Caldron of the Druids

PROLOGUE
The praetorian guard stood watching as the Greek and the slaves slowly filled the expanded cave with the old records, snorting with disgust each time the Greek passed. It had taken two months and the lives of seven slaves to expand the small series of caves, and for what?, just so the old records from the Imperial archives could be slimmed down.
He stepped back as yet more slaves scurried past with their loads of scrolls and tablets, one of which dropped to the floor un-noticed. The guard reached down to pick it up, taking a brief look. He snorted in disgust again, it was pay records for the fourteenth legion, but over twenty years old. What a waste of time he thought as he handed the scroll back to one of the slaves, who went to file it back in the correct order.
A few minutes later the Greek came up to him
“We need to collect another load soldier, ensure no one enters whilst we are away”
“As ordered” the guard answered stonily, keeping his dislike of the Greek at bay
“Good, we shall return shortly”
The praetorian watched them leave, then frowned as a curtain of dust seemed to fall around the entrance to the cave. Looking carefully to make sure he was not being observed, he moved further back into the cave and away from the falling dust. Although unheated, the interior of the cave was still warmer than the winter air outside, so he relaxed his guard a little, rubbing his hands and stamping his feet to warm them.
Suddenly the ground shook sharply beneath him, sending several of the scrolls falling off their shelves and onto the cave floor. Thoroughly alarmed, the guard started to move back towards the mouth of the cave but the second shock struck before he got there.
With a load roaring sound the ground trembled violently beneath him, making him stumble, then a falling rock struck his helmet hard, knocking him senseless to the ground. The tremor continued for a full minute longer, knocking people across the city to the ground, cracking columns and starting fires.
The praetorian awoke to find the cave entrance completely blocked, the only light coming from the two flaming torches left by the slaves at the back of the cave but, with so much effort having put into the moving of the records, he knew that he would soon be dug out and so he settled down to wait.
Meanwhile, outside in Rome, the earthquake had not only caused damage and started a number of fires, it had also caused a section of the imperial archives to collapse, killing the overseer, his Greek assistant and a number of slaves. In the confusion no-one remembered, and later no-one would be bothered, about the old records that had been removed to the caves. That a praetorian guard was left on duty in the caves was forgotten and soon the very existence of them was also forgotten in its turn.

CHAPTER 1
The quake, 5.8 on the Richter scale, was the worst to hit Rome in many years. Although the epicentre was located in the Alban Hills region, about 20km southeast of Rome, a number of buildings in the city still sustained damage, and four were condemned as a result. As ever with insurance companies though, the owners had to wait to receive their money and so it was over two months later when Mario Putzio’s construction company won the contract to demolish one of the buildings and to build a block of apartments in its place.
The contract was the largest that Mario’s company had won, and so he oversaw the site himself, following the progress every step of the way. It was for this reason that he was where he was when the ground literally fell from under him.
Walking behind one of the diggers as it cleared rubble from the site, Mario felt the ground tremble beneath his feet, then he found himself falling through space into a deep pit that had opened at his feet. Workmen rushed to the edge of the hole that had opened. About two metres across, it looked like a dark mouth on the floor of the old building and, crowding round, the workers could see Mario laid on the bottom some 5 metres below.
“siete avete danneggiato il mario” [are you hurt Mario?] one worker shouted
“sono benissimo, agitato appena” [I’m fine, just shaken] Mario replied
The workers shouted down to him that they would bring ropes, and whilst he waited Mario looked around him. Although there was not enough light to see clearly, he could still see enough to make out that he was in some sort of cave or store with shelves of rolled up documents placed in the middle. He strained his eyes to look further along the cave, then with a shiver of dread he crossed himself as he realised he was not alone.
Half sat up against the shelves, barely two metres from Mario was a man, but no, not a man he realised as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, it was a body, seemingly sculpted from old leather and wearing armour that most Italians would recognise, the armour of a Roman soldier. Suddenly a voice echoed around the cave, making him jump with fright, before he realised that it came from the hole above him.
“Signor Putzio, are you OK?”
“Yes, yes I am fine”
“We are lowering a ladder for you, please stand back in case it slips”
The ladder was carefully lowered without mishap and one of his workers was on and climbing down before Mario had even reached the bottom step.
“Angelo” Mario called up to him “get some lights down here, I think we’ve stumbled on a tomb”

Three months later.
Marco Vittozzi, spokeman for the Musei Capitolini [Capitoline museum] adjusted his tie as he waited for the television presenter to turn to him. He was in the studio to answer questions about the remarkable discovery 3 months earlier of the scrolls and records from the first century AD, along with the semi mummified remains of a praetorian guardsman. The museum had been analysing the finds for almost 3 months before announcing their findings to the world in a short press release two days earlier.
“And now for more on the finds that have captured viewers imaginations over the past few days, I am pleased to introduce Signor Vittozzi from the Musei Capitoline, one of our country’s most eminent historians” the presenter said, turning to Marco
“Thank you for your kind introduction, it is a pleasure to be here”
“Signor Vittozzi, what can you tell the viewers about this remarkable discovery of the Roman empires archives?”
“Well firstly I should point out that most of the scrolls refer to pay and other administration records of the legions from around 50AD to 80AD, and not the whole imperial archives as several newspapers have alleged”

In was almost two hours later when Marco Vittozzi left the television studios and got into his car. He got into his seat and gave a large yawn before moving to insert his key in the ignition, freezing as his eye caught movement in the mirror and a cold hard object was pressed into his neck
“Good evening professore, please don’t make any sudden moves, a bullet through the head tends to make such a mess”
“Wha, what do you want?, is it money? I can get you money”
“Calm down professore, I just need to borrow something from the museum, you can take me there, get me in and give me access to the computer database. Then I will tie you up and leave you there for the staff to find when they come in in the morning, no need for anyone to get hurt”
“What is it you want? There is no gold, no valuables…”
“Just some knowledge professore, now please drive there, my finger gets jumpy when I hold the trigger for too long”.
With his hands trembling Vittozzi started the car and started the journey to the museum, trying to catch a glimpse of his passengers face in the mirror, but without success.
The stranger remained quite during the drive to the museum, only speaking once as Marco went to park the car
“This is not your usual space professore, please park where you would normally”
Flustered, Marco moved the car to his usual space and turned off the engine
“Now hand me the keys professore, then open your door and wait until I tell you to get out”
Marco did as he was told and waited whilst the man exited the car to stand by the open drivers door
“You can get out now professore”
Marco got out of the car and saw his hijacker for the first time. The man was slim built, but looked athletic. He was quite tall, about 180cm with a non-descript face that would have looked equally at home on a California beach or a Russian street except for an almost imperceptable non-western element that Marco could not define.
The man smiled at Marco, a cold smile without any warmth
“If you have finished staring at me perhaps we can get on with it?”
“I’m sorry, I …” Marco started, only to be interrupted by the man
“No matter. Now, when we get inside I want you to ask the guard to call his colleague down. If you all behave then no one needs to be hurt, do you understand?”
“Yes”
“Good, then just one thing to do”
With this the man took a cell phone from his pocket, opened it and pressed one key, but instead one holding it to his eye he simply glanced at the screen before closing it up and putting the phone back in his pocket
“Come on then professore, time to lead the way”
The two of them walked to the museum entrance where Marco used his key to open the door so that they could enter.
A guard was sat at the desk reading a magazine as they went inside, but put it down straightaway, clearly surprised by his visitors. Without waiting for them he stood up and walked over
“Signor Vittozzi, I did not expect to see you tonight” the guard said, looking suspiciously at Marco’s companion
“Hello mario, where is Alberto?” Marco asked, to which the guard frowned, seeming even more suspicious
“Ma.. I mean Alberto is upstairs”
“Could you call him to come down here please/”
“Yes, of course, I’ll just call him up on the phone”
With this the guard turned and walked back towards the desk. Just as he reached the desk and started to lean towards the phone Marco’s hijacker took his pistol out of his pocket and fired it at the guard. The gun made a ‘phut’ sound as it spat its bullet from the silencer, a bullet that smashed into the base of the guards skull before exploding through the top of his head, spraying blood and gore across the table.
Marco gasped with shock as the guards body slumped over the desk
“That was your fault professore, addressing him by the wrong name was foolish”
“It… I mean I don’t remember names well” Marco said, trembling with shock “he was just going to call the other guard”
“If he had wanted to call the other guard he would have used the radio on his belt, not a telephone” the hijacker said, then turned sharply as another person entered the building.
The new intruder was dressed in black and wore a balaclava over his face, he was obviously expected as the hijacker simply held up one finger then motioned towards the stairs. The new man nodded once then drew out a pistol with a silencer before moving off up the stairs.
“Now professore, you are going to show me where the new Roman finds are stored, then take me to a computer where I can access the museum database, and no more foolishness”
“But I don’t understand …”
“You don’t need to, just do as your told and we can avoid any more trouble”
A little over ten minutes later and they were stood in Marco’s office, with Marco at his desk typing his password into the computer
“You are cleared to access the entire database?”
“Yes, of course, we don’t have any secrets, only academic research”
“Good, then you can move away from the computer now”
Unable to constrain himself any longer Marco blurted out
“But who are you?, what are you after?”
The man looked at him for a moment before replying
“Very well, I am known as Annubis, and there is some information in the recent Roman finds that I am being paid a lot of money to obtain”
Marco was stunned by the disclosure, then realisation of what it meant hit him a fraction of a second before the bullet from Annubus’s gun smashed into his forehead, throwing him back against the wall, blood smearing the woodwork as his body slid to the floor
“Goodbye professore, it’s been a pleasure working with you”
The door opened and he spun round, gun in hand, but relaxed as the man dressed in black entered
“The other guard?”
“Dead of course”
“And the explosives?”
“All in position”
“Good, then we need to recover the relevant scrolls”
“Which are?”
“Any for the fourteenth legion during the reign of Claudius, your Latin is upto the task?”
“Of course, and when we are finished?”
“You saved some C-4?”
“Two packs, as you asked”
“Good, then we will use those to destroy the rest of the scrolls when we have what we came for”.

Three weeks later at a army base near Hereford in England
Sergeant John Maxim walked into the briefing room to find that the other members of Alpha squad were already seated and Major Shaw was standing by the blackboard, observing him
“Sorry I’m late sir” John said
“Not a problem sergeant, I knew you would have trouble getting here in time from the training ground, just take a seat and we can start”
As John took his seat the Major started the briefing
“We’ve been given a rather special task lads, it seems intelligence has found the lair of a particularly nasty terrorist, one that peddles his brand of work to the highest bidder, and one that makes al-Qa’ida look almost tame”
“Are we supposed to bring him in?”
“Only if it’s pieces in a body bag corporal Cox” the Major answered before continuing
“Now intel has him on the island of Gozo, that’s part of Malta to you lot. For your information Malta is made up of three islands, Malta, the main and most southerly island, the little island of Comino in the middle and Gozo to the north-west of the main island”
“Do we have a firm location?” asked John
“According to intel, yes, they have placed him here” he pointed to the map stuck to the blackboard
“Just outside Marselforn on Gozo, to the west where the Triq Santa Marija runs to Xwejni Bay, you can see this spur of road that runs to the point?”
There were nods and grunts of agreement all round the room
“Well intel has him at the house to the rear of the one on the corner, you’ll have the GPS fix with your orders of course”
“Whats the time frame on this sir?”
“Maximum speed, you’ll fly out later this afternoon and join one of our frigates that regularly passes near to Malta. At 3am tomorrow, when they are at their closest to Gozo, they will slow down and put you into the water. At that point you will head to the east of Xwejni bay where you can exit the boats safely before moving out to terminate this bastard”
“If he’s still there”
“Intel have that one covered, evidently MI6 has a man watching the place”
“So the op’s a definite?”
“He’ll give the go signal at 2.55am. Now then, that’s the general outline, lets get down to the details”

2.00am, Villa Cooper, Marselforn, Gozo island
The man was met by two armed guards before he had even stepped two paces on the path that led to the villa’s entrance, but he was not in the least perturbed
“Druids of Mona” he said aloud and continued walking
The two guards exchanged a quick glance and moved back to their positions in the bushes at the edge of the path as the man quickly crossed the short distance to the front door and stepped inside.
As he entered he was met by yet another guard who turned and walked down the corridor, speaking with a thick middle eastern accent
“Follow me please”
The guard led him to a long, lavishly decorated room that was poorly lit, and a voice called out to him
“Ah Mr Buchannan, please come in and take a seat”
“Thank you Mr Annubis, I assume you have all the information?”
“Everything you requested, and I in turn assume that you have the account codes for me?”
“Of course, the remaining six million US$ is in three accounts as agreed. I will give you one account code on receipt and verification of the computer file, another on receipt of the three scrolls, and the remaining one via text exactly five minutes after leaving”
“Achmed, please bring the briefcase. The request for this meeting stated that you would have further business for me Mr Buchannan?”
“That is certain, but I have to make a call later on to make arrangements before your involvement”
“Very well, ah, here is Achmed with the briefcase”
The guard who had shown Mr Buchannan into the room now approached them and handed a smart leather briefcase to Annubis, who opened it and passed a 32GB USB memory stick to Mr Buchannan, who opened up the ultra thin laptop he had been carrying and plugged the stick in, quickly downloading the information.
“That seems to be in order, here is the first set of codes”
He passed a small sheet of paper across to the terrorist who put it into the briefcase without even glancing at it
“You’re not going to check it?” asked Mr Buchannan in surprise
“I don’t think you are foolish enough to try and cheat me Mr Buchannan, so lets carry on”
With this he took out three obviously ancient scrolls from the case, all wrapped in clingfilm.
Mr Buchannan looked at the clingfilm frowning, then looked at Annubis
“I am no specialist Mr Buchannan, but I understand that such things can be very delicate to the air and this was the best way to keep them safe that I could think of”
“I see, thank you” Mr Buchannan said, noticing that there was already a sheen of moisture showing on the inside of the clingfilm and hoping that the idiot had not caused too much damage.
“Very well, here is the other set of codes along with the account number for the final account. I will text you the access code for that account when I have left, enjoy your money”
“Thank you Mr Buchannan, the eight million dollars will be most useful”
Mr Buchannan nodded and left the room without looking back. Annubis gestured Achmed to come closer to him
“Follow him and keep him in your sight. Check in when you know where he is staying”
Achmed nodded once and moved after the man who was now leaving the villa.
Achmed followed the man silently, keeping well back and staying in the shadows. He watched Mr Buchannan disappear around the corner of the road before moving upto the corner himself, but when he looked around the corner he found that there was no sight of the man at all. Surprised and alarmed, he moved on a little way before stopping in confusion, there was nothing even to indicate that the man had been there.
As he stood still in confusion his head was suddenly pulled back and a knife rammed upwards through the top of his throat and into his brain, killing him instantly
“I don’t like being followed, but I think you’ve got the point now old chap” Mr Buchannan said as he released Achmed’s body to let it fall to the ground. He opened his cell phone and sent a text to the number Annubis had given him
“Well, that’s the first job out of the way”
He then looked at his watch, 2.52am
“Ah, everything falling to schedule, just how I like it”
He waited until the watch clicked onto 2.55am then dialled another number. When it was answered he said just three words
“It’s a go”
Smiling broadly Michael Buchannan, MI6 field officer, collected his laptop case from where he had placed it and, with the scrolls safely inside, walked off down the road smiling and whistling quietly to himself, secure in the knowledge that another loose end was about to be eliminated, and this time the SAS were going to do it for him.
Some two thousand miles away the receiver of the message checked the phrase used, had it been anything other than those three words ‘it’s a go’ the operation would have been cancelled, but since the phrase used was correct the operative called his officer over
“We have confirmation for the Malta operation sir”
“Very well, radio HMS Northumberland and tell them operation Pharaoh is confirmed”

3.02am off the coast of Gozo
“You’re on gentleman” the first officer said to the SAS team as he strode into their cabin
“We will drop back to dead slow in ten minutes, good luck”
“Thanks for the ride commander”
When the commander had left the team immediately checked over their kit before heading aft to where the zodiacs were waiting for them
“You all remember our rendezvous?” asked sergeant Maxim
“Yes sarge”
“Good, the MI6 bloke will be waiting for us there upto 4.30am with a change of clothing and documentation, if we get split up make sure you get there in time, Malta’s friendly but they won’t be happy if they find we’re conducting ops on their territory”

600 metres inland from Villa Cooper
The mini-bus, emblazoned with the words ‘Malta Island Tours’, sat in darkness under the clump of trees just a few metres from where the Triq Ghajn Mhelhel curved round to the left before straightening out as it entered the little village. From this position the occupant had a clear view down the road towards the bay and, if he stood on the roof, he would even have been able to see the top of Villa Cooper itself.
Michael Buchannan checked his watch, 3.44am. The SAS squad could arrive at the rendezvous from almost anytime now. He reached under his seat to pull out what appeared to be a very bulky set of sunglasses that looked as though they had been made for someone who suffered from extreme short-sightedness, but these were no ordinary sunglasses.
Made using cutting edge technology, they had two functions; one was that of night-vision glasses and the other was that of infra-red glasses with sufficient clarity to show up the body heat of a mouse at 10 metres. An added function was the zoom feature, although that was limited to a magnification of just 3x.
Michael set the glasses to infra red and maximum magnification, then put them on and scanned the land in front, ever cautious, even when it was his own people that he was supposed to be meeting, he took no chances.
It was for this reason that the short haired, clean shaven debonair man who had met Annubis a little over two hours before had now turned into a long-haired bearded and moustachioed man, dressed in jeans, tee-shirt and jacket with a turned up collar, topped off with a ‘Toronto Maple leafs’ baseball cap. The effect was to make him look like the tourist the Canadian passport in his pocket declared him to be.
It was this caution, along with his uncanny ability to mimic accents and linguistic talents, that had led to him being recognised by the agency as one of their top agents, indeed many reckoned him to be the top agent.
He had lived amongst the Taliban, trained with al-Qa’ida, shared a drink with a Columbian drug lord and shaken hands with American Presidents Bush and Obama, all without any of them being aware of who he actually was, or for that matter, any of their security people knowing either.
Unfortunately for British intelligence though, they also were totally unaware that his loyalties belonged to another organisation, an organisation that was almost two thousand years old and was searching for a very powerful artifact to bring them to power. An artifact they intended to use and cause the deaths of millions.
Sergeant John Maxim led his squad along the side of the road towards the rendezvous, eyes and ears alert for any sound. As they closed to within about 100 metres of the clump of trees he motioned the men to take cover. He reached into a pocket and took out a small pencil torch, which he aimed at the trees ahead before flashing it twice. He then waited five seconds before repeating the process, then another five seconds before doing it once again.
Watching through the infra-red setting on his glasses Michael had seen the shapes approaching, switching over to night vision as they got closer. He therefore saw the signal clearly, the light from the torch showing as a bright flash through the glasses. He took the glasses off and put them away, ignoring the signal completely for the moment. This was one more burst of caution, as he reasoned that, should an enemy have obtained the signal, then they would assume no answer meant that they had been tricked, but if the signal was genuine then it would be repeated again. Regardless of the result of this caution though he still reached down beside him to pick up his .357 SIG Saur P229R, a thirteen shot semi automatic pistol that was both powerful and easy to conceal.
Frowning, John Maxim waited in vain for the agreed response to his signal then, deciding that perhaps his signal could have been missed, he repeated it a second time, relaxing when the hidden vehicle’s lights flashed once, then a second time five seconds later. He motioned to his squad to spread out, moving separately towards the rendezvous, still cautious as he walked up the road and into the little copse of trees.
Michael lowered the window as the soldier approached, watching the man suspiciously with his finger on the trigger of the SIG, ready to fire the instant the soldier made a wrong move.
John approached the darkened vehicle, aiming at the drivers side where he noted the window was open. As he closed within a couple of metres he said
“Nice morning for a stroll”
“Especially along the shore”
“Easy to get wet there”
The door opened and a tall slim bearded man wearing a baseball cap got out
“Get your guys into the back” he said with a soft drawl
“American?”
“Canadian. There’s two suitcases in the back, get your guys to change into the clothes that’s in them, then stuff your gear into them”
“Change? I thought you were just taking us to a safe house?”
“No, a safe boat, you’re going to be tourists on a charter boat for the day, sun and fishing soldier, a nice bit of relaxation for you”
“I don’t fish”
“Then try sunbathing”
With all of his team now on the bus the conversation died. All the SAS team changed into the clothes provided, and put their gear into the two empty suitcases, although they were reluctant to relinquish their weapons.
“Everything guys, I don’t move until it’s all stashed”
There was some muted grumbles at Michael’s instructions but they all did as asked and a couple of minutes later were all ready to go.
As the mini bus started up and moved off along the road John tried to restart the conversation with their driver
“Nice cap you’ve got, are Toronto Maple Leaves a baseball team?”
“Ice hockey”
The man hesitated for a moment, then removed the cap, handing it to John as his long hair fell around his shoulders
“I’ve got others so here, have a souvenir sergeant”
John took it, a little bemused
“Er, thanks”
“Your welcome, ah, here we are”
The mini-bus pulled to a halt near the end of a small jetty where a fishing boat was tied up, a single light shining through a cabin window
“There’s your ride guys, Max is expecting you”
“Your not coming?”
“Sorry, I’ve got a plane to catch and twelve hours in the air to return to Toronto, but don’t worry, Max is on the team and knows exactly what to do”
Michael watched the SAS squad move down the jetty and step aboard the fishing boat, then drove away. About a mile along the road he stopped to remove the false beard and moustache, then the long haired wig. After this he put on a pair of surgical gloves and checked the vehicle carefully to make sure no trace of his guests, or indeed himself, remained. Then he sprayed a special solvent onto a cloth and wiped down everywhere he had touched. 
When he had finished, and smiling broadly to himself,  he opened the fuel cap and poured the contents of a little bottle down into the tank, before walking swiftly away along the road.
Prepared by MI6, the contents of the little bottle started a chemical reaction in the fuel that would cause it to explode in some 15 to 20 minutes. Michael was cautious indeed, he did not like to take chances or risks, friendly nation or not, which was why he was heading now to a small motor boat just a ten minute walk away, after stopping to reclaim a briefcase that he had carefully hidden just a couple of hours earlier.

As the bright sun rose higher in the sky, it’s rays heating the deck around them, John and his squad took advantage of the few hours relaxation awarded them, finding various places to lay or sit, John grabbing an old chair and looking out across the sea, a baseball cap with the logo ‘Toronto Maple Leafs’ fixed firmly on his head.
Meanwhile a few miles away a submarine was making it’s way to Gibraltar carrying an extra passenger, whilst an abandoned motor boat drifted lazily off the coast of Gozo.