[Mike Hammer 14] - The Goliath Bone

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[Mike Hammer 14] - The Goliath Bone Page 5

by Mickey Spillane; Max Alan Collins


  Charlene's eyes were on me. Everybody's eyes were on me—I'd trumped Goliath with my little speech.

  The beautiful scientist said, "This artifact can do more to set nation against nation than planes flying into buildings, anthrax scares, and intercontinental wars can accomplish."

  "It's only a bone," I reminded her. "It's been buried up until now."

  "Just the point," she said. "From out of nowhere, appearing through the mists of time ... it has emerged."

  That might have sounded silly to me if I hadn't been gaping at a femur twice the size of a normal man's.

  "Emerged from the mists," Velda's voice echoed, soft, almost prayerful, "like a sign..."

  "Sure," Pat said. "But of what?"

  I said to the two doctors, "Tell me ... this bone has to be authenticated, right?"

  They nodded as one.

  "How?" I asked.

  George Hurley said, "First we check it for age, with the carbon-dating process. Relatively speaking, this should not be difficult. Unlike dinosaurs, for instance, this specimen is relatively recent. Of course we'll X-ray it and identify it as a bone, a human bone."

  Charlene Hurley picked up the thread. "Generally we would say the size was due to a condition called acromegaly, a disorder where a person never stops growing. You have seen this in circus giants, for instance. Their death usually occurs at an early age."

  "Rondo Hatton in the horror movies," I said. The two kids were gawking at me. "Before your time ... and this bone here doesn't smack of what Rondo had?"

  George Hurley shook his head. "It has all the earmarks of being a natural formation that had fulfilled its growth. If the muscular development equaled that of the bone, in life this person would have been very remarkable. I could well see how he would terrify even an entire army."

  I couldn't stop the smirk. "Just one guy?"

  Charlene Hurley said, "Put him in great and elaborate armor, give him a spear whose wooden shaft was like the beam of a loom, and the blade the size of an anchor on a thirty-five—foot powerboat ... then see what you've got."

  "I didn't know science used metaphors to make their case."

  "The Bible gives an even better description," her husband said.

  They were making me dig back into Sunday-school days again. "Didn't the Israelites have archers and spear throwers?"

  Charlene shrugged. "Nothing would have penetrated the body armor on this giant. He could walk into an opposing army like Patton with his tanks, and behind him was his own multitude of bloodthirsty Philistines as eager to kill as the Nazis behind Hitler."

  "And little David's little rock did him in."

  The lady doctor smiled gently. "So the Good Book says."

  Metaphors and Scripture. Not what I expected in a research lab. "So what else does the bone show scientifically?"

  "Very little," she admitted, "but it apparently had lain these many years in a dirt formation that acted as a preservative, completely coated and sealed with a mud that had unusual properties halting disintegration of bone material. The flesh and sinew around it went back to dust, naturally, but the bone itself? That remained inexplicably intact."

  "How unusual is that?" I asked her.

  But her husband responded. "Not that unusual at all. Natural mummification has been seen quite often. The old wrapped bodies in the Andes, for instance. The body of the iceman found nearly intact after thousands of years." He stopped suddenly and squinted at me. "Am I boring you, Mr. Hammer?"

  "Absolutely not," I said. "You've painted a vivid picture."

  At my side, Velda said, "Someone needs to paint a picture of the ramifications of this ... thing."

  She was pointing at the huge bone with an accusatory finger. She alone seemed to find it, in some fashion, repellent.

  George Hurley nodded solemnly. "Your associate, Ms. Sterling, is right, Mike. This find opens up a Pandora's box of political and religious conflict. We are dealing with factions here that include zealots of the most dangerous kind."

  I grinned at him. "Philistines, doc?"

  He managed a smile. "An outdated term, but the factions I refer to include those descended from Goliath's, shall we say, home team. Unfortunately, their progression into the lifestyle of modern civilization has often been stymied by a refusal of some to adjust and adapt their cultures to the modern world. Some still live in caves or primitive quarters. Some exhibit social codes that put our teeth on edge."

  "If I said that, doc," I said, "in my own inelegant way, I'd get branded a bigot."

  This time Charlene Hurley responded. "In our profession, we don't condemn the faiths of others. We are scientists who study the past. But as people? As Americans? We can make certain observations that I don't believe are ethnocentric. Consider offshoots of their societies that practice female circumcision—a horrible, brutal surgery that prevents a woman from experiencing the pleasure of sex. Generally it is done with no antiseptic methods and under no anesthesia. Other places completely subdue their women like bagged potatoes, in head-to-foot wrappings with no privileges outside of serving their husbands in whatever they demand."

  I gave Velda a sideways glance. "I want a girl just like the girl...?"

  Velda said, "It's not funny, Mike."

  "No. It isn't." But some people laugh so they don't cry. Me, I laugh so I don't tear the head off some sick son of a bitch.

  Charlene added, "There are many millions of women caught in that trap."

  I gestured to the off-white chunk of history on the metal table. "Hey, I'll be glad to vote against all that. But what does Goliath have to do with it?"

  For a few seconds, nobody said a word.

  Then George Hurley said, "The Arab world has had many heroes throughout their history, from Mohammed on. But of late, the only visible heroes the Arab world has had are Bin Laden, Arafat, and Saddam. They had charisma, financing, and some kind of satanic desperation that got them followers who thought death bought them a free pass to heaven."

  "Where does our freshly-dug-up bone come in, then?"

  His shrug was casual, but his unblinking eyes were not. "This could be their symbol, perhaps. Their Liberty Bell. Their Alamo."

  I had to laugh. "This old paddy-whack bone?"

  "Yes," he said firmly. "Proof of a great hero of their supposed forefathers."

  "Hell," I said, "the bozo got clouted by a rock and died! Little David cut his head off to boot."

  "Nonetheless," he said, "Goliath was their hero, and heroes never die. He was over ten feet tall. He scared the opposing army into immobility."

  I shook my head. "I think you've got it wrong."

  George Hurley had the expression of a clubbed baby seal. This doc and his wife had spilled more education than I ever had. And here I was doubting them. Out loud.

  I nodded toward the big bone. "That's a symbol, all right. It's a symbol of Israeli strength and power. If anybody's going to want to carve that into a Liberty Bell, it's our Jewish pals."

  Charlene Hurley's eyes had tightened. She was looking at the ancient artifact with something no longer clinical. Respect, maybe.

  "But, doc, you're right as far as it goes—the Arab world would love to get their paws on this puppy. To destroy it. It's an embarrassment to them. They'll want to keep it out of Israel's hands."

  Pat grunted. "Mike Hammer, Authority on the Middle East. I'll be sure to book you on Fox News."

  Velda said to the scientists, "You can't confirm through your tests and research that this was Goliath. It's not like you have his DNA on file."

  "True," George Hurley said. "But the circumstantial evidence already appears overwhelming."

  "But there's no possibility of saying for a historic, scientific certainty that this was Goliath's thighbone."

  "No," Hurley admitted.

  "Nuts," I said. "Once a religious authority proclaims this as Goliath's bone, then it'll be Goliath's bone. And the game will be on. Hell, it already is."

  Nobody said a word. They all wore the same
noncommittal expressions, seeming to examine me through an invisible microscope. I flashed a glance at Matthew and Jenna and they were both looking at me in the same curious way.

  Deciphering their silent faces wasn't too hard, but I was going to let them tell me what they wanted themselves.

  Finally, George Hurley said, "I believe I see why Matthew and Jenna need your help—they'll definitely need protection."

  "That's why they came to me," I said with a shrug.

  "Yes," the father agreed. "But this is far from a normal bodyguard situation. Right now the circumstances are extremely ... hostile."

  "Hostility's a part of every bodyguard assignment, doc. Interesting root word, don't you think, hostile? It applies to highly aggressive actions. Actually, warlike actions."

  Pat muttered, "Warlike actions like flying a loaded passenger plane into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, you mean?"

  "Yeah. That kind of warlike."

  George Hurley's eyes drifted to the great femur laying exposed on the table. "You're saying everybody in the Arab world, in particular Israel, is going to want to claim this."

  "Or take it." I let out a half-laugh. "Of course, they'd have to get it first, and I'm thinking security is pretty tight around this joint."

  George Hurley merely nodded, but that nod had the confidence of Fort Knox in it.

  "First thing I'll suggest," I said, "is you don't let the government in on this secret."

  "Mike," Hurley said, "the government backs our research through the university, and—"

  "Swell, only I don't give a damn. They have bums up there who would leak it out in a minute to corner a few extra votes. If that granddaddy of all bones ever came under government protection, it'd go the same way the atomic-bomb secrets did."

  Velda asked them, "How many people in the university know about the Goliath bone?"

  "A good number are aware," George Hurley said, "that we're looking at a potentially important ancient artifact. That kind of word travels fast on a campus."

  "But," his wife put in, "that's as far as it goes. The name 'Goliath' has, to the best of my knowledge, not been breathed by anyone outside this room."

  Jenna spoke for the first time since the unveiling. "Except in Israel. Some people back there must know."

  I nodded to the girl. "And there was that student friend of yours who helped ship that artifact home to start with."

  She answered me with a thoughtful nod, too. "But she never knew what was in the package she was carrying for us."

  "That driver who saw the bone before you got it out of there," I said, "he was killed soon after, remember?"

  Matthew said, "Yeah, but he must have talked to somebody. That has to be what got him killed. Any kind of a major archeological find from that area could easily be worth a person's life."

  "Which may explain," I said to the kids, "why a gun-wielding Arab terrorist tried to nab that package last night. Like I said, the hunt is already on." I turned to the parents. "Do you think trained agents could get in here?"

  George Hurley shook his head. "Only five of us have access to this room—Charlene and myself and the kids, plus our assistant, Bryan."

  Their blue-smocked associate was working at his desk at the other end of the room.

  Charlene was saying, "All areas leading to this lab are covered by armed guards. Total security reaches to the front door. People entering here are photographed four separate times by remote TV units."

  I frowned. "Why so much artillery and spook gear? What is it you do here, anyway?"

  George Hurley said, "We can't discuss that, Mike. Let me say this: The federal government demands this level of security ... and provides it. In our custody are many pieces of information we have uncovered that the government wants to keep totally secret."

  "Nobody swore me to secrecy," I put in.

  When George Hurley smiled, I knew what he was going to say. "Whether you like it or not, Mr. Hammer, from this minute on you will be carefully monitored."

  I smiled back. "Then that makes me one of the inner circle, doesn't it?"

  "In a sense, Mike. In a sense."

  Pat got into it. "We were told that you both were in Israel doing research on the Dead Sea Scrolls. Can I ask why?"

  George Hurley fielded the query. "It is a subject we're keenly interested in, Captain. To date we've published three books on the subject—not bestsellers, but respected works used extensively by students in the early stages of researching the subject."

  "You both speak Hebrew?"

  Charlene Hurley nodded and said, "Aramaic, too."

  "Plus several other languages," George Hurley added.

  "Are you well known in Israel?"

  This time both nodded. "In academic circles we are," George said, having to work to sound modest. "My wife is Jewish, and spent some time in a kibbutz just out of college. So she feels very much at home in Israel. I'm a lapsed Catholic, by the way—we're a two-person ecumenical council."

  Charlene added, "Just in case you're wondering, Captain, we're not politically motivated in the least. We have the same interest in current events as the next person, but we are more interested in the politics, the civilizations, of the past."

  I said, "For a lot of countries over there, the past and the present are one and the same. To us they can seem pretty damn pathetic with their dress codes and bird's-nest beards and the crummy way they treat the female gender, but they don't come tougher-minded when it comes to political philosophy. Every day they have the whole world wondering what's going to happen next."

  Pat said to the parents, "You make any enemies while you were overseas?"

  George Hurley shook his head. "The only enemies we make in our field are jealous colleagues and rivals at other schools." He frowned, not angry but confused. "Why would you think we'd made enemies overseas?"

  "Because you're rich. Rich, influential American citizens poking your noses in around the Middle East."

  "I would hardly define us as 'rich,' Captain," Hurley said. "And our contacts in our Middle Eastern work are all academics. We had no other interests on this trip other than to study the Dead Sea Scrolls under the tutelage of more knowledgeable persons than ourselves."

  The silence lasted a few seconds; then Charlene Hurley said softly, "I understand the possible conflict this discovery brings into all our lives. But why ask about 'enemies,' Captain Chambers?"

  Pat told her, "This investigation is classified as an attempted murder—we believe the shooter last night had an accomplice, still at large. Your kids need to stay wrapped up tight until we get to the bottom of it."

  Charlene was shaking her head. "But with the bone safely in the university's hands—"

  "In your hands," I pointed out. "How would you respond to kidnappers who offered you your kids back in exchange for that hunk of bone over there?"

  Matthew and Jenna traded startled looks.

  "Mike's right," Pat said. "The TV commentators and the news-hounds will soon be getting into this thing, and'll start to give out their own suppositions, which they're bound to do with big names like yours and Mike's here in the mix ... not to mention a dead Iranian terror suspect with a high-powered foreign gun in his hand. It'll be a media circus, and the Hurley family'll be the center-ring attraction."

  Calmly, George Hurley let his breath out and asked, "What do you suggest we do, Captain?"

  "Don't tell anybody I said so," Pat said, "but hiring Mike Hammer to help you out is the best thing you could possibly do." He swung toward me. "Quote me, Mike, and I'll say you're a damn liar."

  "I love you, too, buddy," I said with a grin.

  Charlene Hurley asked, "Should we get a lawyer at this point?"

  "Your prerogative, of course," Pat said, "but if you can keep things quiet a little bit longer, I'd appreciate it."

  That was almost the end of the discussion. I asked for copies of their rÉsumÉs and their assistant's, and before we left the cold chamber, I had a four-inch—thick packet of
information in a manila envelope.

  "We appreciate what you're doing for us." George Hurley held out his hand again.

  I was shaking it when I said, "Don't thank me till you've seen the bill."

  Charlene said, "I read an article in the News that said Mike Hammer never takes a paying client. You're just a guy who sticks up for the underdog."

  "There may be some truth in that," I admitted. "Otherwise I wouldn't still be working when most guys my age are playing shuffleboard. But I'm fine with the Hurley family helping me build my belated retirement plan."

  Just before we stepped into the corridor, the small, lovely Charlene Hurley touched my arm and gazed up at me with brown eyes that wouldn't stop. Suddenly she reminded me of someone, though I couldn't think who.

  "Do you have any children, Mike?" she asked.

  "No."

  "You're lucky. Because nothing hurts more than the thought of your children suffering or dying. You must help Jenna and Matthew, Mike. You will help them?"

  "Goliath himself couldn't stop me," I said.

  Chapter 4

  The university had a special car for us. It was a three-year-old limo with a driver whose weather-worn face said he was a retired police officer or an old Army MP. I knew damned well he was carrying some iron under his arm, and felt fine about it. When Velda and I sat down in the backseat, his eyes met mine briefly in the rearview mirror before he readjusted the shoulder sling, and I caught his tight grin in the glass. Hell, he knew I was packing, too. Always nice to run into a fellow lodge member.

  Matthew and Jenna slid in and sat facing us and after noticing the lack of knobs on the doors, Matthew gave me a look.

  "Only the driver can open those doors," I told him.

  "Why?"

  "Ask the driver."

  But he didn't.

  Velda said to them both, "I understand your remaining college hours are as lab assistants to your parents."

  "That's right," Matthew said, and Jenna nodded.

  "Good. Until further notice, this driver and this driver only will escort you to and from the research facility. Times and pickup spots will be specific or you'll trigger a full-on security breach."

 

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