The Spear of Destiny

Chapter SIXTEEN



Dennis opened the driver’s door of the Land Rover and jumped in. He thrust the key into the ignition, started the engine, slammed the door shut, selected first gear, released the parking brake and swung the vehicle round in a wide arc. Stones and dust were kicked up from the tyres. Dennis roared up to where Natalie and Hutchinson were. He jumped out and grabbed the equipment Al Massri was carrying. He shook the big man’s hand.

“Thank you.”

Al Massri nodded at his men to load the Land Rover with everything they’d bought.

“Military vests, two hundred rounds each, handguns, spare bullets, trackers, three automatic assault rifles.”

“Where are you going?” Al Massri asked Dennis.

“The people in that plane are searching for something that is very dear to us. We would very much like to get to it first.”

“Is that the reason for the guns?”

“Yes. They have tried to kill us on more than one occasion.”

“Where are you headed?”

“We think Galiliee.”

“Are you going to enter Israel?”

“We have to. There is no other choice.”

Al Massri moved away from the Land Rover.

“I wish you luck.”

“Thank you. Ma Salama. Goodbye.”

“Ma Salama.”

“Better keep the weapons out of sight,” Dennis said to his companions. He engaged first gear and the defender roared away.

“We didn’t get any extra food,” Hutchinson shouted above the noise.

“We should have some left,” Dennis shouted back.

Natalie leaned over the back seat and rummaged through the items they’d brought in from Egypt.

“We’ve still got some cheese, chocolate, water, some biscuits. That bread we bought is going hard though.”

“It’ll be enough. Might just need it for a night. If all goes well we’ll be in Israel tonight or tomorrow.”

“And where are we going now?”

“Look that plane should not have landed here. Nothing can and if Israeli forces didn’t shoot it down then it must have permission to land. And if that’s the case I want to know why and what they’re doing here.”

“And we’re going to just drive straight in there are we?”

“No. I’m going to see if I can get a tracker on that plane.”

“That is precisely what I was worried you were going to say.”



Natalie, Dennis and Hutchinson watched the activity around the Hercules from a distant vantage point. Behind them was Rafah. It was getting dark and Dennis glanced at his watch again. Natalie was starting to shiver at the cool evening air.

Dennis was laying on his front while peering through a pair of binoculars. He had watched as netted pallets of cargo had been unloaded and reloaded into the large belly of the transporter by a fork lift truck. There were currently pallets and crates scattered nearby as the fork lift driver sorted them.

The Hercules was stopped on the smooth desert terrain where cones marked a landing strip. The badly damaged runways had long since gone, ripped up many years before by civilians who, after the airport was destroyed in 2001 by Israel, had used the tarmac and foundations for building materials elsewhere in Rafah.

The three had been watching the activity for some hours now. The only visitor had been a large black Mercedes saloon flying Palestinian flags from its front wings. Men in suits with short stubby machine guns had got out of the car along with another man in a suit who had appeared to be unarmed. Then as Dennis had watched, the stunning redhead he had seen on the ocean breeze and the unmistakeable figure of Von Werner had descended from the open ramp at the back of the Hercules. The redhead moved to stand by him.

Dennis watched as they’d conversed for several minutes and then Von Werner surrounded by his armed men had handed over a large briefcase, clearly payment for something.

The two men had shaken hands. Then the man from the Mercedes shook the hand of the redhead, turned and had gotten back into the saloon which sped away.

Now Dennis focused on the tall redhead. She was clearly saying something to Von Werner, then together, they turned and he placed an arm around her shoulder as they headed for the severly wrecked airport buildings.

Dennis watched for a further few minutes as the forklift truck continued to drive crates up the ramp into the back of the Hercules. He counted all the men on the ground with guns. There appeared to be twelve in all. Then he saw Petrov standing with two others. The Russian appeared to be giving orders. Then he too headed for the buildings. Dennis had seen enough. He scrabbled back to where Natalie and Hutchinson waited, crouching by a large rock.

“I’m going down there.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” Hutchinson said.

“You don’t think it’s too dangerous?” Natalie asked, knowing he wouldn’t.

“If I can get a tracker on one of those crates we can find out where they’re going. Then all we need to do is follow. They’ll lead us straight to where they hope the spear will work. Maybe we could even collect the bounty on Von Werner.”

“Or get killed in the process,” Hutchinson put in.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just going to plant a tracker and I’ll be out.”

“Okay. We’ll be watching,” Hutchinson said, “The first sign of trouble and I want you out of there.”

“No worries. I’m going to take the AK-47. Maybe I can pass as a local if I’m seen. They’d probably shoot first and ask questions later but I’ve got to try.”

Dennis kissed Natalie on the lips.

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.”

Dennis checked that the Kalashnikov was loaded, put it over his back, wrapped his keffiyeh around his head and covered all but his eyes with it. He gave his companions a cheery wave and set off towards the destroyed airport.

To begin with he moved fast because there was no cover. Once he stopped and ducked behind rocks as vehicles rumbled past him. He looked back to where he’d left Natalie and Hutchinson. He couldn’t see them in the failing light but he knew they’d still be watching his every move.

Dennis had a quick check around him then moved off again. He kept low, almost running over double. Natalie feeling the cold now got up from her crouching position, her joints stiff.

“I’m going to get something warm to put on,” she said, remembering she had an extra hoodie in the land rover.

“Okay,” Hutchinson said, not taking his eyes away from the binoculars.

She got back to the land rover and opened the rear door. She rummaged around on the back seat until she found her hooded top and put it over her head. She pulled it down her face and stopped.

A convoy of army lorries was heading towards her, their headlights ablaze. She instinctively ducked down out of sight as they thundered past the white land rover. She was able to see out of the back window that there were four of them. Their drivers paid no heed to the parked vehicle. Natalie waited until they’d disappeared from sight before getting back out of the land rover. She ran back to Hutchinson.

“Jim did you see the trucks?”

“Yes. Did you see what was in them?”

“No.”

“Shit,” he said, watching Dennis through the binoculars, “I hope they’re not heading in Pete’s direction.”

Dennis had made it undetected to the first of the ruined airport buildings. These concrete structures showed the scars of battle. There were no windows left intact and the walls were peppered with bullet and shell holes. Von Werner’s armed sentries patrolled nonchalantly as the forklift continued to bring crates down from the Hercules. Dennis watched and waited for an opportunity to break his cover and as soon as he saw two of the guards meet with their backs to him he made his move. He dashed across the open ground and the now sand runway and slid into cover behind some crates. He resisted the urge to cough at the dust he’d kicked up and stole a quick peek around his cover. The forklift driver was continuing with his work, completely unawares. The two sentries were now walking away from each other.

Now for the first time Dennis took a look at the crate he was hiding behind. It had red crosses on white backgrounds stamped all over it.

‘What the f*ck is Von Werner up to?’ Dennis asked himself.

From where he was laying with the binoculars Hutchinson could see two men approaching where Dennis was crouching.

“Shit Pete! Get out of there,” he said out loud.

Natalie looked on anxiously.

Dennis moved to the end of the crate to see if there was anything else stamped on it to give away its contents. He heard the voices of the two men approaching and stole a quick glance. He shot his head back behind the crate. Two men carrying machine guns across their chests were fifty metres away. Dennis reached down to his thigh and unclipped the holster around his leg and pulled out his Sig-pro handgun. He would have to take the two of them out with one shot each if he was discovered. He pressed the gun against his face and readied. He peered around the crate again. The two men were almost on top of him and he couldn’t believe in the halflight that they hadn’t seen him. Then suddenly they were spinning around as the four army trucks rumbled onto the sand runway. The two men began walking back the way they’d come. Dennis was now able to lean out to watch. He took his attention off the two men as he saw Von Werner and the redhead come out of the building and stand side by side. The lead truck stopped in front of them and the passenger door opened and a man in camouflage jumped out. He strode up to Von Werner and the two shook hands. The man then shook hands with the redhead. They appeared to be discussing something then Von Werner led the man in camouflage to a nearby crate. Von Werner clicked his fingers at one of his men who came forward with a crowbar and prised the lid off the crate. The man in camouflage reached in and took out an AK-12 assault rifle. He held it up, pulled out and replaced the magazine, flicked the safety switch and sighted down the gun and fired a few practice bullets. Then, pleased, he put it back in the crate. He shook hands with Von Werner again then turned and gave an order. His men jumped out of the four trucks and began loading the crates into the backs of the lorries. One man approached the trio carrying something in his arms. The man in camouflage took it from him and presented it to Von Werner. From where Dennis was watching he couldn’t see what was being offered. Von Werner appeared to unwrap something and the redhead moved forward to examine whatever it was. She gave her approval and now Von Werner completely uncovered it and held it in both hands examining it. Dennis still couldn’t see what it was. It appeared to be a large, long stick or pole or something similar in nature. Dennis fished around in his pockets until he found his mobile phone. He selected Hutchinson’s number and rang it.

Still laying on his front with the binoculars Hutchinson found his phone and answered it.

“Jim!” Dennis called in a loud whisper.

“Yes Pete.”

“Are you still watching and seeing this?”

“Yeah.”

“What has Von Werner been handed?”

“It’s a wooden pole or something. It doesn’t look to be anything special. It’s quite ordinary sort of….Holy shit Pete! I think it’s the shaft of a spear.”

“A spear…” then the realisation of what he was witnessing sunk in, “Hey! Do you think it’s a Roman spear shaft?”

“Could be,” Hutchinson replied, “You mean like the shaft of Longinus’ spear.”

These words hit home for Dennis.

“Yeah could be,” then the doubt set in, “No it can’t be can it? What would someone, a terrorist, soldier, mercenary, or whatever he is be doing with such a relic here in Palestine. No it can’t be.”

“Well it seems pretty important.”

“Yeah important enough for Von Werner to be paying in brand new Kalashnikov AK-12’s. Those things only came out this year.”

“Yeah I saw that…. Shit Pete look out!”

A shadow fell across Dennis. He turned and was able to roll out of the way just in time as a machine gun butt crashed into the crate where his head had been a moment before. He kicked out with his legs and this made the other man stumble long enough for Dennis to get to his feet. He wasn’t quick enough and the other man was on him, grabbing him by the throat and pulling him close. The grip was death like and Dennis was already struggling to breathe. The man was mocking Dennis in a language that was gutteral, the teeth bared. It sounded Russian to the journalist’s ears. Dennis brought his hands together and chopped at the man’s pressure points by the side of the neck but he met tough, heavy, Kevlar. It numbed his hands. Incredibly the man squeezed Dennis’ throat harder and he felt his face go red. He wriggled and fought and scrabbled at the man’s clothing. His opponent was heavily armed and armoured. Dennis’ fingers found a handgun but in the fight he couldn’t free it from the holster across the man’s chest. Then his fingers brushed against the handle of a large, very sharp, combat knife. Dennis managed to unclip the knife and pull it out. The other man head butted him hard twice in the face while still choking him. Dennis felt the knife slip from his fingers and fall to the desert floor. He now felt his face turning purple and he began to cough. Frantically he searched with his fingertips for anything he could use against his assailant. Then his fingers found grenades on the mans combat vest and he felt a ring pull. His fingers entered the ring and he pulled the pin out and held it up to the man’s face. The Russian let Dennis go who groped away drawing his first breath in over a minute. The man was frantically patting his equipment over looking for the live grenade. Dennis jumped up and drop kicked the man who staggered back half a dozen steps. Dennis threw himself face first into the sand and covered his head with his hands as the Russian shouted something and then exploded. A smoking boot landed next to Dennis’ head and he opened his eyes and moved his hands away from his head. Where the Russian had been there was now a large black mark on the sand and the entire area was soaked in blood. Large lumps of meat were raining down around the journalist. Dennis heard voices shouting and he turned and saw men running towards him with guns ready.

“F*ck!”

Dennis took the AK-47 from his shoulders, slung it round in front of him and loosed off a volley at the approaching men. He hit one who went down flat on his face which sent other men diving for cover. Dennis ducked back behind a pallet and continued to lean out and fire random bursts. He changed mags and leaned out again. The men he was firing at were moving up on his position, drawing closer. In the background he saw Von Werner and the redhead running for the Hercules, it‘s engines now running.

“We have been compromised!” Von Werner shouted at the man in camouflage as he and the redhead raced past and ran up the ramp and into the Hercules. The man in camouflage watched them go then turned, drew his handgun and began walking slowly after his men.

Everytime Dennis leaned out from cover to fire the Kalashnikov he was alarmed to see his enemies had moved even closer. He fired another burst at a man who was trying to flank him. The man was hit in the legs and went down groaning and holding his knees. Dennis sent another burst and the Ak-47 suddenly stopped firing. He pulled the trigger again but now there was only a click. He took the magazine out. He was out of bullets.

“Damn!”

He slung the Kalashnikov over his back and took out the Sig-pro again. He leaned out of cover and shot one man straight in the face. The man went down without a sound, a look of surprise on his face. Bullets now sprayed the pallet of crates Dennis was crouching behind. He waited until they stopped, leaned out and hit another man four times in the chest. This man went down also. Dennis turned to his right and shot another man who was trying to flank him dead. Something heavy landed in the sand near him and he saw it was a grenade and instinctively dived out of its way. It exploded two seconds later so close it caused ringing in his ears. For a second he was stunned and he shook his head not yet knowing if he was hurt or not. He fired the Sig-pro again and again but missed his targets. Then this gun stopped also and Dennis knew he was out of bullets and that he was now living the last few moments of his life. He looked at the Sig-pro and pursed his lips, accepting his fate. He looked on as the men advancing on him had stopped running and were now walking slowly towards him, their weapons trained on him, calling out, taunting and jeering him. Dennis saw the man in camouflage at the back of his men, fury written all over his face. The forklift had picked up the last pallet and was now heading for the loading ramp of the Hercules, Von Werner at the top of the ramp still shouting orders.

Dennis had resigned himself to his fate and was now stood with a smirk on his face as the two men closest to him began instructing him to drop to his knees with his hands on his head. Slowly he sank to the sand. One man let his machine gun fall to his waist by its straps and drew a vicious looking hunting knife, his mouth grinning. He spun suddenly in surprise and died under the wheels of the land rover defender being driven by Hutchinson. The second man turned with his machine gun to fire at the vehicle just as it collided with him with force and threw his body twenty yards away, the sand staining red with his blood. The other men pursuing Dennis now dropped to one knee and began firing at the land rover. Natalie threw open the rear passenger door while ducking from the bullets splattering the bodywork.

“Peter get in!” she shouted.

Dennis jumped up and sprinted to the land rover. Hutchinson sped away as Dennis dived through the door. Hutchinson ran two more men down as others dived out of his way.

The Hercules was now moving slowly along the sand runway, the ramp slowly raising. Von Werner’s men running after it and jumping in one at a time. Dennis picked up an AR-15 from the back of the defender, pointed it out of the window and killed three of the men in camouflage.

“Catch up to that plane,” Dennis shouted.

“You got it,” Hutchinson said, looking into the rear view mirror at the gunmen now being left behind.

The land rover was gaining on the Hercules which was now also gaining speed.

“What are you going to do?” Hutchinson asked.

“I didn’t get a chance to get that tracker on board. Try and catch up to it before that ramp fully closes.”

“I’m on it!” Hutchinson yelled above the noise of the screaming land rover engine.

The Hercules was now approaching take off speed and Hutchinson pushed the land rover to its limits. Dennis climbed over into the front passenger seat and got a magnetic tracker ready. Hutchinson was directly behind the Hercules now as it kicked up a cloud of dust from its wheels.

“Whatever you’re going to do you’d better hurry,” the American said looking at the speedometer which was hovering over the sixty miles per hour mark, “I don’t think this thing can go any faster.”

Dennis opened the passenger door and began to climb out.

“Pete! What the f*ck are you doing?”

“Just get me closer.”

Dennis was holding onto the door, his feet still inside the vehicle, the ground beneath him whipping by in a blur. The land rover hit a bump and he was nearly thrown out. Hutchinson grappled with the steering wheel and brought the vehicle back to his control. Dennis readied the tracker by switching it on. He waited for the optimum moment to throw, then drew back his arm and launched it. For a brief moment Dennis thought it would miss. The ramp was almost closed and he saw with relief as the tracker entered the space between the ramp and the fuselage and disappear from view just as the ramp fully closed. Dennis climbed back into the defender and slammed the door shut.

“It’s in!” he shouted, “I just hope no one saw it.”

The small tracker had shot through the small gap left as the ramp was closing. It had struck one of the six pallets that had been loaded and had bounced off and settled underneath another pallet.

Hutchinson brought the land rover to a stop and Dennis searched for the tracker on his I-phone. The Hercules got up to take off speed and lifted off the desert. It took a minute and Dennis shouted excitedly as a red dot appeared on the smart phone’s screen.

“We’ve got them,” he said, watching as the Hercules was climbing into the evening sky.

Hutchinson looked into the rear view mirror. Men were running up the runway towards them. Dennis turned and looked out of the back window. He saw the running men and behind them the four army lorries turning and heading towards them. The gunmen running alongside and jumping up into them as they passed.

“We’d better get out of here,” Dennis said, “There’s a place in the city we

can hide. I’ll show you the way.”