— Chapter Three —
Sheik Mohammed Del Alaz was terminally ill, he had been given only months to live. He lay in his private hospital room inside his palatial home in Riyadah, Saudi Arabia. He had the best care and facilities that his wealth could buy as money to him was certainly no object. His bodyguards and medical staff were never more than a few seconds away from his large well-equipped bedside.
From his death bed he could view all the treasures and holy relics from different cultures that he had amassed over the years, the collection, worth billions of dollars, had previously been housed in a large underground vault. Now he’d moved to where he could always view them, and displayed in his final accommodation and soon to be, mausoleum.
‘These would appease Allah and the prophet Mohammed, he’d always thought, as he looked around at the religious icons.
Only one relic however had eluded him, and cost the life of his closest advisor, and friend Abdul Bhunto. That was many years ago, but he had not forgotten what he had witnessed from the webcam and the newspaper clippings regarding Abduls demise, which still haunted him.
He’d kept up to date with the news media of the event, but due to his other business commitments at the time, followed by his illness and its slow and painful spread, he hadn’t found the time or energy to pursue his justice or exact his revenge.
Now he knew and accepted his demise, he could therefore focus on his last defiant act.
Mohammed looked around his treasure room and the empty case that he’d had built to house the relic he’d never obtained, with an enlarged photograph of Abdul placed in the space.
He stared at the photo and thought to himself. ‘Soon my old friend, I will see you. You died bravely on the quest with the infidels. You will be sitting at Allah’s right hand,” He prayed to himself
Mohammed’s pain grew, he self medicated a little morphine from the machine at his side and fell into a narcotic sleep. He was awoken moments later by somebody at his bedside, he gazed as an ectoplasmic figure took shape. It was Abdul, who appeared gaunt and ghostly with empty hands cupped as if something appeared to be missing. The apparition looked at Mohammed and then faded. Mohammed woke up in a cold sweat and let out a piercing scream, his bodyguards immediately rushed over to him. He calmed down after the doctors gave him another sedative and relaxed into a dreamless sleep.
Mohammed awoke pain free, alert, and irritated a few hours later and summoned, Mophi, his head of security.
Mophi was a giant, expressionless faced man from Iran. He had been ex-Iranian Special Forces and was now a mercenary and a ruthless bastard.
Mohammed typed instructions into a laptop computer on his bed table. Mophi entered and walked over to his bedside. He showed the bodyguard the pictures on the screen.
“Get the Ayatollah, Sons of Islam have been offended and slain, we need to get a fatwa, ruling, against these infidels.
****
Dawn broke over the arid, dry, plains of Las Vegas. The clanging of gates, loud heavy doors banging and the chatter, yelling of prisoners and guards, signalled another day at Clerk detention centre. The inmates’ all getting prepared for the breakfast line up.
A tall slim man stood alone, his looked weary as he waited in line for food. The stocky, shaven headed tattooed man who stood behind him shoved the man.
“Sorry professor” he mocked in a southern US accent. The man turned and stared at the large bully and then he faced forward as the server dolloped some scrambled eggs onto his plate. The tattooed man shoved again
“Do you intend to eat that?” he growled
“Yes I am” said the man in a high-brow southern English accent.
“You are getting brave professor,” said the lout
They both walked over to a large table and sat; the bully glowed at the slimmer man.
The Englishman picked up his plate and scraped the contents onto the bully’s, who smiled.
“That’s better” he growled and started to eat both breakfasts.
The Englishman got up and sauntered back to his cell. ‘I hate this place’ thought Julian Grimes ‘But it’s better than the alternative, I suppose’.
Grimes A.K.A John Crawford and also known in Las Vegas as the Duke of Southerby, had served six months of a seven year jail sentence for multiple gambling frauds he’d committed around Vegas. Grimes had returned to Vegas and set up another convoluted con against the man he had previously conned out of a fortune, Sheik Mohammed Del Alaz.
Grimes arrived in Vegas and had spent a few months settling in. He’d integrated himself into the high rolling scene at the casinos and acquired a nasty cocaine habit. He became sloppy and uncontrollable.
Funded by the Sheik, he lived far beyond his means and kept the Sheik continually paying for the fictional quest to discovery of the whereabouts of the missing Gnostic gospels of Judas Iscariot, which Grimes had claimed contained documented conversations between Judas and the Messiah and stating that the information within the gospels had been reputed to be mind blowing revelations about Judas being requested by Jesus to betray him to the Romans, thus completing his final act for god.
After several years of living the high-life, the Sheik and his advisors warned Grimes that they now wanted results. The Sheik threatened to cut off his funds for search and excavation, wine, women and song and give him a short deadline to produce some proof.
Grimes, becoming fearful that his ruse was about to be uncovered, flew to England and met with an old acquaintance. A Cambridge professor who specialised in translating early languages, and although Grimes had previously duped the professor, they formulated a plan to fool the stupid Sheik. Grimes then travelled to Beni Masah, in Eygpt, the site of the discovery of the original gospels and other scrolls found from the same period. These had been leather bound, Coptic papyrus and, after befriending a local official with a few bribes, he obtained an old batch of papyrus containing only a small piece of script, which had been considered of no historic value.
He returned to England where he and his colleague salabrased the text, to collect the small piece of the remaining ancient ink, and erase the text completely. This took weeks of effort with microscopic scraping, shaving and laser to achieve. Grimes colleague, Professor Daniel Farquarson, mixed the reconstituted ink with squid ink and used an ageing process that he’d pioneered. It took several weeks for the new ink formula to integrate and stabilise, and then he wrote a different set of words on the Coptic papyrus.
Grimes played roulette in the Riviera hotel’s casino. His mobile phone rang.
“Hi John” said the voice on the line from England using the name that he knew Grimes by.
“Hi Dan” said Grimes “Is it finished?”
“Certainly is” Daniel said breathing out a mock sigh of relief.
“Great” said Grimes “I will be on the first available flight to London.”
“See you soon” said Dan and hung up
Grimes lit a cigar, picked up his martini and put his arms around an escort girl who hovered nearby.
“Pick a number young lady and put $10000 on it, I’m on a roll.
The next day Grimes flew to Cairo and met his contact, Fayed. There was another man with him, a young tall Egyptian, who introduced himself as Tariq, the editor for the Sawi Al-Azhar the weekly independent newspaper. The three went to the Grand Hyatt hotel to a pre booked conference room. After approximately one hour, the editor and the contact departed.
Grimes exited ten minutes later, took a taxi to the Cairo international airport, and caught a British airways flight to London, Heathrow.
Grimes arrived in Cambridge during the early hours of the morning and, after hiring a car at the airport drove to Dan Farquarson’s house in Cambridge.
Dan invited him in, and then led him into the living room where he had a leather bound bundle of papyrus laid out on the table. Grimes took the pile of papyrus and whilst Dan made a pot of tea, he unfolded it to inspect Dan’s handy-work.
The writing seemed perfect, it appeared aged and faded and, although he couldn’t understand the text, he felt certain that Farquarson would have written something poignant.
Dan brought in the tea and while he poured it into bone china cups, Grimes enquired
“What have you written?”
“Oh, as you instructed, conversations between Judas and Jesus, with one in particular about the Messiah asking Judas to grass him up. That’ll cause a stink in Rome if it ever gets out” chuckled Dan.
After about an hour, Grimes got to his feet, thanked Farquarson and handed him $200.
He looked at Grimes and asked,
“Same as the last time, what can I do with dollars; don’t you at least have sterling? You promised me a lot more, £2000 to be precise. It took weeks of hard work. He protested.
“No” said Grimes becoming aggressive. “That’s all I got from my buyer, now take it or leave it”.
Reluctantly Dan took the money. Grimes left and got into his hire car smiling at the stupidity and weakness of Farquarson. Dan Farquarson watched from the window as Grimes pulled away. He smiled and spoke aloud
“Shame me once, then shame on you. Shame me twice, then shame on me”
He refreshed the teapot and fiddled with the mobile phone that he had taken from Grime’s jacket pocket that he’d hung in the hallway. He turned on the phone and started to browse the contacts.
Grimes did another bounce flight to Cairo airport a few days later and again met with Tariq and Fayed Tariq handed him a copy of a newspaper and Grimes handed them both a wad of cash. He then boarded a flight to King Khalid International airport, Saudi Arabia and taken to Mohammed’s palatial residence.
Mohamed apologised for rushing the search, but it had been many months since his search began and had so far cost the Sheik a small fortune, most of which had gone on the roulette wheels. Grimes did not mind, as his depleting money stock would soon be replenished. He convincingly deceived the Sheik about the search, recovery and, how he’d eventually managed to obtain possession of the lost gospels.
Grimes produced the leather bound pieces of papyrus and handed them to him.
The Sheik unravelled the roll and stared at the scripture.
“Excellent Julian” he exclaimed.
Grimes then gave the Sheik the newspaper that Tariq had given to him written in Arabic. The front page had a photograph taken inside a small cave with empty catacombs and a few small pieces of ancient papyrus scattered around the floor.
The article read:
A cave was found two days ago on the outskirts of the village of Minya Beni in the district of Mazar. The cave contained several empty catacombs. The evidence suggests from the remaining fragments of papyrus that these may have been the long rumoured parchments from the Gnostic gospels and scriptures of Judas Iscariot, the cave was almost empty, the Egyptian police believes this to be a recent plunder and following several leads.
“Excellent Julian” thrilled the Sheik and handed Grimes a suitcase containing a million dollars in cash.
The Sheik leaned back in his chair and spoke to Grimes
“Why don’t you take a well earned break? You can call me when we you have another acquisition”
There had been something about the Sheiks expression that worried Grimes.
Grimes never phoned the Sheik often and when he did it was either from somewhere on his Middle East visits or the United Kingdom, telling Mohammed that he had been doing research. Grimes, although always a meticulous con man who usually left no loose ends or trace now felt a little uneasy.
Several days later, as he had been again loosing at the roulette tables, a concierge from the Riviera came up to him.
“Sorry to disturb you, your grace, but there is a phone call for you”
“What?” said Grimes “Nobody knows I am here.”
Grimes went over to the reception desk and into a phone booth. He picked up the receiver and said.
“Hello”
“Hello Julian or maybe I should call you Duke Phillip, of Southerby” said a voice on the other end of the phone.
Grimes stammered and replied
“Hello Mohamed, what can I do for you?” still bemused as to how the Sheik had found.
“If you look outside your booth you will see a large Arabian gentleman”.
Grimes looked and sure enough stood at the side of a pillar in the plush hotel stood a giant Arab, glaring at him.
“That is my bodyguard, Mophi and he has been following you since you left my home.” Mohammed told him.
“Why?” said Grimes “you have the papyrus and the clipping from the newspaper”
“Oh yes, the fake clipping,” said Mohammed “The one written by the, late Tariq Fayed”
“Late” repeated Grimes, now terrified
“Nasty accident” said Mohammed “drowned in his pool” Mohammed continued. “As for the papyrus shall I tell you what it says should I? My translators deciphered the following: Baked beans in tomatoes sauce, Cheese, bread sliced etc. . . . Need I go on,” said the sheik “Oh” he added, remembering something else “as well as a shopping list there was also an item that my research team couldn’t understand, but a friend of yours from England, Dan, kindly pointed out that it was the instructions for using your mobile phone”
The Sheik then went silent to give Grimes time to respond.
Grimes responded and rushed out to where Mophi stood and told the giant, intimidating Arab that Mohammed needed to speak to him, urgently. Mophi went into the booth, picked up the phone, and spoke to the bewildered Mohammed, who knew Mophi had fallen for Grimes ploy and ordered him to find Grimes, who had rapidly scarpered onto the casino floor.
Mophi went onto the gamblers floor, but Grimes was nowhere to be seen. Mophi continued to search until he got a tap on his shoulder from two, in-house security guards.
Mophi was ordered to go with them to their office within the inner section of the Casino. He was led between the two burly security men into a big warehouse. The security men told him to sit down. Mophi glared at the two, smiled and struck the nearest guard in his throat with lightning speed, and before the other guard could react to the surprise attack Mophi struck him hard on the jaw-line knocking him unconscious.
He then went behind the choking man and sharply twisted his head and snapped his neck. He repeated the process with the unconscious guard and then calmly walked out through the casino and into the hot Vegas air. He then rang the Sheik for further instructions.
Grimes snook around Vegas for a few more months, until his money ran out. He didn’t care, he knew that he was a dead man walking, but figured that the Sheik would assume that he had bolted far from Vegas and search elsewhere. The Sheik had never cared about the money, which meant nothing to him, he’d sort of respected Grimes for being able to fool him for all those years, he liked this toffee nosed Englishman and he’d only sent Mophi to scare him and then return to Saudi, which had been accomplished at the cost of only two lives.
****
Grimes spent the next few months terrified and amassed a fortune in debt. He turned himself in and admitted to the police how he had conned nearly every casino in Vegas out of millions posing as an English Duke and selling non-existent plots of real estate and forged deeds to fake castles, and with his previous spending and elaborate cons, every casino gave him large credit facilities. Grimes wanted to be caught; he knew that the safest place for him would be prison.
He confessed to everything, even for crimes he hadn’t committed and sentenced to seven years in prison.
He had spent most of his life escaping justice and now wanted to be locked up.
He was arrested under his real name, John Crawford and detained in Clerk county detention centre.
Because of his arrogant nature and posh English accent, the other inmates targeted him and the guards hated the fact he had wasted and gambled away more money in two minutes that they could earn in a lifetime, so they turned a blind eye when he was bullied.
Grimes’s only ally was a friendly Arab in the next cell.
The Arab told Crawford that he had come to Vegas on holiday from his home in Egypt. Befriended some Egyptians who lived in Vegas who duped him into being a mule for supplying cocaine, the police caught him delivering what he’d thought were bibles to a local priest. Crawford spent many hours in conversation through his cell bars passing codes for just a general chin-wag, he found the Arab to be intelligent, articulate and his knowledge on forged artwork, Crawford had found fascinating and plausible. The only time they lost contact was when a new cell-mate arrived and intimidated Crawford and their conversations ceased. However, the new cell-mate was found dead in the shower block, his throat slit with a shank.
Crawford had just had his food stolen again and sat in his cell, staring into space. A prison guard came into his cell.
“Crawford” he barked, “Pack your gear you are being released.
“What?” said Crawford “but I am not due for parole for at least another three years.”
“I don’t know, said the guard “now do as you are told and pack your gear.”
Confused, he packed his meagre prison belongings and trudged to the release section and given his personal effects, although his clothes now smelt musty, it felt good to get out of prison fatigues and into a suit.
A deputy sheriff came over and along with the prison, guards checked Crawford out. A large gate opened and the deputy, along with Crawford walked outside. Crawford panicked, insisting that the deputy inform him of why he has been released early.
“You certainly have friends in high places” was all the deputy would say as they both got into a police car and drove off along the desert highway into Las Vegas.
The deputy pulled the squad car into the parking lot at the South district police station. He and Crawford went inside.
An embassy official stood in the waiting area. He introduced himself as a U.K attaché, Crawford was then informed by the man that he had been released due to an anonymous benefactor, who’d paid off all his debts.
Crawford became afraid.
“So what happens now?” he nervously asked
“You will deported to the U.K. Once we have all the paperwork” said the official “and I will be escorting you to the airport”
Crawford and the official left the police station after about thirty minutes. They got into a small saloon car and sped off towards Mc Carren airport.
About four kilometres before they reached the airport, the car pulled into a diner car park and the attaché said to Crawford
“We still have a few hours before the flight, so do you fancy a last taste of US cuisine at its finest?’ and chuckled.
“Ok” said Crawford, now a little edgy, as something about this man’s behaviour didn’t seem normal.
They sat in a booth and Crawford ordered a burger. The attaché excused himself and went to the washroom.
After tucking into his burger, savouring the flavour, the attaché returned and sat back down.
Grimes became aware of someone stood behind him
“Slight change of plan, Julian” said the man.
“Nobody has called me Julian for years,” He said anxiously, spitting out bits of burger.
“Maybe my friend’s employer has,” the man grinned as he pointed to the figure stood behind Grimes
Crawford spun around and looked up into the intimidating face of Mophi.
“Shall we go?” said the man posing as an attaché.
A dishevelled Crawford got off his seat, like a condemned man walking to his execution, and went outside.
Mophi took Grimes around the back of the diner, and got into a limo.
****
Sheik Mohammed Del Alaz hobbled around his large hospital room gazing at his treasures. The room was under a large golden dome, built on the top of his Mecca wing, a large building that faced S.S.W towards Mecca approximately 700kms away. The centre of the dome was in exact alignment with the centre of Mecca. The dome section and Mohammed’s private ward housing his treasures were impregnable
Within the vault there were housed 130 tempered glass cases, with all but one containing a religious icon or precious treasure.
The ceiling was adorned with paintings, murals and collages that had been artistically created by modern day artists, copied from the originals in Mohammed’s collection and transferred onto his special ceiling material. His temperature regulated air-conditioners and heating, kept his treasures in perfect condition, and filled the back of the dome into rows similar to library bookshelves, although with somewhat large items. He had electronically operated panels, which covered large highly tempered glass tinted planes to the front of the dome facing Mecca. Inside his private hospital ward also had a comfortable plush study area with sofa’s, desks and computers placed around his array of life preserving equipment, with another small piece of equipment that looked out of place and situated on a side wall.
Both internally and externally the dome was not only a work of art, but held a sinister secret item that Mohammed had included, which would ensure, that unlike the Egyptian pharaohs, who’d left their treasures to be pillaged and plundered. Mohammed had been adamant that this wasn’t going to happen to his.
Under the exterior of the gold plated dome, the ceiling was covered in Reinforced Carbon-carbon, RCC space shuttle tile material tiles, and a layer of laminated Graphite resin. This gray and lifeless material was then adorned with the fantastic paintings and murals, which appeared normal, except for the fact it could withstand temperatures exceeding 1260 C temperatures. Internally it had been reinforced with steel and concrete to ensure sure this building was a bunker. However it wasn’t designed to protect from any attack from the outside. This had been designed to protect the outside from events that would occur within.
Two small silver canisters, skilfully engraved to match in with the decor hung on the wall and blended in with the decor. However, these sinister containers were full of Tithium and deuterium gas, which, harmless on their own, but when mixed became a detonator for the fusion boosted fission bomb that Mohammed had installed into a small space under the floor underneath his hospital bed, a Russian layer cake, acquired from Saddam Hussein
The bombs kiloton yield had been calculated to destroy the room and turn his treasures into plasma, which would encase the room, making everything unsalvageable. The room would remain radioactive for several years, so Mohammed’s legacy to the mortal world would be. . . . Nothing.
A doctor came into the room, Mohammed returned to his bed and reconnected his machine leads and assured the doctor he felt fine, the doctor adjusted some of the equipment, took some readings and left. Mohammed reached for a remote control. A solid panel on the side of the dome slid open to reveal a window that overlooked the city. Mohammed watched and waited.
The dome glistened with gold leaf and golden Islamic crescents, except for a shimmering darkened window. It was an impressive sight to behold especially from the sky, as the occupants of an executive bell jet Ranger helicopter witnessed as the helicopter banked and landed on the helicopter pad of the Mecca wing. Three occupants got out and went into the large building, through a series of corridors and a thick electronic sliding door, and into the dome.
Mohammed sat on a large armchair behind a large wooden desk at a computer.
“Sit down gentlemen” he beckoned.
He pushed a button under his desk and a few seconds later an Arab entered with a briefcase. He handed it to one man, who opened it and counted the cash content. The bogus attaché smiled and left the room.
Mohammed then turned his attention to the remaining individuals.
“Everything went according to plan?” He asked Mophi
“Yes sir,” replied Mophi grinning
He then stared into the eyes of Grimes, who appeared gaunt, feeble and afraid.
“Hello again Julian, you’ve been a naughty man”
Julian looked at the pale, death riddled Arab and croakily whispered
“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”
“Kill you,” said Mohammed “My friend if I wanted you dead I would have done that a long time ago” He nodded to Mophi
“No” said Mohammed “I need your help, and because of your meticulous sense of planning it would be an easy task for you”
Mohammed tapped on a keypad and images flashed up onto a screen.
Mohammed gave details about his ghostly encounter with Abdul to now relieved Grimes. He gave him an envelope, and along with the information on the screen Grimes studied the images and the information. The Sheik became tired and said they would continue the conversation the following day.
“Just remember, Julian,” said Mohammed to the now reinvigorated Julian Grimes. “You have to find a way to carry out all my orders” he tapped his finger on a printed newspaper clipping to reaffirm Grimes was paying attention. “Oh and to make sure that this time you carry out my commands, Mophi will be coming with you”
Grimes nervously looked at the large expressionless Arab and turned to face Mohammed.
“I’ll work on this straight away,” said Grimes
“You have all the resources you require at your deposal, spare no expense, just get it done,” said the Sheik “I also have another surprise for you.”
Mohammed pressed the button again and a person familiar to Grimes walked into the room carrying a small pewter box.
“Hello Julian” said the new arrival
“Akhim!” exclaimed Grimes, startled as he faced the Arab convict who he had befriended in Jail.
Mohammed then spoke.
“I not only didn’t have you murdered, I had you protected at all times . . . and I will have you killed if you fail me.” Weary, Mohamed made his way to his bed and Doctors came scurrying to his aid
Akhim gave Julian the box and all three departed the domed room and went to their respective living quarters.
Grimes sat behind a large desk in his quarters and placed out all the contents of a large envelope that Mohammed had given him that contained photographs, newspaper clippings and batches of information gathered throughout the years. He shuffled the papers into some kind of order then turned his attention to the pewter box given to him by Akhim. He opened the box and stared at the wide powder within.
He removed a plastic card and a three-inch thin straw from the container, spooned out a portion of the contents, formed two straight lines then bent down and snorted the powder. His nasal septum burned for a second as he sniffed the cocaine further into his nose, he leant back into the chair and thought about this strange day.
‘This morning I had been in Jail fearing for my life and now I am in a billionaires quarters, snorting great cocaine, with servants running around after my every whim, just because the mad Sheik had a bad trip on Morphine and thought he’d seen his dead friend and now he wants to give me twenty million dollars to obtain a small box and have a few people killed. I will leave the killing to the big dope, Mophi. This should not be too difficult.’
The cocaine started to make its presence felt, he again stared at the papers on the desk.
‘Akhim must have been brought into help’ he thought “Our chats had been about planning and scheming and his knowledge as a forger was unparallel, he must be an expert if he is employed by the Sheik’
“Welcome back, Professor Julian Grimes.” He said aloud.
Crawford lay back in the chair and, as the cocaine took hold he pondered some more.