Shooting Eros - The Emuna Chronicles: Complete Boxset: Books 1 - 3

by Benjamin Laskin

  “Sam tells me that you have had a short-but-colorful past,” Jed Baer said, scooping up some salsa onto a chip.

  “I’m sure it pales compared to yours,” Cyrus replied affably.

  “Cyrus has been a pretty good boy since he’s been with us,” Sara said. “He works all the time and we barely know he’s around.”

  “What kind of work?” Baer asked.

  “Construction,” Cyrus answered.

  “Cyrus is modest,” Sam said. “He’s basically in charge of the site now. He went from day laborer to team manager in about two weeks.”

  “Impressive,” Baer said. “Is that what you studied in college?”

  “I never went to college. I’m self-taught.”

  “Don’t you need some sort of license to do what you’re doing?”

  “My position is unofficial. How about you, Jed? How did you go from Special Forces to law enforcement advisor?”

  “It wasn’t much of a leap, really,” he said. “My specialty was intelligence gathering. You’re pretty good at that yourself—intelligence, I mean—from what I’ve heard.”

  “We told Jed about your gifted memory,” Sara clarified.

  “How about a demonstration?” Jed asked.

  Cyrus passed with a self-deprecating wave of his hand. “It’s nothing, really. A useless and mostly comical knack for trivia, that’s all.”

  “Told ya,” Sam said. “Modest.”

  “A humble man is a rare find in this age of pretentious blowhards,” Baer said.

  “It sounds like you speak from experience.”

  Cyrus had had time to review Jed Baer’s record more thoroughly since they first shook hands. For a man of thirty-three, he had had quite a distinguished career. He was an advisor for the police department now, but that was a big step down from his previous jobs at the Secret Service, the CIA, and the NPF State Department. All of that was interesting, but what most intrigued Cyrus were Baer’s relationships; especially the one that put him at only one degree of separation from Professor Chauncey Matterson.

  “Experience some,” Baer said, “but it doesn’t take a whole lot of experience to recognize incompetence when you see it. Unfortunately, too few of the general public are paying attention. They have eyes to see but do not see; ears to hear but do not hear.”

  “That would be Ezekiel 12:2,” Cyrus said.

  “So, that’s where that comes from,” Baer said. He grinned mischievously and pitched another quotation. “‘You have seen many things, but you do not observe them; your ears are open, but none hears.’”

  “Isaiah 42:20,” Cyrus said, reaching for a chip.

  Baer nodded, impressed. “Yep, well, not much has changed since those venerable days of yore, eh? We have the same blind and deaf today. Look around at all that passes for leadership or expertise. Our government officials, academics, and most so-called journalists today, they are indistinguishable from one another anymore. They are all connected at the hip pocket and walk in lockstep.”

  “Would that include Professor Chauncey Matterson?”

  Jed Baer blinked, something he rarely did when caught by surprise, but Cyrus’s question had smacked into his pitcher’s mitt like a blazing line drive.

  “A matter of fact it would, but how would you—?”

  Sara and Sam exchanged intrigued glances. They were already stunned by the two men’s Biblical exchange. Political correctness in the NPF had deemed that the Bible was not considered a topic of polite conversation, and Sara and Sam certainly never expected Jed Baer to know such things.

  “I saw your face in a picture on the wall of his office,” Cyrus explained.

  “You don’t say?”

  “It was a group shot. Some suits and ties and Hollywood stars, and a couple of Arab sheiks. You were standing off to the side. But I’m pretty sure that it was you.”

  “You have a very sharp eye,” Baer said.

  “Is Professor Matterson a friend of yours?” Cyrus asked.

  “An acquaintance from a previous life, you might say.”

  “Your life at the CIA or at the State Department?”

  “State,” Baer admitted cautiously. “But I’m curious how you could possibly know such things about me?”

  Cyrus shrugged. “Maybe I saw you mentioned in a newspaper once upon a time.”

  “I rather doubt that,” Jed Baer said, taking a sip of his beer. “My job was not something that would get much print, if you know what I mean.”

  “So are you still in touch with Professor Matterson?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “As I mentioned, not long ago I was in his office, and I’m afraid I didn’t leave a good impression. Having found me a suspicious character, the professor threatened me, saying he had friends in high places, if you know what I mean.”

  “You believe the two of us meeting is not a coincidence?”

  “There are no coincidences,” Cyrus said confidently.

  “So I’m here to spy on you?”

  “Maybe you are. Or,” Cyrus added cryptically, “maybe you’re here for reasons you can’t yet know.”

  “You speak as though you know.”

  “I don’t. It is only in hindsight that we can grasp the significance of such things.”

  “Well,” Baer said, “I agree with you on both accounts. My line of work has taught me the same—that there are no coincidences. You have the makings of a good soldier, friend.”

  Cyrus grinned and adjusted his cap. “Maybe I was, like you, in a previous life.”

  “It’s not fair that you know so much more about me than I do of you,” Baer said.

  “I’m sure you’ll do your best to remedy that.”

  Jed Baer turned to Sara. “You were right, I do like him. He reminds me of—”

  “You?” Sara interjected, a twinkle in her eye.

  “Hey,” Baer said, “don’t be casting aspersions on our friend.”

  “Seriously,” Sara said. “Something is screwy with you guys. You’re both smart, talented, hunky handsome, and single. What’s up with that? Why aren’t you married, Jed? Need some introductions? I know some nice women.”

  “A lot of people don’t marry these days, or do so later and later,” Baer said. “I’m not saying it’s good or right, but these are the times we live in. Besides, why are you looking at me? What about Cyrus here?”

  “Cyrus has more of an excuse,” Sara said. “He has amnesia and is weirder than you. Nothing personal, Cyrus,” she was quick to add, “but you are a tad on the quirky side.”

  Cyrus smiled and nodded in surrender.

  “I don’t know,” Baer said. “He seems okay to me. I know a lot of people a hell of a lot weirder than Cyrus here who were able to land a lady.”

  “So, what’s your problem?” Sara asked again. “Too picky?”

  “Sara,” Sam warned, “guys don’t like talking about such stuff with women, okay?”

  “I’m one of the boys, aren’t I?”

  Sam laughed. “When it’s convenient for you, like now. When it isn’t, watch out.”

  “Careful, buster,” she rejoined.

  Sam smirked. “Thanks for proving my point, Dear.”

  “So, Jed,” Sara pressed. “Don’t go weasel on me. Admit it, you’re still single because you didn’t think any gal was good enough for you. That’s okay. Maybe you’re right. Or maybe you’re just stuck up.”

  “Ouch, Honey,” Sam said. “That’s harsh.”

  “Oh, he knows I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just being honest. He’s man enough to take it, aren’t you, Jed?”

  “Hey, quit picking on me,” Baer groused jokingly. “Maybe cupid lost my address, okay? Give me a break. Besides, I’ve been busy. It’s not like there have been a lot of women on my unpopular path, you know? I went from high school to the Marines, and I missed out on that pool of college coeds. Instead, I spent most of my adult life hunkered down in slop or sand with stinky, tattooed macho men with nicknames like Fang Buster. And t
rust me, none of them wanted to introduce me to their sisters.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” Sara said.

  “I don’t know,” Cyrus said. “Gideon might have a point. It’s possible that cupid really did lose his address.”

  Sam and Sara looked questioningly at Cyrus, uncertain if they had just heard him correctly.

  Baer’s look was much more scrutinizing. “How do you know my real name?”

  Cyrus said, “You were born, Gideon, or in Hebrew, Gid’on. Does anyone call you by either of those names?”

  “No…” he replied hesitantly, “not since my grandfather died—may he rest in peace. He was old country.”

  “By ‘old country’ you mean the home of your great-great-great-grandfather who was from a shtetl outside of Kiev. The shtetl disappeared in a pogrom in 1905.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Baer said, his eyes narrowed. “How could you possibly know such a thing?”

  Sam said, “Don’t torture yourself, Jed, or whoever you are…the guy is a walking Wikipedia.”

  “Do you mind if I call you Gideon?” Cyrus asked.

  “Suit yourself, but why?”

  “It’s a proud name, as you know.”

  “Gideon was the son of Joash,” Baer replied in recitation, “from the tribe of Manasseh, one of the two sons of Joseph. The name means ‘destroyer,’ ‘mighty warrior,’ or ‘feller of trees.’ He judged over the Israelites after the prophetess Devorah. God chose Gideon to free the Israelites from the Midianites and Amalekites. He gathered thousands of warriors to take on the oppressors, but God insisted that he cull from them just three hundred so that it would be known that the battle would be won not by force of numbers, but by God’s might. His story is recorded in chapters six through eight of the Book of Judges in the Bible. Yeah, I know all about him. My grandfather made sure of that.”

  Sam and Sara exchanged curious glances, but said nothing.

  Cyrus nodded knowingly and said, “When you were a small child, your grandfather would stick a lollipop in your mouth, mount you on his knee, and read to you from the Bible. You would unconsciously play with his thick beard while he read to you.”

  “How cute!” Sara said.

  “When you grew to be too big for his knee,” Cyrus continued, “your parents became concerned—fretful, really—that you might become religious. They all but forbade you from spending so much time with him. But you loved your grandfather dearly, and you knew how much your studies and time together meant to him. So, you rode your bicycle to his home nearly every afternoon after school, whereupon you sat with him for hours at his kitchen table. You told your parents that you were hanging out with the other kids.

  “Having graduated from lollipops,” Cyrus continued, “he’d plug a Tootsie Pop into your mouth instead, cherry being your favorite. Together the two of you would pour over Torah and Tanach, and eventually Talmud.

  “This continued until your grandfather of blessed memory was killed in a hit-and-run when you were seventeen. It was the saddest day of your life. The following year you joined the Marines. You keep all your grandfather’s books in your library and still regularly open them.”

  “What’s going on here?” Baer demanded, angrier than amazed.

  “Is it true?” Sara asked.

  “Every word of it,” Baer answered evenly, his eyes fixed on the stranger’s.

  “Wow,” Sam said.

  Sara said, “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

  Gideon Baer nodded, bringing a mist to his eyes. “He was everything to me. A heart of gold, and smarter and wiser, stronger and kinder than any man I’ve ever known.”

  “A tzaddik,” Cyrus affirmed.

  “A what?” Sara said.

  “A righteous man.”

  Gideon turned his eyes on Cyrus. “How could you possibly know such things? I never spoke of him to anyone. And like you said, even my own parents didn’t know how much time I spent with him. And the candy, that was our own little secret.”

  Cyrus shrugged. “I only mention it because your name carries with it divine significance. As you know well, names in the Bible have meaning and power. You in particular should wear your name proudly.”

  “I didn’t choose to be called Jed. People just called me that from an early age. I don’t know why. I never gave it any thought at the time. I’m not ashamed of anything.”

  “Good.”

  “But you are avoiding my question. How do you know all of this?”

  “There is only one explanation, isn’t there?” Cyrus said. “God showed it to me.”

  The words hung in the air. No one was sure what to do with the bold assertion.

  Finally, Gideon asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm, “Does the Almighty, the Creator of the universe, the Master of All, the King of kings, the Molder of Primeval Creation, speak to you?”

  “No,” Cyrus answered. “The knowledge is in my head, a priori, so to speak, and I’m suggesting that the only way it could have gotten there is through the will of God.”

  “Why you?” Gideon said.

  “I don’t know,” Cyrus said. “You asked and I told you what I thought. Why make this about me? Did I ask to meet you? This is not about me. It’s about you. It’s about your past and your future. You figure it out.”

  Gideon turned questioningly to Sam and Sara, who shrugged.

  “Don’t look at me,” Sam said. “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” Baer said, regaining his composure, his eyes locked on Cyrus’s, “but I’m going to find out.”

  “Good,” Cyrus said, neither worried nor intimidated. “I hope you do. Perhaps in doing so, you’ll learn the answer to your life’s biggest question.”

  “And what would that be?” Gideon said, lifting his beer to his lips, playing along.

  “The real reason you followed the path that you are on.”

  Gideon put down his glass before taking his sip and squinted at Cyrus. “What do you know about that?”

  “I know that your suspicions are true.”

  “You know who killed my grandfather?” Gideon demanded.

  “I said your suspicions are correct. It was not an accident. He was murdered.”

  “But how? Why? What did he ever do to make him a target of a hit job? He was a simple and righteous man. A threat to no one!”

  “True, true,” Cyrus said. “He was just as you say.”

  “Then why?”

  “I think your hunch is as good as mine.”

  “My hunch?” Gideon said. “Do you know what my ‘hunch’ is?”

  “It’s the same one that I’d have reached with the knowledge that you have.”

  “But I’m wrong, is that it?”

  “No, I’m saying that from what I do know, it’s not nearly as far-fetched as you often wonder it to be.”

  “Do you know who was driving that car that ran down my grandfather?”

  “He’s long gone, Gideon. He was taken out shortly afterwards by those who had ordered the hit. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  Baer nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on Cyrus’s. A heavy silence descended about the table.

  Gideon said, “Whose side are you on here, friend?”

  “Yours,” Cyrus answered. “Because if you are right, not much else in this world is going to matter, is it now…friend?”

  Sam and Sara exchanged wide-eyed, speechless glances. Officer Jeffreys cleared his throat, picked up a menu and said, “Um, I recommend the chimichangas…”

  11

  Shalom Aleichem

  I clicked the stopwatch as Virgil sprinted past me and then slowed to a walk.

  “Well?” he panted, walking back towards me.

  “Two minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

  “Beat’cha!” he exclaimed.

  “Yeah, well before you get too cocky, know that Captain Volk can do this course in under sixty seconds.”

  “No way! … Really?”
r />   “I saw it with my own eyes.”

  Virgil joined me and we strolled over to the shade of a large pine tree and sat down using the trunk as a backrest.

  “Man, that’s amazing,” Virgil said, unable to get over the distance that separated us from Captain Volk. “I guess I’m still little more than a scrub rookie.”

  “No, Virge. You’ve come a long way very fast. You’ve accomplished in months what took me years.”

  “I’m no where near your level, Kohai.”

  “You will be soon enough. You should be very proud of yourself.”

  “I’ve had a good teacher,” Virgil said, patting my shoulder.

  “To be honest,” I confessed, “I don’t know why the captains chose me over you in the first place. You catch on to things so much quicker than I ever did.”

  “They knew what they were doing,” Virgil assured me. “Look, maybe I am a little more athletic than you are, but even in this respect you have advanced far beyond the best cadets over at the Academy. They’d never know it, but you would kick their asses, Kohai. Besides, in other matters, I don’t hold a candle to you. There is no way I could have come up with the stuff that you have. Figuring a way to communicate with Captain Cyrus, that was darn clever. But working out how to use his sweat to create those whirlwinds, that’s big league. That’s archangel territory, Kohai.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you having retrieved Captain Cyrus’s records and those papers on the Q-dusha marker.”

  “Heck, Kohai, you didn’t need me to run that puny errand. You could have done it yourself. How you put two and two together and came up with five, that’s something I’ll never attain. How did you do it, anyway?”

  “It wasn’t that big a deal,” I said. “When examining the Academy’s research, I noticed a major flaw in one of their premises. Yes, Q-dusha is a marker for emuna, but emuna is not material, as Academy scientists naturally presume. It’s spiritual, something the Academy rejects out right. Understanding that emuna is spiritual energy and not material, I concluded that I ought to keep my tests on the crystals to those of a metaphysical nature, incorporating prayer, meditation, and internal energy, ruach. I got an immediate response from the crystals, managing to make them glow.