Dead Sea Rising

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Dead Sea Rising Page 21

by Jerry B. Jenkins


  “No, she has a thing she uses to pop open all the boxes in a wall unit in the lobby. She puts everything that fits in there, and bigger stuff she leaves with the front desk.”

  “Can you see a postmark? Let’s make sure this came from overseas.”

  Nicole squinted. “Looks legit.”

  “And you know enough about the Middle East to know—”

  “C’mon, Detective, I know you know I do.”

  “So what’s it look like?”

  “Blue stamped circle with Arabic writing at the top, the date in the middle—a day after the date on the letter. Then at the bottom of the circle, in black, it says, ‘Riyadh Post, Saudi Post Corporation.’”

  “Okay, hold tight, and remember, don’t touch it any more. I’m on my way, and I might bring a techie.”

  “A techie?”

  “A CSI. Don’t answer the door to anyone else, and let your downstairs people know we’re comin’.”

  CHAPTER 74

  Ur

  Terah sat with his crutch in his lap, trying to catch his breath after the conversation with Ikuppi. The king’s guard drove the single-horse chariot away, and when Terah could no longer hear it, he gathered his strength and plotted his path to the bedroom. “I am coming to you, Belessunu,” he said.

  “I would come to you if I were able,” she said.

  “Save your strength. You’ll need it.”

  “Whatever for, Terah?”

  “Give me a moment.”

  Light-headed, Terah hesitated after rising. He could not afford another fall. On a day when he should have simply laid low to try to recover, he had been up and down and on his knees and outside and back in. Not to mention riding to both his livestock pen a hundred yards one way and the palace more than a mile the other. The stop at the servants’ quarters had been nearly as exhausting as his performance at the king’s court and in the dungeon.

  He pushed aside the drapery in the doorway of the bedchamber and waited again. Belessunu lay on her back with Abram asleep on her chest. She peered over the boy’s head. “What have you been doing all day, husband?”

  “Oh, to even begin to tell you would take another whole day.”

  “Well, come and sit, but don’t wake the baby.”

  Sitting on the low mat was the most difficult maneuver of all. It was one thing to make his way about the house, and with help he had been able to climb into the chariot and either stand or sit. But to lower himself nearly to the floor with no support but the crutch, that had already proven something altogether different.

  Belessunu pulled her feet to one side to make room for him, but when Terah began to bend, his hands moving down the crutch an inch at a time, his weight shifted and he was unable to catch himself. “Here I come!” he said, keeping a death grip on the wood as his backside headed too quickly to the mat. At the last instant he knew he had to land on his uninjured side or the pain would make him cry out.

  Terah fought to keep from slamming down while also shifting to take the brunt of the drop on his good side. He nearly accomplished it, but momentum carried him beyond his balancing point and onto his back he went, swollen feet leaving the floor and following him over. With his sandaled feet in the air, he pushed with the back of his head to try to right himself, but his legs went vertical and the hem of his tunic dropped to his waist, exposing him from his toes to his loincloth.

  The crutch had lost purchase with the floor and went tumbling as Terah let out a huge, “Oomph!” and quickly brought his feet back down, trying to cover himself again.

  “Oh, no, husband!” Belessunu chortled, covering her laugh with one hand and steadying Abram with the other.

  Her chuckling made Terah do the same, and he lay there with his face next to her feet as their laughing shook the mat. The baby coughed and squeaked, which made them giggle all the more. “I must sit up,” Terah said. “I can’t breathe!”

  He planted both palms at his side and rocked, trying to raise himself. But his bad shoulder added nothing to the effort. Belessunu pressed a foot under his shoulders, to no effect. Finally Terah was able to roll himself up on his side so he could face her.

  “If the boy can sleep through this,” she said, “he could become a warrior.”

  Terah waited until he was able to breathe evenly and rested his head in his hand, his good elbow planted on the mat. “I have no idea how I will ever get up,” he said. And they laughed some more.

  “Is Ikuppi returning?”

  “Yes, but not for some time. If I have to wait, I’ll wait, but I was hoping for some food soon.”

  “Maybe I can get up in a while,” she said.

  “No, no, as I told you, all in good time. You will need your strength later.”

  “For what?”

  Terah let his head fall back onto the mat and stared at the ceiling. “The king wants to see our son.”

  “Tonight? Are you mad?”

  “Of course not.”

  “And you must not allow it anyway, Terah.”

  “Absolutely not. But when I do not comply, he will come looking for the boy.”

  “We must flee long before that.”

  “That’s what I am saying. But, Belessunu, I need to tell you what I have done.”

  “What you have done?”

  “He believes he has already seen Abram, though I told him we had named the baby Amraphel.”

  “I’m confused. You named the boy after the king, and the king believes what? Make me understand, Terah.”

  CHAPTER 75

  Manhattan

  Nicole’s intercom crackled. “NYPD on their way up, ma’am.”

  The Saudi letter repelled her as if it had its own malevolent aura. She paced near the door until someone knocked and she saw Wojciechowski through the peephole. A middle-aged Indian with a camera around his neck and carrying an oversized metal briefcase followed the detective in.

  “Detective Pranav somethin’ or other,” Wojciechowski said. “Dr. Nicole Berman, daughter of the vic. Get your explanation outta the way so you can get to work.”

  The techie delicately laid his case down and presented Nicole his card, which identified him as Detective Third Grade Pranav Chakrabarti, a forensic technician with the NYPD Crime Scene Unit. “We are known as CSUs,” he said formally, “not CSIs, as Detective Wojciechowski insists on referring to us. And, as you can see, I learned to pronounce his difficult name, despite his unwillingness to pronounce mine.”

  Nicole read it perfectly, and he beamed.

  “Well, ’scuse me for not havin’ a doctorate,” Wojciechowski said. “Can we get to this now, Pranav?”

  The CSU set up on the table a small tripod for his camera as well as a formation of LCD lights. He quizzed Nicole about how much she had handled the letter and envelope.

  “I’m going to photograph them, dust them for prints, and then bag and take them to the lab for more sophisticated testing. Detective Wojciechowski tells me he’s trying to see your mail carrier this evening. Fortunately you and your father—and any US postal worker—have your prints in databases to which we have access. We need to determine which post offices this came through to eliminate their personnel and then see if we can lift any other prints.”

  Chakrabarti went quiet as he worked, and Nicole pulled Wojciechowski aside. “Does this take the focus off my father and me?”

  “Sure could be a game changer, assumin’ one of you didn’t send it yourself.”

  Nicole puffed. “You just won’t be convinced, will you?”

  “Lemme ask you this. What if we found your dad’s fingerprints on that letter?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t even invent a response.”

  “Welcome to my world, Doc. This is the kinda stuff I have to consider every day.”

  “You’re working too hard.” Secretly, Nicole was glad he did. The threat had so rattled her she didn’t even want to talk about it. “Do you usually work weekends?”

  “I wouldn’t know what a weekend was,” Wojc
iechowski said. “You think crime takes days off?”

  “You love it, is that it?”

  That seemed to stop him. “Love it? Well, I sure don’t do this for the cash.”

  “Why then?”

  “I’m good at it.”

  “I can tell,” Nicole said. “But that doesn’t answer why.”

  “You really wanna know? Truth is, I’m a justice freak. And much as people want you to believe that all the idealism is drummed out of a cop by the time he’s been on the job a coupla years, there’s still a lot of us in this for the right reasons.”

  “What made you that way?”

  Wojciechowski chuckled. “Now who won’t get off the case? You’d make a good cop.”

  “You’re evading the question, George.” In truth, Nicole was desperate to talk about anything but her own trauma.

  “Oh, good one,” he said. “I told you when we met that you could call me George, but you don’t until you wanna get personal.”

  “Guilty. So why?”

  CHAPTER 76

  Ur

  Belessunu gingerly repositioned herself so she could put the baby down beside her. She struggled to sit up, her feet spread on the floor, and she held her face in her hands.

  “Say something, wife,” Terah said. “Please. I did this to save our son.”

  “I cannot believe you are telling me this. I knew you had abandoned the one true God, but I would not have imagined you were capable of such treachery.”

  “But I told you, the gods gave me this plan—”

  “I do not want to hear that again, Terah! You have not saved this family. You have cursed us.”

  Her shoulders heaved. “Mutuum and his wife …! How could you do this to them? And Yadidatum! And Ikuppi? To us, Terah! There is so much evil here—”

  “Don’t cry, Belessunu! Can’t you see I had no choice? We can argue about this all night, but I must get you to the cave …”

  She held up a hand and whispered, “The Lord speaks …”

  “Oh no.”

  Belessunu spoke in the flat drone she had used the night before. “You will be oppressed, and a child shall be preferred over you. Woe to you, wicked one. I shall be hostile with you, for you will reap what you have sown. A woman will rule you.”

  Terah became desperate to flee her presence, this presence, but he could not rise.

  “‘How dare you crush and grind the faces of servants?’ says the Lord your God.”

  “I reject these admonitions!” Terah wailed, then quieted himself, hoping not to wake the baby.

  “Oh, descendant of Noah, why do you not walk with Me in the light of the Lord? You have forsaken the truth for the fables of soothsayers …”

  “Nimrod’s stargazers?” Terah whined.

  “Your house may be full of silver and gold, and there may be no end to your treasure, your horses, your chariots. But it is also full of idols. You worship the work of your own hands.”

  “Pray He spares me, Belessunu, forgives me!”

  “You do well to enter into the rock …”

  “You see, wife? Perhaps it was He who led me to the cave.”

  “… and hide in the dust from My terror.”

  “Oh, Belessunu, I entreat you pray He has mercy on me!”

  But she continued, “The lofty man shall be humbled, and I alone shall be exalted.”

  “If I exalt You,” Terah groaned, “oh God of my ancestors, will You pardon me?”

  “The day of the Lord of hosts shall come upon the proud and lofty …”

  “But I am not! I humble myself before You …”

  “You shall be brought low.”

  Terah grabbed his crutch and struggled to rise, every wound and sore and aching joint pleading for relief. He had to get away from this God. But even as he hobbled out of the bedroom, he could not block out Belessunu’s recitation.

  “I alone will be exalted, and your idols shall I abolish.”

  Terah was in the great room now, chastising himself for having not understood that it was this one true God who had already shaken the ground beneath him and warned him. And yet still he was tempted to fall on his face before the remains of his idols.

  Belessunu continued, “In that day you will cast away your idols of silver and gold, which you made for yourself to worship …”

  “I will cast them away now!” Terah sobbed. “Oh, I am undone!”

  “Terah,” Belessunu called in her own voice.

  “Spare me, wife!”

  “The Lord God wants me to sever myself from you, because, He asks, of what account are you?”

  “I am but a man! Sinful and broken! What can I do?”

  She spoke for the Lord again: “You have rebelled against Me, your creator. Alas, sinful man, laden with iniquity, evildoer, corrupt! You will revolt again, for you are sick and your heart is weak. You are unsound from the sole of your foot to your head. Wounds and bruises and sores condemn you. I cannot endure iniquity. When you spread your hands, I will hide from you. Though you pray, I will not hear. Your hands are stained with the blood of the innocent.”

  CHAPTER 77

  Manhattan

  “You’re gonna make me tell this, aren’t you?” Wojciechowski said. “If you must know, it started with my aunt.”

  “I’m listening,” Nicole said.

  “I was eleven, and I had a favorite uncle. Henryk. Went by Hank. I mean, I liked my aunt Lucyna too, but he was the cool one. Lived in Chicago with most of the rest of the family that came over. But he did better than most of the others, so he visited us here at least once a year, usually more. He’d bring me stuff—trinkets, souvenirs, things like that. Told stories, taught me jokes, teased me about bein’ a Yanks fan. Said the Cubs could kick our tails. I said, ‘Yeah, if they could ever get back to the World Series.’ Just a cool guy.

  “So this one time he and Aunt Lucy come to visit, and they get mugged right in front of our building. Cab has just pulled outta sight and they’re startin’ to schlep their bags to the front door. Lowlife comes up, says he’s got a knife and wants my uncle’s wallet. Uncle Hank starts swearin’ at him in Polish, tellin’ him he’s gonna need more than a knife and all that. The guy pulls the blade and rams it just under Aunt Lucy’s sternum and she’s good as dead before she hits the ground.”

  “Oh no!”

  “Dad and I run out there. Uncle Hank’s bent over Aunt Lucy, screamin’. The bad guy pulls Hank’s wallet from his pocket, gives him a bash on the head, and runs off. Dad and I light out after the guy, but I don’t notice that Dad stops and goes back ’cause Uncle Hank’s on the ground, bleeding. So here I am, no more’n a Little Leaguer, chasin’ a violent criminal down the street in broad daylight. He darts into an alley, and I hear my dad scream like I’ve never heard him ever, calling, ‘George! Stop! Get back here!’ So I come back. Thing is, I saw the guy, and I coulda picked him out of a lineup. So could my dad.

  “Uncle Hank’s still in ICU when we bury Aunt Lucy, and all three of us describe the perp to the cops, they get a sketch out to the public, go door to door looking for other witnesses or anybody who might know the guy. And nothin’. Guy literally gets away with murder.”

  “That’s awful!”

  “I don’t hold it against the cops. They did all they could with what they had. But I’ve been living with that for forty years. It nearly destroyed our family. Uncle Hank finally went back to Chicago—never came here again. Didn’t even want to be reminded of New York, so I never heard from him either. Died when I was in high school. All I wanted was justice. I saw what crime can do. Two people attacked. One dies, one hurt bad, but you can’t even count all the victims.

  “That’s why I do what I do, and I never watch the clock or check the calendar. The wife gets it—well, at least the second one does. I know it’s hard on everybody, but justice doesn’t wait.”

  Nicole couldn’t speak. She laid a hand on Wojciechowski’s arm. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

  He shrugged. “Fair’s fair.
Someday you gotta tell me why you do what you do.” Nicole wondered if Wojciechowski had ulterior motives for his interest her life’s work.

  CHAPTER 78

  Ur

  Terah tried everything in his power to escape the torture in his mind. Was it possible he had been cursed by the god of his forefathers, especially through his own wife? He told himself the child he had sacrificed was a mere servant’s baby, but in his soul he feared his namesake’s blood was on his hands.

  Terah forced himself to focus on and worry more about Ikuppi’s fatigue than about his own guilt. Surely the king’s guard would get over Terah’s role in deceiving the king, especially in light of King Nimrod’s own deceit. Yet Terah had asked so much of Ikuppi. The man was young and robust, but how much could he endure? When he checked in after each run for supplies and then to unload them at the cave, he looked dreadful.

  “Are you all right, my friend?” Terah said.

  It was not lost on him that Ikuppi seemed to recoil every time Terah called him friend. But he was his friend! What if he had not warned him of the king’s intentions? His own son would have been slain by now.

  “I just want to finish and be done, done with the task and done with you.”

  “I understand you feel that way now, Ikuppi, but believe me, we will have better days to come.”

  “You might,” Ikuppi said. “I cannot foresee ever enjoying another day.”

  “Oh, believe me, when Utu rules the sky again in the morning, everything will seem brighter.”

  “This is the last supply run to the cave, Terah. When I have unloaded I will return for Belessunu and the baby.”

  CHAPTER 79

  Manhattan

  “Before you bag that,” Nicole told Detective Chakrabarti, “I need to get a shot of it for my father.”

  Pranav glanced at Wojciechowski, who nodded.

  Wojciechowski’s phone chirped. “This’s G-Dub,” he said. “Good … Pick her up and get her to the Central Park station house. Gimme an hour. I’m gonna run the daughter back to Sinai.”

  He put his phone away. “Found your mail carrier.”

 

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