Crescent Dawn

Zakkar fired first, missing with a bullet that whizzed instead within a hair of Dirk’s left ear. Dirk kept moving, marching directly toward the Arab without flinching. A surge of emotions ran through his body, from loving thoughts of Sophie to torrid flashes of anger and vengeance. But noticeably absent was any sense of fear.

Locking Zakkar in the sights of the Colt.45 he held in his outstretched hands, he calmly squeezed the trigger. Neither the roar nor the kick from the.45 slowed his pace, and he marched closer, squeezing the trigger with each step like some robotic soldier.

Dirk’s first shot splintered the rail in front of Zakkar, and Zakkar flinched with his return volley, missing high. He didn’t get another chance to fire. The next slug from Dirk’s.45 tore into Zakkar’s shoulder, nearly taking his arm off. He spun, then fell back against the rail, where he was hit again in the side.

Slumped over the rail as the life drained out of him, Zakkar wasn’t allowed a slow death. Dirk marched closer, pumping five more shots into him, until leaving an ugly mass of red carnage streaming down the galley’s hull. He stood staring at the dead terrorist as the cavern fell silent for a moment, then he turned at the sound of splashing water behind him.

Summer had helped guide the Bullet through the sea cave’s entrance and came staggering up the submerged ledge. Reaching dry land, she ran up to Dirk, panting, “Where’s Dad?”

Dirk nodded grimly toward the prone figure in the Roman helmet and armor lying near the first dead gunman. Giordino had since run the submersible to shore and hopped out, joining Dirk and Summer in rushing over to Pitt.

The head of NUMA stirred slowly, then looked up and gave his kids a weary smile.

“Dad, are you okay?” Summer asked.

“I’m fine,” he assured. “Just got knocked a bit woozy. Help me to my feet.”

As Dirk and Summer helped him up, Giordino surveyed the armor and gri

“Hail, Caesar,” he said, thumping his chest with a closed fist.

“I should thank Caesar,” Pitt replied, pulling off the helmet. He held it up, showing a crease near the temple where Zakkar had grazed it with a bullet.

“That’ll ring your bell,” Giordino said.

Pitt swung the cuirass off his back and examined it. Three neat, round bullet holes had pierced the breastplate, but they had just left indentations in the back plate. Only by doubling over the armor had Pitt’s life been spared.

“There’s something to be said for Roman engineering,” he said.

Dropping the armor to the ground, he looked over at Dirk and the.45 still gripped in his hand.

“That Colt looks familiar.”

Dirk reluctantly passed the weapon to his father. “You told me once how Loren had sent you a gun in Mongolia hidden in a cutout copy of Moby-Dick . I checked your cabin on a hunch and saw it on the shelf. Hope you don’t mind.”

Pitt shook his head, then gazed at the bloody muck that was left of Zakkar.

“You did quite a number on him,” he said.

“That lowlife led the attacks at Caesarea and Jerusalem,” Dirk replied coldly, leaving unsaid the fact that Zakkar was indirectly responsible for Sophie’s death.

“It’s pretty odd that he ended up here,” Summer said.

“I suspect your British friend might know something about that,” Pitt said, pointing toward Ba

The archaeologist had pulled himself upright against the rocks and stared at them with a dazed look.

“I’ll go check on him,” Giordino offered. “Why don’t you guys find out what’s aboard.”

“Did you find the Manifest cargo?” Summer asked hopefully.

“I was a bit too preoccupied to find out,” Pitt replied. “Come, somebody help a feeble old man aboard.”

With Dirk and Summer’s aid, Pitt hobbled up onto the galley, then climbed down the companionway to the dark galley deck. He limped over to the stack of crates that he had earlier used for cover.

“I suggest we start here,” he said. Grabbing one of the smaller crates, he blew a layer of dust off of its side, then shined a flashlight at it. A faded red Chi-Rho symbol was visible on the wood.

“Summer, that’s your Cross of Constantine,” Dirk noted.

Summer grabbed the flashlight from her father’s hand and studied the image, nodding quietly in excitement.

The crate showed damage along its side, where a burst from Zakkar’s Uzi had riddled the edge. Pitt took the butt of his.45 and rapped it carefully against the damaged seam to open the crate. The narrow end piece easily popped off, causing the damaged front cover to fall away. A pair of well-worn leather sandals tumbled out of the open box, falling to the deck. Summer tracked the sandals with the flashlight’s beam, noting a small slip of parchment strapped to one of the shoes. Shining the light closer, she illuminated a handwritten label pe

The translation was not lost on anyone. They were staring at the shoes of Jesus.

EPILOGUE

THE SAVIORS

99

The crowds had gathered outside the doors of Hagia Sophia in an immense line that stretched for more than six blocks. Pious Christians rubbed elbows with devout Muslims as pilgrims of both religions waited anxiously for the doors to open to the exhibit displayed inside. The venerated landmark building had been witness to countless historical dramas in the fourteen hundred years it had dominated the skyline of Istanbul. Yet few events in its past had generated the kind of excitement that pulsed through the crowd clamoring for a chance to make their way inside.

Those in the crowd paid scant attention to the old green Delahaye convertible parked in front of the entrance. Had they looked closer, they might have noticed a seam of bullet holes stitched across the trunk, which the car’s new owner had yet to repair.

Inside the building, a small group of VIPs stepped reverently across Coronation Square, admiring the dual exhibits beneath Hagia Sophia’s towering main dome one hundred and seventy-seven feet above their heads. To their right, they found a display devoted to the life of Muhammad, containing the stolen battle pendant, a partial handwritten recitation of the Qur’an, and other artifacts gleaned from the personal collection of Ozden Celik. On the left side of the hall were the relics of Jesus, discovered on the galley in Cyprus. Dozens of armed guards began assembling around the display cases of both exhibits, preparing for the museum’s formal opening to the public.

Giordino and Gu

“It’s magnificent!” Ruppé beamed. “I can’t believe you pulled this off. A joint exhibit featuring relics from the lives of both Jesus and Muhammad. And in such a setting.”

“With its historic legacy as both a church and a mosque, Hagia Sophia seemed like the perfect place to showcase the artifacts,” Pitt said. “I guess you could say that the Mayor of Istanbul owed me one as well,” he added with a grin.

“It certainly helped that the folks in Cyprus agreed to a tour of the Jesus artifacts while they construct a permanent exhibit for the relics and the galley,” Gu

“Don’t forget the late Mr. Celik’s contributions,” Giordino said.

“Yes, the Muhammad relics all belong to the good people of Turkey now,” Pitt noted.

“Another job well done,” Ruppé said. “The public is going to be thrilled. It really is an inspired lesson in tolerance to combine the religious histories.” He looked at Pitt with an arched brow. “You know, if I were a gambling man, I might think you were simply trying to hedge your bets in the afterlife.”

“It never hurts to have insurance,” he replied with a wink.