Ark of Fire Read Online Free PDF

recent years private security firms had become the mercenary might behind the U.S. military; tens of thousands of private fighters had been hired in Iraq alone. With his top-level Pentagon contacts, he was soon making money hand over balled fist. Made up of entirely of former special-ops soldiers, Rosemont numbered twenty thousand strong. As leader of this well-armed flock, Stan had made certain that there wasn’t a pluralist or atheist or agnostic among them. Holy warriors, each and every one.
    “Sir, what do you want me to do about the woman?”
    MacFarlane glanced at his subordinate; the former gunnery sergeant was a member of his handpicked Praetorian Guard. This elite team, which served as his eyes and ears in the nation’s capital, was embedded in law enforcement agencies all over the city. Contemplating how best to clean up the mess, he opened the satchel that had been retrieved from the museum and removed a leather wallet. For several seconds he stared at the driver’s-license photo of a thirty-seven-year-old curly-haired woman.
    “You heard the gunny . . . what shall we do with you, Eloise Darlene Miller?” he contemplatively murmured.
    A quick background check uncovered the fact that the Miller woman had been arrested in 1991 for protesting the first Gulf War. In his book, that made her a Chardonnay-sipping left-wing tree hugger. Like the bastards who’d derailed his military career.
    Nothing like a “terrible swift sword” to keep an unruly woman in her place.
    “Any word on the whereabouts of”—Stan glanced at the name scrawled on a sheet of paper—“Caedmon Aisquith?” A similar background check had turned up a noticeable dearth of information, prompting Stan to order his intelligence team to dig deeper.
    “Aisquith managed to slip out of the bookstore undetected. We’re keeping a close watch on his hotel, but he’s yet to show up,” the gunnery sergeant informed him.
    “Hmm.” Stan MacFarlane contemplatively rolled the silver ring that he wore on his right hand, the intertwined crosses worn smooth over the years. “This man Aisquith is another loose end we can’t afford to let dangle.”
    “I hear ya, Colonel.”
    “Then hear this.” Stanford MacFarlane looked his subordinate straight in the eye so there would be no misunderstanding. “You will search. You will find. And you will destroy.”
    The order clearly to his liking, the gunnery sergeant smiled. “By day’s end, sir.”

CHAPTER 6
    Feeling like she’d gone fifteen rounds with a heavyweight champ, Edie Miller dragged herself out of the cab. From her skirt pocket she removed a crumpled ten-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. If the dark-skinned man with the turban thought it odd that she’d made him pull into the alley behind her Adams Morgan row house rather than dropping her at the front curb, he gave no indication.
    Relieved to be back on familiar terrain, Edie raised a weary hand, letting the cabbie know that no change was necessary. Small recompense for whisking her to safety; the driver of the plum-colored cab had been a godsend. Her Mini Cooper, her purse, and her keys had all been left behind at the museum. But she’d gotten out with her life and the digital camera she’d stuffed in her vest pocket right before Jonathan Padgham had been killed. And that’s all that mattered.
    What a nightmare, she thought, still in a daze. What a surreal, unbelievable nightmare. The cops were actually in on the murder. Moreover, she had no idea how many people were involved in the gang that had stolen the ancient breastplate. All she knew was that they had no inhibitions about resorting to murder to achieve their objectives. And right now their objective was to “get things tidied up.”
    Shuddering, she bent down and lifted a long-dead chrysanthemum out of a clay pot. Holding it by the stem, she shook a silver key out of the clump of brown peat moss. With a quick backward glance, she scurried up the patio steps. Unlocking