Isaac tapped the shopping bag across his lap and felt the reassuring heft of the briefcase within. If he were Romulus, he would definitely have sent a surveillance team. The president had deliberately chosen a low-profile means of transporting an artifact he considered important, but he would never trust a single individual with such a crucial task.
Isaac made a mental note to speak to General Archer about the clumsy operatives. They were probably freelancers, people pulled from the ranks of the former East German Stasi. The man was old enough to have worked for the former Communist secret police. The woman could have been his wife.
“Karte, bitte.” The conductor knocked on Isaac’s door, then stepped inside, his hand outstretched for the ticket.
“Certainly.” Isaac pulled his train ticket from the shopping bag and handed it to the conductor, who searched it, then nodded in approval.
The conductor spoke in English. “Your identification, please.”
Isaac held out his right arm as the conductor pulled his scanner from his pocket, then waved it over the back of Isaac’s hand. The conductor’s smile flattened. “This identification code is incomplete, sir. There is no UFM suffix.”
“I’m an Israeli citizen,” Isaac said, lowering his hand. “We are exempt from membership in the Universal Faith Movement, so the UFM code is not necessary.”
The conductor frowned. “Not necessary, but certainly desirable, sir.” Drizzling disapproval, he spun on his heel and left the compartment.
Isaac leaned his head on the train window and stared at the scenery rushing by. By now Sarah had certainly taken the identification chip, but had her father and the other resistant religious Jews? With the advent of the Universal Network’s technology, they now had to find everyday life difficult. Most stores, even in Israel, required a Universal Chip even to purchase something as trivial as a pack of gum.
They would soon be two steps behind the rest of the world. Many of the Western nations had begun to require a UFM code within a citizen’s identification chip. At this point, the UFM code served public relations purposes only—Romulus wanted the nations of the world to unite in peace, and what better way to do that than through a religious organization? The UFM code, which could be painlessly applied to any individual’s Universal Chip through the skin, silently proclaimed an individual’s membership in the Universal Faith Movement every time he or she moved through an ID checkpoint or a grocery store.
The Jews had been exempted from required membership in the Universal Faith movement, but more than a few forward-thinking rabbis had already contacted Romulus and expressed a desire to join. By exempting the Jews, they insisted, Romulus’s organization was subtly encouraging anti-Semitism. If everyone in the world who longed for peace belonged to the Universal Faith Movement, what might a thinking person assume about a group of people who refused to join?
No matter what the rest of the world thought, Isaac knew Sarah’s father would never join with any organization that had sprung from the World Council of Churches. Sarah would be more pragmatic about the issue, but she would not accept the UFM code without struggling through a severe bout of conscience . . .
Nausea followed that thought, rippling like a slippery snake through Isaac’s abdomen. How could his Sarah be unfaithful? If Romulus had not exposed her falseness, Isaac would have never believed his wife capable of adultery and deceit. Perhaps she had already taken the UFM code. Perhaps he didn’t know her at all.
Isaac pulled the shopping bag to his chest and crossed his arms over it, steeling himself to the long and lonely journey ahead. The burning bitterness in the pit of his gut wasn’t going anywhere.
“Reis?” Isaac turned and pressed the cell phone closer to his ear, trying to avoid a pair of noisy women. “The objective was accomplished. I’m at the Paris train station.”
“Romulus wants you to bring it immediately.”
“I’m on my way. ETA thirty minutes.”
“Very good.”
Isaac punched the power off, then dropped the phone into his pocket. The train trip had been uneventful, with little to disturb his long thoughts. Now the sun was setting on the western horizon, and Romulus waited at the chateau.
A cabby pulled to the curb in front of Isaac, brakes squealing sharply. The little man inside bent down to catch Isaac’s eye. “Taxi, monsieur?”
“No, merci.” One of the first rules of intelligence work was never accept the first cab that comes along. Ignoring the cabby’s curse of frustration, Isaac walked to the next cab in line and gave him the address of Romulus’s chateau.
Half an hour later, with the sun securely tucked behind the trees, the cab pulled up outside the tall gates of Romulus’s chateau. “Cieux de merciful! Romulus habite ici, n’est ce pas?” the driver exclaimed, slouching in his seat to catch a glimpse of the house through the iron bars.
“I’m not at liberty to say who lives here,” Isaac answered, getting out with his precious parcel. He paid the driver with a fistful of euros, then walked to the security panel and waved his hand beneath the scanner.
“Bonsoir, Monsieur Ben-David,” a mechanical female voice purred over the speaker. “You may proceed through the gate.”
At that moment, the iron gate swung open. As Isaac walked through, he knew hidden electromagnetic devices were scanning his form for weapons or other contraband. As soon as he cleared the first checkpoint, the gates swung shut and locked.
“An escort will arrive for you momentarily.” The pleasant voice poured from another speaker, this one hidden behind a tree. “A possible weapon has been detected in your luggage. Please remain where you are until further notified.”
Isaac gripped the briefcase and said nothing as he waited. Overhead, the moon played peekaboo, hiding her face in the clouds one moment and shining down on him in the next. The great stars were little more than silvery points and the small ones were lost in the haze over Paris.
From somewhere in the distance, a sprinkler whirred water over the thirsty landscape. Apparently the international regulations of mandatory water rationing did not apply on Romulus’s estate.
Finally a figure appeared, the round beam of a flashlight bouncing on the path ahead of him. Isaac expected to see the burly figure of one of the night security guards, but no less a personage than Elijah Reis himself came and stood before Isaac. He shone the flashlight beam directly into Isaac’s face for a moment, then snapped the beam downward.
“Major Ben-David, you are awaited.” A note of solemnity filled the man’s voice.
Isaac gestured toward the house. “Is President Romulus—”
“He’s in the great hall,” Reis interrupted. “Come with me, and you will see. Many have gathered here, and we have been anxiously awaiting your return.”
Isaac lifted a brow at this, but the darkness must have hidden his expression, for Reis did not comment further. The man said nothing for a long moment, then jerked the flashlight toward the briefcase in Isaac’s hand.
“So that’s it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have any trouble?”
“No. I spotted one surveillance team, but I lost them with no trouble. And if anyone wanted to follow, I assumed they would surveil the airport. That’s why I took the train.”
“Very clever.” Reis spoke in a tone of surprised respect. “Can you imagine who might have wanted to follow you?”
“The only person that comes to my mind is Romulus himself,” Isaac answered, his voice dry. “No one else would care much about this ancient relic.”
“Never underestimate the power of the opposition.” Reis’s voice dissolved in a thready whisper. “If they understood its significance, they would do anything to stop us. If Romulus says the sky is blue, they would say it is green.”
They walked in silence a moment more, the sound of their shoes on the gravel walkway the only sound. Then Reis said, “Did you hear about the two lunatics?”
“Moses and Elijah?” Surprised, Isaac cut a look to his co
mpanion. The moon slipped from behind a cloud to cast a silvery light upon the other man’s face.
“Yes, though I cannot speak their names without feeling disgust.” Reis’s mouth curled and rolled like he wanted to spit. “To think that I should share a name with one of them—”
“What did they do?” Isaac interrupted, trying to keep his companion centered on the topic. “More trouble in Jerusalem?”
“Worse. They came here yesterday. They stood outside the gates of this chateau and cursed Romulus’s name. The locals were horrified, of course, and Adrian was terribly embarrassed. Worst of all, an unfortunate accident occurred in the midst of the trouble. Two of our security guards spilled gasoline on themselves, then one of the fools lit a cigarette. Both were severely burned. Neither survived, I’m afraid.”
Reis’s face went bleak with sorrow. “The president took the news very hard. I’ve never seen him so upset. He was disturbed, of course, because two of his employees died, and I’ve never seen him so angry. If the two troublemakers had not left the area by nightfall, I’m not sure what Romulus would have done.”
Isaac shook his head in confusion. “Why couldn’t the guards arrest them?”
“They tried. But that’s when the fire broke out. They escaped in the confusion.”
They had reached the front door. Reis opened it, then stood back and gestured for Isaac to precede him. “The honor belongs to you,” he said. His small, bright eyes grew somewhat smaller and brighter, the pupils of them training in on Isaac like gun barrels. “Go straight into the hall and take the spear directly to Romulus. Everyone is waiting.”
Nodding, Isaac passed through the doorway and crossed the tile floor.
EIGHTEEN
FEELING A BREATH OF CHANGE IN THE ATMOSPHERE, Romulus opened his eyes. The relic had finally arrived, borne by Isaac Ben-David, the son of a Jew and a descendant of David. Later, those who learned of this night would note the significance. Romulus straightened in his high-backed chair and stared at the double doors that would open momentarily.
“Look, he’s awake. He sees!”
The whispers began as several of the men who sat facing him lifted their heads. The atmosphere in the hall was spiced with incense and the prayers of those who had found Romulus faithful and able. Dozens of candles served to illumine only the central portion of the great hall where Romulus sat in his ornately carved chair. A canopy of shadows covered the ceiling above, while flickering firelight decorated the walls and moved with every breath of wind through the clerestoried windows.
One of the double doors opened. Major Isaac Ben-David stood in the fissure, backlit by the bright light in the foyer. He stood motionless for a moment, as if to adjust his vision to the darkened surroundings, then his eyes sought and found Romulus upon his throne.
Yes, Isaac Ben-David. Seek me and find me. Come!
Drawn by the unspoken command, the Israeli stepped forward, bearing the briefcase in his hand. The two dozen men in the room caught their breath at the sight of it, and quiet shushings echoed through the chamber as Isaac approached.
Romulus leaned forward until he sat on the very edge of his chair, then held out his hand. “Isaac Ben-David,” he said, his voice breaking like thunder over the silent chamber, “you have brought what my soul longs for.”
“I have brought the spear.” Ben-David stopped as if uncertain of his role in the drama, then he saw the small table to the right of the throne. Sensing its purpose, he set the briefcase upon it, then flipped the rotating locks with sure, swift movements. The locks clicked open, the audience gasped in appreciation of the moment, then Isaac Ben-David stepped forward with the open briefcase in his hand.
Romulus felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he stared at the spear. He had waited so long for this moment! He had felt the spear’s lack before he even knew it existed. And now that he understood its power and possessed it, he would succeed where so many others had failed. He would harness the powers of the world’s true master; he would lead the world to acknowledge the source of all worldly ambition. He would be victorious.
Romulus reached out and ran a questing fingertip over the rough iron. His fingers slipped between the velvet cushion and the blade, then gripped the chiseled edge that had pierced the body of the One who called himself Almighty.
Death and power, in one instrument. Eternal authority to gain.
“Elijah,” he whispered into the darkness behind him.
“Here, Adrian.”
“The shaft.”
From out of the darkness, Elijah Reis stepped forward, a polished wooden pole in his grasp. Romulus took it with his free hand and held it aloft in the candlelight so that all might appreciate the full significance of the moment. A Jewish craftsman had hewn the shank from Israeli acacia wood. While he held the pole upright, Adrian slipped the spearhead into place, then wrapped his hand around the metal flanges, molding them to the tapering line of the wooden shaft.
The weapon was complete. As Reis melted back into the shadows, Isaac Ben-David stood motionless in the candlelight, his gaze fixed upon the talisman of power.
Romulus threw back his head as his breath caught in his lungs, then spilled out onto the gathering in a rush of words.
Isaac took an instinctive half-step back as Romulus began to speak. The words were foreign to his ear, sounds unlike any tongue he had ever heard, and suddenly they mixed and mingled with other tongues, other voices, that poured from the throat of a single man. Isaac stood rooted to the spot like a frightened child, as the men behind him began to weep, lift their hands, and sway to and fro like Orthodox Jews praying on the Day of Atonement.
It wasn’t possible; somehow he must have been drugged, and now he witnessed the effects of a visual and auditory hallucinogen. For now Romulus was actually glowing, his head emitting an aura that alternated gold and silver in the flickering firelight. One voice from his throat spoke French, another German, another English, another that strange guttural tongue Isaac had never heard. And over and over the voices Isaac could understand were repeating phrases about power and control and victory.
Was Romulus mad? Was Isaac?
Tearing his gaze from the bewildering sight of Romulus and the spear, he looked around and saw that the other men in the room were as amazed as he. But they were now kneeling in homage, in worship, of the one who held the spear. Wave after wave of shock slapped at Isaac, compounded by sights and scents and sounds until he was unable to bear the noise and confusion any longer. Leaving Romulus in a transport of ecstasy, Isaac resisted the urge to clap his hands over his ears and slipped through the worshipers.
When he reached the safety and relative normalcy of the tiled foyer, he stood in front of one of the tall mirrors and pressed his damp palms to the silvered surface. “You’re not crazy,” he told his reflection, noting that a trickle of perspiration crept down the flesh just before his ear.
“No, my friend, you are not.”
Isaac snapped his mouth shut and turned. General Archer stood beside him, clad in his blue uniform with the top button of his dress coat undone. The gaping button was a touch of normalcy juxtaposed against a sea of madness.
“Excuse me, General.” Isaac dropped his hand, then thrust his arms behind his back. “I suppose you think I’ve lost my mind, but I don’t always go around talking to mirrors.”
Archer’s blue eyes warmed slightly, and the hint of a smile acknowledged the success of Isaac’s mind reading. “I don’t blame you, Major, for feeling confused. These other men, after all, are the upper echelon of the Universal Faith Movement. They have known him for years and have awaited this moment nearly as long as he. They understand the power of the spear—and you are just beginning to understand.”
“I don’t understand a thing.”
Archer put his hand upon Isaac’s shoulder. “You understand more than you think you do. And soon, very soon, you will understand all. But for now, I have been sent to tell you good night. You performed a heroic feat with admirable succ
ess, and the president himself will thank you later. He wanted me to send you to your hotel for a well-deserved rest. We’ve reserved the jet to return you to Jerusalem soon, but before you go, we want you to enjoy a bit of a vacation. See Paris. Take in a show at the theater. Indulge in the rewards of your excellent labor.”
Isaac turned toward the door, which Archer opened with another smile. A limo, one of the finer ones from Romulus’s garage, stood outside with the motor running and a chauffeur standing ready.
“There is one more thing,” Archer said, lifting his brows. “It is a minor thing, purely ceremonial, really. But Romulus has mentioned that you really should have a UFM code included in your ID serial number.”
Isaac said nothing, but blinked in stunned silence.
“I know the Jews were exempted by the terms of the peace accord, but so many things have happened since those days,” Archer said, tilting his head as he looked at Isaac. “Times are rapidly changing. And it is not without precedent—you know we have heard from several Jewish groups who want to join us.”
“I know,” Isaac said slowly. “But there are so many others who will always have strong feelings about the matter. It’s not a question of my loyalty, for Romulus surely knows I am willing to serve him however I can—”
The general put out a silencing hand. “The time for complete unity is upon us, Major. And the president knows that many of the Jews are reluctant to join the Universal Faith Movement on account of their religious beliefs. We, therefore, must show them that it is possible to be a Jew, an admirable citizen of Israel, and one who is loyal to the Universal Movement.” His face creased in a sudden smile. “You have become a bit of a hero to your countrymen, Isaac. They know about your efforts to aid in the rebuilding of the Temple. They respect you. You must be their example.”
Isaac felt a curious, tingling shock. “You are asking me to join the Universal Faith Movement . . . publicly?”
The Spear of Tyranny Page 16