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  "Makes me wonder what's inside," Ronnie said.

  "Why don't we find out?" Lamont said.

  The side of the barn was littered with scrap, the kind of junk found on every old farm. Rolls of wire. An ancient tractor. A broken pump. Odd pieces of rusted machinery. Pieces of pipe.

  Lamont picked up a length of half inch pipe about two feet long. He went back to the door, thrust the pipe through the loop of the padlock and braced it against the metal plate. He levered down, grunting with the force. The lock, plate and bolts pulled away from the old wood with a screeching sound. It sounded like someone dragging their nails across a blackboard.

  Selena covered her ears. "I hate that sound."

  Lamont made a claw of his hand and pretended to run it across an invisible surface.

  "Eeeeeee."

  "Very funny," Selena said.

  "Looks like somebody broke in here," Lamont said. "We'd better investigate, just to make sure everything's okay."

  Forsberg shook his head, but he was smiling. Ronnie and Nick swung the doors open.

  The interior of the barn was cold and uninviting. Dust moats floated in shafts of sunlight coming through holes in the roof. The floor was packed dirt. Three wooden stalls lined one side of the building. Old tools hung on the other wall.

  Andersson's blue Saab was parked at the far end.

  "Bingo," Ronnie said.

  The Volvo started up outside.

  "Fuck!" Forsberg yelled.

  He pulled his gun and ran to the open doors of the barn. The car fishtailed down the drive as it accelerated. Forsberg took up a two-handed stance and fired. The rear window shattered. He kept firing until the magazine was empty and the slide of his Glock locked open.

  The Volvo slowed and veered to the side. It kept going until it went over the edge of an irrigation ditch paralleling the drive, ending up nose down in the ditch, rear wheels spinning. The horn sounded a steady, raucous note.

  They walked toward the ditch. Forsberg kept his pistol ready.

  "I smell gas," Selena said.

  A wisp of pale flame flickered along the side of the car.

  "Oh, oh," Ronnie said.

  The gas tank exploded. A bright, orange flower burst into bloom against the white snow. They force of the blast knocked them down. One of the car doors spiraled into the air and came crashing down fifty feet away.

  A column of dirty black smoke rose into the sky.

  Forsberg picked himself up and brushed snow off his clothes. He looked at the burning hulk.

  "Damn it, that was my personal car."

  "Looks like you were right about somebody being home," Nick said to Selena.

  CHAPTER 9

  Forsberg called his headquarters, spoke for a few moments and put the phone back in his pocket.

  "Forensics is coming. They'll bring a vehicle for us. Until then, we're stuck here."

  "I want to take another look around," Nick said. "Why was someone here? He must've been guarding something and it wasn't Andersson's car."

  "Whoever it was, he didn't want to get caught." Selena brushed dirt off her jacket sleeve.

  "Let's start with the barn," Forsberg said.

  The barn revealed nothing except a patch of oil under Andersson's car.

  The door of the house was open. Wide spaced footprints in the snow showed where the driver of the Volvo had run from the house to the car. They went inside and began going from room to room, opening cupboards, looking in closets. There was furniture in every room but it was obvious that the house had not been lived in for years. On the second floor they found a sagging bed, a chair, and a dresser with a cracked mirror. The bed had been slept in. There was a Koran on the dresser.

  Forsberg held up the book. "Why does this not surprise me?"

  The first and second floors gave up nothing else of interest.

  "Is there a root cellar?" Selena asked. "Wouldn't there be something like that on one of these old farms?"

  "There should be. The entrance is usually off the kitchen," Forsberg said.

  "I didn't see one," Ronnie said.

  They went back to the kitchen. Ronnie was right. There was no obvious door or entrance to a cellar.

  An enormous china cupboard was pushed up against one wall.

  "If I were a door, where would I be?" Nick said. "What's behind that big cupboard?"

  "Let's find out," Ronnie said.

  Selena pointed at the stone floor. "There are old scratches. Someone's moved it before."

  Ronnie and Nick moved the cupboard away from the wall. Behind it was a wooden door painted green. Nick pulled it open, took out a pocket flashlight and shone light through the opening. A short flight of wooden steps led into darkness. He climbed down, followed by Lamont.

  "Creepy down here," Lamont said.

  The floor was dirt, littered with old rat droppings. They had to stoop under a low, beamed ceiling covered with spider webs. Open wooden bins took up much of the confined space. The bins were empty. There was nothing at all to indicate that anyone had been in the cellar for a long time.

  Back upstairs, Nick brushed fragments of cobwebs from his jacket.

  "There's still that stone building," Ronnie said.

  The building wasn't locked. The windows were broken. It was one large room and it was empty.

  They went back outside.

  "There has to be something here," Nick said.

  "Maybe he was squatting," Selena said.

  "Sure, but why steal the car? How much trouble could someone get in for sleeping in an abandoned house? It's overkill. I keep thinking about that fancy padlock on the barn. We should take another look."

  "We've been in there twice already," Forsberg said.

  "Not like we've got something better to do," Lamont said. "We're not going anywhere until someone comes to take us back to town."

  The barn looked the same as it had an hour before. Selena wandered over to the stalls. The dirt floors still had old straw on them. She started into the middle stall to look at an old piece of leather tack hung on the weathered boards and stumbled against something. She kicked the straw away, exposing an iron ring in the floor.

  "Over here."

  The ring was set in a wooden trapdoor. Nick bent down and pulled on it. The door came up easily on oiled hinges.

  A wooden ladder dropped straight down into whatever lay below.

  He handed Selena his flashlight. "Hold the light for me."

  The bottom of the hidden room was ten feet below the stable floor. The room was about twenty feet square but it wasn't old, like the rest of the farm. The boards forming the walls were clean and fresh, the nails holding them together still bright.

  "Better come down here," Nick called.

  Forsberg came down the ladder, followed by Selena. She played the light around the room. Four long crates stamped with Swedish markings were stacked against a wall. There were boxes at the end of the room.

  Nick pointed the light at the nearest crate. "What does that say in Swedish?"

  "Shit," Forsberg said.

  "It says shit?"

  "Those are military markings."

  He walked over to the crate. The lid was loose. He lifted it up.

  "Assault rifles. AK5Cs. They're issued to the home guard."

  "That explains the lock," Nick said, "and why they left someone behind."

  "Bring the light over here," Selena said.

  She stood at the back of the room, looking down at the contents of an open crate. It was filled with artifacts packed in straw. It was easy to see that the objects were old. Selena picked up a statue of a goddess, about eight inches tall.

  "This is Babylonian. It's a statue of Astarte. Probably looted from Iraq."

  "ISIS,"Nick said.

  "Has to be."

  Nick turned to Forsberg. "After finding this, I don't think you have to worry much about what happened at the refugee center."

  Selena lifted the top off another crate.

  "Wow," she sai
d.

  The gold gleamed in the light of her torch. The crate was filled with objects stolen from Christian churches. There was a gold chalice and two gold candlesticks. With the chalice and candlesticks was a silver Orthodox crucifix set with precious stones.

  There was a silver box, about a foot long and eight inches across. Words in Latin were scribed on the surface of the lid.

  Liber Simon

  Selena opened it. Inside were two ancient scrolls of vellum.

  If she hadn't opened that box, everything would have been different.

  CHAPTER 10

  Selena took the box with her when they climbed out of the hidden room. Back in the house, they sat down at a wooden table in the kitchen and waited for Forsberg's people to arrive.

  Nick looked at the silver container. "What does the Latin say?"

  "It says, 'The Book of Simon.'"

  Selena lifted one of the scrolls from the box.

  "It's still flexible. I think I can open it."

  She laid it on the table. With great care, she unrolled it.

  "This is written in biblical Aramaic."

  Selena scanned the scroll.

  "I don't believe this. If this is real..."

  "Well?" Lamont said. "What does it say?"

  "It's a description of the crucifixion, written by Simon of Cyrene."

  Nick looked at her. "Who was Simon?"

  "He's the one who helped Christ carry the cross. If this is authentic, it's an amazing find."

  Forsberg said. "I'm surprised those barbarians didn't melt the box down and throw that scroll in the trash."

  "They may be barbarians, but their leaders aren't stupid," Nick said. "They need money for weapons. Looted antiquities are a big source of income for them, right after oil. The black market for artifacts is huge. There are plenty of people who don't care how something was obtained. One of those little statues like Selena held up is worth thousands to a collector."

  "Your man Andersson must have discovered what they were doing," Ronnie said.

  Nick turned to Forsberg. "Everything points back to that refugee center. Are you going to raid it?"

  Forsberg sighed. "The government is reluctant to do anything that involves Muslim immigrants. They're afraid of being criticized at the UN."

  "I was them, I'd be more afraid of the terrorists," Lamont said. "Whoever hid those guns wasn't planning on hunting reindeer."

  "We don't have reindeer down here," Forsberg said.

  "Whatever."

  "I'll have to go to the Minister with this. I can make a good case for a raid, but I can't do it without permission."

  "What if you can't get it?" Nick asked.

  Forsberg smiled. "Even a politician can be persuaded to do the right thing once in a while. They'll give it to me. There's an election coming up. Finding and eliminating an ISIS terror cell would look good in the papers. Not everyone in our government is afraid to do what needs to be done."

  "I hear vehicles," Selena said.

  Forsberg got up. Selena put scroll back in the box and took it with her as they followed him outside. Three cars and a van pulled up. A dark-haired woman wearing a red winter jacket got out of the lead vehicle.

  "Wait here," Forsberg said. "I won't be long."

  He walked over to the woman and began speaking with her. He pointed at the barn, then at the ditch, where the remains of the Volvo smoldered under a sullen sky.

  Nick took out his phone. "I'd better call Harker."

  Elizabeth picked up on the second ring.

  "About time, Nick. Where are you?"

  "Standing in the Swedish countryside looking at a wrecked car. It's been a busy couple of days."

  He ran the events of the past forty-eight hours past her.

  "The Swedes are going to raid that refugee center. I want us along."

  "You think they'll have a problem with that?"

  "I can't see them letting us go with them. For one thing, they won't give us weapons. They'll send in their SWAT team."

  "Then let them go ahead and do the work," Elizabeth said.

  "What if they miss something?"

  "They're professional. KSI is small but they have a good reputation."

  "Can't you pull some strings and get us on that raid?"

  "What's your concern?"

  "The government here is way over on the left and afraid of international opinion. The Muslim refugee issue is a mine field. Forsberg says he can get the raid approved but I'm sure that if something sensitive turns up it will be suppressed. ISIS is flooding Europe with stolen artifacts. The immigrant center is one of the distribution points and no one is monitoring them. There could be evidence inside that implicates someone in the Swedish government or identifies an important buyer, someone who's protected. If there is, I want to get a look at it."

  "Mmm. It would be a big help if we could identify a buyer."

  "That stuff isn't cheap. Whoever is paying for it is rich and that means he's got clout. If the buyer is Swedish, we're never going to hear about it unless we're on the scene."

  "I see your point. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll see what I can do."

  "Let me speak with her," Selena asked.

  "Selena wants to talk to you."

  Nick handed Selena the phone. "Elizabeth, we found something with the artifacts."

  "Yes?"

  "It looks like a lost book from the Bible, or at least part of one. I'd like to translate it before I have to give it to the Swedes. It's an incredible find. The government is sure to conceal it until they've had a chance to study it."

  "And you want me to make sure you have the opportunity first?"

  "Yes. I could take photographs but it will be more accurate if I have them in my hands. Can you make that happen?"

  "That will be easier than getting the four of you on that raid," Elizabeth said. "With your reputation, I don't see why it should be a problem. You'd be doing them a favor."

  "Wonderful. Thanks."

  She handed the phone back to Nick.

  Forsberg had finished speaking with his colleague. He started toward them.

  "We're about to head back into town," Nick said. "Anything else, Director?"

  "Play nice with the Swedes and keep a low profile."

  CHAPTER 11

  The raid was on, but Forsberg had been warned in no uncertain terms against creating an international incident. If there was trouble and the government needed a scapegoat, he was going to be it. He'd decided the best way to head off potential problems was with a show of force.

  Nick and the others had been allowed on the raid as observers. They still had no weapons. They were not allowed to enter the center until the Swedes had secured the building.

  It was three in the morning, dark and cold. The air felt raw and smelled of coming snow. Nick, Selena, Ronnie and Lamont sat in a car parked three blocks away from the center, behind two Plasan sand cats carrying the Swedish SWAT teams. The SWAT vehicles had been designed in Israel and carried eight men each. The Plasan was basically an armored box slapped onto a shortened Ford F-350 platform. It was cheap, rugged and effective.

  The cold seeped into the car in spite of the heater. The windows had fogged up with condensation.

  "He's going to go in there hard," Ronnie said. "Did you see those guys? They're wired to the eyeballs."

  "You would be too," Lamont said, "especially if it was your first time going into action."

  "You think it's their first time?"

  "Most of them look like they're about eighteen," Lamont said. "They don't have the look. You know what I mean?"

  "What look?" Selena asked.

  "The look that comes after you've been in shit up to your ears with people trying to kill you. You never noticed it in your mirror? "

  "There might not be any real trouble," Nick said. "The Swedes are carrying assault rifles. You'd have to be stupid to go against those with pipes and knives or whatever you can find lying around."

  "I don't think the
people in that building are the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree," Lamont said.

  "There were grenades in one of those cases at the barn," Selena said.

  Forsberg had given them a handheld radio. Now it crackled with final comm checks. The two SWAT vehicles would head for the front of the building. A third group was on foot, concealed on the other side of the soccer field behind the center. The plan was for all three units to converge at the same time. Nick and the others had been ordered to stay back until the all clear.

  Forsberg's voice came over the radio. "All units, execute."

  "Here we go," Lamont said.

  The two vehicles moved out in front of them. Nick cursed at the condensation on the windshield and wiped it away, then followed behind. In less than a minute they'd arrived at the refugee center. Men in black tactical gear carrying Heckler and Koch MP5s poured out. They split into three groups and headed for the entrances.

  Nick pulled up and parked. They got out of the car.

  "Sure wish we had our weapons," Ronnie said.

  The doors to the building were locked. Battering rams came out. It took just seconds to smash the locks. There were shouts from inside the building as the men started in.

  The sound of a pistol cut through the shouting like a hot knife. There was an answering burst of automatic fire, the unforgettable signature of a three round burst from an AK-47.

  "That's torn it," Lamont said.

  More gunfire came from the building. Nick heard the familiar sound of the MP5s, the hard bark of a heavy pistol, then two more AKs joining in. Windows shattered in the front of the building. Rounds whistled overhead.

  They ducked down behind the car. The sound of an explosion rocked the night air, then another.

  "Flash bangs," Lamont said.

  There was another, different explosion.

  "That was a grenade," Ronnie said. "They've got their hands full in there."

  Selena pointed at the end of the building. "Someone's down there."

  Three men carrying guns came around the corner and moved in a crouch toward the entrance where Forsberg had gone in. Two of them had pistols. The third cradled an AK. They weren't Swedish.

  "I thought the back was covered," Ronnie said.