THE LAST ARK

CHAPTER 40: NO OPTIONS

King David Hotel, Jerusalem One Day Before Temple Ceremony

Disguised as a Hasidic Jew with WITNESS glasses to fool hotel cameras, Derek knocks on room 306. Jack opens with crinkled brows and a deep frown, then looks both ways down the hall before closing and bolting the door. “Yo, Goldblum, what took you so long,” Jack snaps, mocking the costume. Derek ignores the comment. “What happened?” Jack spins a tablet on the desk to press play. The browser shows a streaming video of Jenn, alive but bound at the wrists and ankles, looking heavily drugged, her head hanging to one side, drool dripping on her cocktail dress. Barefoot, on a dirt fl oor, leaning against a stone wall, a handwritten sign sits on her lap. Flapjack. Midnight. Alone. “I came to pick her up this morning. When she didn’t answer, I used the spare key we exchanged for emergencies,” Jack explains. “Her tablet streamed the video.” Derek taps his glasses. “WITNESS, access the King David Hotel. Show me the past twelve hours of security video for the third floor.” While WITNESS finds the video, he turns to Jack. “Midnight where?” “Zoom in on the sign.” Derek zooms in on a logo in the corner. “Masada. Isn’t that the hill fortress where the Jewish rebels committed suicide rather than give in to the Romans?” “Yeah, not a good omen. The site is closed for preservation work,” Jack says. “He’s after me,” Derek confesses another reason he and Jenn can’t have a relationship. “Yeah, I get that, Sherlock, but the question is who, and why?” “Jester pegged him as an ICC investigator named McGregor connected to the Solar Temple. I can only guess on the question of why. Either way, he knows I care about Jenn.” Derek tries to think of anyone who would know that information outside of his closest friends. Only a single name comes to mind: Praeceptor. Last year, when the previous Praeceptor cornered him in Sweden, the old man seemed amused that he had developed feelings for the attractive Navy Lieutenant. A new, unknown Praeceptor took over several months ago when the old one passed away. The thought that Jenn may be the second woman sacrificed for the stolen archives churns bitterly in his stomach. He can’t let that happen. “With the peace ceremony tomorrow, Shin Bet will focus on Jerusalem,” Jack says. “Security system accessed,” says WITNESS at the same instant Derek’s phone pings with the video link. He fast-forwards until he sees someone enter Jenn’s door with minimal effort. The intruder wears a hoody, making it impossible to identify him. “Is that her new boyfriend?” Derek asks, hearing the jealousy in his own voice before he thinks of the killer in Tomar. “No, too short. I’m guessing that’s your ICC guy.” T he video forwards to where Jenn and another guy, a huge hunk, approach the door, laughing. Jenn fumbles to get her card key inserted. She’s drunk. Her intentions seem obvious. Jealousy pricks at his heart with no reason he can justify. They never had a relationship. “That’s Rhodes,” Jack clarifies the obvious. “Where was he when McGregor took Jenn?” Derek questions, wishing he could get a peek inside the room. Derek turns to Jack. “OK, for real dude, why is Jenn here?” He stares Jack down until the pilot grimaces. “I’m not supposed to tell, but I can see from the look on your face you don’t give a fart. OK, fine. Adam Scott died of Novichok poisoning after he learned FPOTUS knew of the INVISID backdoor. She came here on a lame scheme to confront the FPOTUS and only hooked up with Rhodes to get an inside angle.” Jack inhales deeply. “There I said it.” Derek can tell Jack tells the truth, and it helps, a little, especially knowing that Jenn and Rhodes were not dating. “Thanks. Was that so hard?” “Yes,” Jack retorts. In the video, Geoff storms out of the room with a huge welt on his forehead and stomps down the hall toward the elevator. “What happened to the other guy?” Jack questions. “Who gave Rhodes the welt?” Derek bites down, eyes burning into the screen. A few moments later, the stranger exits with Jenn under his arm like a drunk girlfriend and takes the opposite direction toward the stairs. “Do you think the hulk was in on the kidnap?” Jack ponders. Derek thinks a moment, admitting to himself that he wants to pin Rhodes. Washed out of the Navy, and a decade in the Secret Service, something in his gut tells him that Rhodes is more muscle than a mastermind. The other guy was obviously hiding ahead of time. The welt on his forehead could have been the handiwork of Jenn, or not. “Let’s not rule it out.” “If we go to the police, this guy will kill her.” Jack points out the obvious. “Which is why we need to take care of this ourselves,” he mumbles, thinking through how. “Do you still have my toy box on the jet?” Derek refers to a collection of high-end gadgets, devices, advanced tech, and extreme sports gear. Jack snickers. “You mean those storage containers that take up half of the luggage area, next to that expensive server rack, taking up most of the other half? Yeah, why?” “Not sure yet.” A rough plan forms in his head—vague, missing details, and maybe even impossible. Either way, Derek just can’t think of a plan to save Jenn with less than three men, and there’s no way he’ll risk Mordechai or the others. “Do you know how to reach Jenn’s new boyfriend?” “Rhodes?” Jack gives him a hard glare. “Sure, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Probably not. Desperate times.” If Rhodes was in on the snatch, then he could be a serious security leak for any rescue. It’s a risk Derek needs to take. Ten minutes later, Geoff Rhodes stands in Jenn’s room, looking hungover with a dark bruise on his forehead, to endure some awkward introductions. When they show him the video, Rhodes’ face turns pale, shocked. Not the sign of a man involved. “Do you know how that guy got into her room?” he asks Geoff. “No, but I also don’t know how a fugitive hacker got into her room,” Geoff retorts. “Me, jack-wang,” Jack says. “Jenn and I exchanged key cards. I let him in.” Derek doesn’t let up. “And why did you leave so upset? What happened to your forehead? Did you know this guy was in the room when you left?” Geoff turns his eyes away, stalling for an answer. “We had a disagreement, and no, I had no clue that guy was in here.” He avoided the question about how he got the welt. Derek wants to ask if it was just a disagreement but chokes down his jealousy. “Why don’t we call the police?” Geoff says. “They have tactics to handle these kinds of situations.” “Yeah, and this guy knows those tactics by heart,” he responds. “If we send in the YAMAM, or Shin Bet, we risk Jenn’s life. We do this my way, or you can walk away now.” YAMAM is the Israeli version of SWAT, otherwise known as the National Counter Terrorism Unit. Geoff glares at him for several moments with eyebrows scrunched together like he is thinking really hard, and it hurts. “I won’t agree to anything until I hear your lamebrain scheme. And just for the record, as soon as Jennifer is safe, I will do everything in my power to put you behind bars,” Geoff says. “Jennifer didn’t have the balls to arrest you, but I don’t give a rat’s ass.” Derek searches the eyes of the prep-school jock, entitled grandson of a Senator, and sees that he’s telling the truth. Growing up in foster homes until he ran away at age thirteen, Derek spent his entire youth moving from school to school to school with constant threats from entitled bullies like Geoff. This is not about his pride or his freedom; this is about saving Jenn in time to help Yehuda. It will be a long day. “Nice to know we’re on the same side,” Derek snips. “Here’s what I had in mind.” For the next five minutes, Derek walks through the rough idea. Jack should be able to buy the pricey gear not already in his toy box. The plan certainly contains a lot of risks, but given the extreme location and short time frame to plan, it’s the best he can do. Derek waits for a reaction, and it doesn’t take long. “You’re insane,” shouts Geoff, spinning off to throw up his hands and then turning back. “He gets that a lot,” deadpans Jack with a raised eyebrow. “Not saying I disagree, but to be fair, this is not his worst idea.” Geoff ignores Jack. “Geez man, do you even own a gun? Do you expect this guy will just give Jennifer up without shooting at us?” Derek won’t use a gun. Hates them. Flashbacks of a gun barrel pressed to his forehead as a child with a drunk man asking him if he wanted to play Russian roulette have haunted his dreams with cloudy amnesia for decades. “Don’t worry, G-man. I’ll have a weapon,” Jack counters. “But seriously, you’re Secret Service. Aren’t you a sharpshooter or something?” Geoff steps over that challenge as well, moving to his next objection. “It’s too complex; it’ll never work.” “OK, Patton, what’s your plan?” Derek challenges. “No police.” Geoff lowers his eyes and turns to the window for a long, tongue-tied pause. “I don’t have one.” “Desperate times.” Derek takes a sheet of hotel paper to write out a central timeline, and then makes a second copy before he takes a photo with his phone. He hands the two sheets to Geoff and Jack. “No calls except on the encrypted satellite radio you’ll get from Jack,” he says. “Be in position on time. Remember, we only get one shot, and losing Jenn is not an option.” Derek watches Geoff carefully until the jock reluctantly nods. Normally, Derek would dismiss the lack of enthusiasm as a government agent’s ego, but something feels wrong. A gut instinct. He can’t pinpoint what bothers him, and that really bothers him. Not a good omen, but he has no other option.