escape the siege, he hid in this cave. The Babylonians found him and executed his sons in front of him, then bored out his eyes, so their deaths were the last things he would ever see.”

  Carter shuddered. “Why is it always the eyes?”

  “At the farthest point in the cave, there’s a wall with trickling seepage. They call it ‘Zedekiah’s Tears.’ It’s all just folklore though. Most of this cave is man-made, quarried out by Herod the Great to build his Temple in the second century B.C.”

  “Herod? Not Solomon?”

  “There’s no archaeological evidence to support the claims that Solomon used stone from here, but don’t tell our Masonic friends that. This is one of their most revered sites. According to their tradition, this is where the construction of Solomon’s Temple began. They have an annual ceremony here and participate in the upkeep of the site. Which is how we were able to get the place shut down for the day so we could set up.

  “Although,” he added, “that story about Solomon is probably just a ruse to hide the cave’s real purpose.”

  “Which is?”

  “This. What we’re doing. The place we’re going. Freemason’s Hall is less than two hundred yards from the site of the Temple foundation stone. That’s within the margin of error for Newton’s calculations about where to situate the Tabernacle and the Ark. When Chillingsworth told me they’ve been preparing for this day for three hundred years, I had no idea just what that entailed.”

  The interior of the cave was spacious, and the light-colored limestone walls reflected and diffused the artificial lighting, making some parts of the underground quarry seem as bright as day. The irony of that was not lost on Carter.

  “Almost there,” Pierce said.

  Carter was glad to hear it. Her arms were burning from the constant exertion. The deeper they went, the rougher and more cramped the cave seemed, though by comparison to the crypt on Tana Qirqos, even the tightest spots felt as wide open as the Grand Canyon. After about two hundred yards, the slope of the floor diminished until it was almost flat. The cavern opened into a large chamber carved out of the limestone. There were a few arched openings leading even further into the subterranean realm, but Carter knew they wouldn’t be going much further. Dominating the hall was an enormous tent-like structure she knew had to be the Tabernacle. Walking toward them, holding what appeared to be a grapefruit-sized ball of metal, was Fiona. Gallo was right behind her.

  “I knew you were coming.” Fiona held the orb up, as if it explained everything. “I felt it. I could almost see it.”

  “Good.” Pierce called for a halt and a set-down. The exertion was getting to him as well. “Tanaka has activated the
Black Knight,” he continued. “The whole planet has gone dark.”

  “And people are flipping out,” Carter added.

  “Can you can shut it off?”

  Fiona answered without a trace of hesitation. “Yes.”

  Mateos and Tesfa began an urgent but brief exchange in Amharic, the latter pointing at Fiona and the sphere in her hands. The bishop turned to Pierce. “Excuse me, but are you saying that this child intends to stand before the Mercy Seat? In the presence of the Almighty?”

  Pierce’s forehead creased in dismay. “Fiona is a Kohen and a Baal’Shem,” he said. “You know those words, right? She shares the same genetic heritage as the Levite priests. And she can speak the language of creation.”

  “None but the guardian may see the uncovered Ark.”

  Carter interposed between the increasingly frustrated Pierce and Mateos. “Abuna, you need to trust us. We respect your traditions and understand the risk, but Fiona has extraordinary abilities.”

  The bishop conveyed the message to the older monk, and they shared another exchange in their common language, but Carter could sense Tesfa’s increasing obstinacy.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Pierce growled.

  Mateos turned to them again. “When the Ark is placed into the Holy of Holies, Abba Tesfa alone will enter to uncover it. He will make an offering of incense and pray to God to allow this.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Pierce relented. “But let’s get to it. Every minute we waste, the world goes a little crazier.”

  Lazarus broke his customary silence, not to weigh in on the matter, but to shush them all. In the sudden quiet, Carter had no difficulty making out the source of his concern. A rhythmic crunching noise, like a squad of marching soldiers, issuing from the passage behind them.

  Pierce muttered an oath. “Damn it. Someone must have followed us in here.”

  “A lot of someones,” Lazarus said, his tone grim. “You guys take care of things here. I’ll deal with them.”

  Before he could move however, the noise stopped. A few seconds later a lone figure emerged from the passage.

  “Fallon,” Pierce snarled.

  The tech-billionaire paused there. In his right hand, was a semi-automatic pistol, though judging by the way he held it, he wasn’t sure why he had it.

  “Check you out,” Fiona said, her sarcasm almost—but not quite—hiding a quaver of alarm. “Looking all gangsta.”

  Fallon ignored her, surveying the chamber like a mountaineer gazing down from the summit. “So that’s it. The Ark of the Covenant.” He shook his head in mock admiration. “Thanks for doing the heavy lifting, Pierce, but I’ll take it from here.”

  “Like hell you will.”

  Fallon stared back for a moment, then glanced over at Gallo, his face twisting in an unspoken promise of menace. He turned his attention back to Pierce. “The Black Knight is a resource with unimaginable potential. We could harness all the energy of the sun. Think of what that means. Unlimited energy. We could conquer every problem. End hunger and poverty forever. Colonize the solar system. We can’t let this opportunity slip away.”

  “You know what’s happening out there,” Pierce said. “We have to end this now. Forever.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Just try and stop us,” Pierce said, nodding to Lazarus who returned the nod and started forward.

  Fallon paled and retreated a step, stabbing the gun in Lazarus’s direction. His smile returned. “I didn’t come alone, you know.” He looked over his shoulder. “Little help?”

  Four men with military buzz cuts and tan fatigues emerged from the passage. They were also armed, but unlike Fallon, they carried Uzi machine pistols, which they leveled at the advancing Lazarus.

  The big man cracked his knuckles and continued forward.

  “Erik!” Carter called out. “Don’t. There’s another way.”

  She drew in a deep breath and leaned close to Pierce. “He might be invincible, but we aren’t. Get the others out of here. Hide in one of those other tunnels. The fewer people out here, the better.”

  Pierce opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, but then closed it just as quickly. He knew what she was preparing to do.

  She turned away from him and took another deep breath. Her ability—it felt more like a curse—was not some superpower that she could exercise with precision, the way that Fiona manipulated soil and rock with the Mother Tongue. It was more like a feral animal kept locked in a cage only by the power of her will. Mostly, the beast stayed quiet, but in dire circumstances—like having four Uzis pointed her way—it woke up and started shaking the door. Control meant not using it, keeping the cage door shut through an effort of will. Letting go was a lot easier, but it meant surrendering to something unpredictable.

  It also meant taking, if not the lives of her enemies, their very souls.

  Fallon could not possibly have understood what she was about to do, but he seemed to sense the abrupt power shift in the chamber. His eyes went wide with fear, and he turned back into the passage. “Advance,” he shouted. “Secure.”

  The noise that they had heard earlier sounded again, much louder now, and as the marching figures materialized to either side of Fallon and began streaming down into the large hall, Carter’s heart sank. This was a threat against which she was powerless.

  Robots.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  The four human mercenaries backed up against the wall, making way for the eight humanoid automatons that filed down into the chamber. Each one was large as Lazarus, and from the neck down, they reminded Pierce of the T-800 machines from The Terminator movie series. Though, they were stripped of anything remotely Arnie-like, and they sported four articulated arms instead of two. The biggest difference was above the shoulders, where the human-like skull had been replaced by what looked like a gimbal-mounted spherical camera inside a protective cage.

  “Like ’em?” Fallon crowed, his earlier arrogance returning with a vengeance. “A little project I’ve been working on. My own variation on the ATLAS robot developed for DARPA. Improved, of course. They’re utility bots, designed for working rescue, not combat. But I’d recommend keeping your distance all the same.”

  Lazarus seemed to take that as a challenge, and charged the line. Pierce had seen YouTube videos of DARPA robots getting knocked down. He expected to see the humanoid machines scattered like bowling pins on impact, but the outcome was more like something from an NFL scrimmage. As the big man drew close, the robots turned toward him in unison, lowering and repositioning like football linemen preparing for the snap. One of them was staggered back a few steps by the collision, but it stayed on its feet. After a moment, it started pushing back.

  Lazarus pivoted, trying to use the machine’s weight and momentum against it, but its processors and internal gyroscopes reacted faster than even his battle-hardened reflexes, matching him move for move as the others closed in around him like soldier ants.

  He tried to break contact, but the robot’s metal fingers, stronger and more unyielding than flesh and bone, had closed on his arms like manacles. Instead of wasting energy in a futile attempt to break free, Lazarus widened his stance and shifted his weight onto one foot, then twisted his body hard, whipping the robot sideways and slamming it into the pair that was closing in from his left.

  Once again however, the net result fell well short of a spectacular victory. The heavy self-balancing machines were merely jostled, and after staggering back a few steps, they recovered. While that was happening, the others closed in from all angles. Anchored as he was to the first machine, there was no retreat. Three more robots moved in, and despite his best efforts to kick them away, they managed to grab hold of his legs and yank him off his feet. The others regrouped and began moving toward the Ark.

  “George!” Gallo’s shout was both a warning and a question: What should we do?

  Pierce had no answer. They were outnumbered and overmatched. Even one of the automatons would h
ave been a challenge for Lazarus, and Fallon had brought eight, in addition to the hired guns.

  It was a fight they couldn’t win. Like it or not, Fallon had already checkmated them. The Ark was his.

  The realization triggered the unlikeliest of memories, and Pierce turned to the others. “Fall back. Find somewhere to hide. Whatever you do, don’t look back.”

  Gallo stared back. “You’re going to do something crazy, aren’t you?”

  Pierce didn’t answer, but turned to the Ark and started tearing away the woven papyrus wrapping as the four robots closed in, multiple arms extended, metal fingers open like claws.

  Fifty feet away, Lazarus let out a tortured roar. The robots surrounding him had each seized ahold of one of his extremities, lifting him off the ground, stretching him out between them, as if they intended to pull him apart. Pierce could see the strain on the big man’s face as he fought against them. The robots’ metal feet scraped across the floor, unable to get enough traction to dismember him, but that wasn’t going to stop them from trying. Every inch Lazarus gained, he lost almost as quickly.

  With another howl, Lazarus pulled his arms in hard enough to slam two of the robots into each other.

  The clang of metal striking metal and the crunch of breaking bones echoed throughout the cavern, but the robots did not let go. Lazarus slumped in their grasp, unmoving, unconscious.

  Or worse.

  Pierce knew he would never be able to endure the same level of punishment as Lazarus, so as the other robots closed in on him, he wormed his fingers into the papyrus mesh, curling them like hooks, and pulled with all his might.

  The woven shroud tore down the middle like a dried corn husk. Pierce back-pedaled, ducking away from the grasping arms, but he did not let go of his double-handful of the reedy material. As he pulled it free, the ragged edges snagged the layered blankets underneath, pulling them loose as well, partially uncovering the golden prize they concealed.