“It’s awful, Belessunu. I didn’t want to trouble you with this, but Wedum discovered his body in the desert this morning! The wild dogs had overtaken him.”
She sat staring. “An armed king’s guard in a royal chariot?”
“Yes! That’s why we need the poison, to spread in front of the mouth of the cave for such ravenous and powerful beasts.”
“You cannot distract me with warnings about our safety,” Belessunu said. “I liked Ikuppi, and I thought you did too.”
“Of course I did! He’s the one who warned us of Nimrod’s plan.”
“Then tell me the truth. Is this yet another death for which you are responsible?”
Terah hung his head.
“Oh, Terah, by the time you come to your senses and repent before the one true God, it will be too late! Did you kill Ikuppi because he was a witness to your treachery?”
“No! If you must know, he fell on his own sword, and that’s the truth. That he is gone does make it easier for us, however. One less person who could betray us to the king.”
“Oh, husband, you are beyond hope. Do you not see why he took his own life? You may as well have murdered him too. At least tell me he will lie in state, duly honored.”
“Only his bones remain. We did not want the king to learn of his suicide. This way he will be lauded, yes.”
“And what of his family?”
“What of them?”
“They have been left without a husband and father because you pushed him past what his conscience could bear.”
Abram began to fuss. “Allow me to tend to him,” Terah said.
“No! You think I want him comforted by a murderer?”
“Are you saying I will never again touch my son?”
“I’m saying not now, Terah. I fear God must bring you low if you are ever to return to Him.”
CHAPTER 89
Vietnam, 1972
By the end of the summer, peace and rumors of peace changed the nature of Ben and Charm’s relationship. Knowing Ben could be shipped home with virtually no notice thrust them together and forced them into morose conversations and even weeping jags that depressed them both. They clung to each other, fearing that any moment might be their last. Ben spent every available night at Charm’s apartment, rushing back to his post at dawn.
As the months dragged on, with more news and talk but no peace, they spent more time than ever just walking and talking, telling each other every moment they could remember of their lives. Ben wanted to talk about the future, a future together, but it was just as he had told Red. Charm had dreamt of teaching since she was a young teenager. Escaping to America had never crossed her mind.
“You could teach in the States,” he said.
“You forget, I read. Your own magazines say it’s unlikely you will be welcomed back. Imagine me. What would I look and sound like to Americans? To them I will represent this war and they will hate me.”
“No one who knows you could hate you, Charm.”
“But why would they want to get to know me? My English may be good for a Vietnamese, but not for teaching in America. And the US already has good education. It’s my people who need teachers.”
“I need you.”
“I need you, too, Ben, but it would be selfish of me to leave here just for us.”
“Just for us?”
“You know what I mean, and you know that I will always love you. You were my first, you know.”
He fell silent. Then, “You were my first who ever meant anything.”
“You could stay here,” she said, looking away.
“But the things I’ve seen here … I hate everything about this place except you.”
“And you would have me.”
“But what would I do?” he said. “Everything about this place would remind me of stuff I never want to speak of again. Anyway, I have no skills worth anything here.”
“You said your parents have means …”
“I would never ask them to support me, especially after all I said about them and their priorities.”
“We will write,” she said.
“Of course. Every day. I can’t imagine life without you.”
That only made her cry again. “Maybe someday you can visit.”
“And find you with a happy Vietnamese husband and a bunch of babies? I don’t know.”
“Don’t tease like that, Ben. You are the one who will find a wife and have a big family. I will be only a memory.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
“We must be realistic,” Charm said. “I don’t want us to be apart, but we will be, and it won’t do us any good to be sad all the time. Let’s promise to remember all the fun, all the good times, all the hours together. It will be hard at first, but I won’t want to think you’re sad.”
“I will be heartbroken,” he said.
“So will I, but we must promise to overcome it.”
“I don’t want to get over you,” he said.
“I know. It will be for both of us just as if the other has died. We would grieve, but we wouldn’t want the other to worry that we were so sad we could not enjoy life. You know what I mean?”
He nodded, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to get on with his life, now that he had found her.
By November, Ben and Charm entered a new phase where they tried spending less time together rather than more. He agreed with her that they needed to prepare for the day they would part forever. It only made sense. It was the rational thing to do. They began by agreeing to see each other only on the odd days of the month. And that’s when Ben realized that sense and rationality did not apply to love.
He was miserable without her, and on the odd days they clung to each other even more desperately. But Charm remained the voice of reason. “We’re practicing,” she said. “And we’re finding out how hard it will be. The even days will be everyday when you leave, but time is supposed to heal. I mourned my father for two years. I still miss him, but it is easier. I didn’t think it would be, but it is. In December, we should see each other only three times a week—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
“Not at all on the weekends?” Ben said. “Is that really what you want?”
“Of course it’s not what I want! I want to marry you and live with you the rest of my life. But I can’t ask you to stay here, and I don’t want to go there.”
“Charm, do you feel like if I loved you enough, I would find a way to stay? You can be honest.”
She paused. “Sometimes I think that,” she said. “But then I know I don’t love you any less just because I don’t want to go with you.”
News from the peace talks in Paris made Ben realize for the first time that the war might really soon be over. He had daydreamed of getting home, then dreaded it with all that was in him. And now he found himself conflicted. In many ways he missed his parents, even the things he had hated most about them. It struck him that he had never really hated them. He just couldn’t abide their thinking, their ways. On the other hand, status conscious as they had been, their foundation had vastly grown and helped a lot of people in a lot of places who had nowhere else to turn.
Ben had always resisted being expected to take it over. That was the rub. The assumption. But at times he considered what he might be able to accomplish with those kinds of resources. Who knew? He might even be able to help Vietnam rebuild and become the kind of a place he would return to and be able to put the slaughter behind him. And that gave Ben an idea. He wondered what his father would think of a fund for Vietnamese who wanted to become teachers. It shouldn’t take Charm until she was well into her twenties to even be able to think about pursuing a degree in education. Could The Berman Foundation start a fund, and could Ben somehow see that the first scholarship go to a young woman he knew?
CHAPTER 90
Ur
Terah had healed enough that people didn’t blanch when they saw his face. And he had been able to do away with his crutch.
He still walked slowly, and he favored his right ankle. But it must not have been broken, because it felt better every day. That toe on his left foot, however, was still sensitive, and he had to be very careful putting on his sandals.
A messenger from the king’s court arrived one afternoon to tell him Nimrod-Amraphel requested his presence the next morning.
“Our great king is aware, is he not, that I am not ready to resume my duties just yet?”
“He is, sir. He simply wants a brief audience with you.”
Terah made the mistake of telling Belessunu this news that evening, as if it signified some honor.
“Does that put Nimrod back among your many gods, husband? The one who executed an innocent child, thinking it was your own—all the while telling you how pleased he was with you?”
“I should have known you would not understand, Belessunu. I am aware he deceived me, but I remain a valued and trusted confidant.”
“Oh, do you? And tell me, Terah, what would the self-proclaimed god and king do with his valued chief officer if he knew your wife and son were here?”
“You know what he would do. My skull would be run through with a sword and I would be buried with all the others who have dishonored the crown. That’s why we must hold fast and endure.”
“How long can we maintain this ruse, Terah? This is no way for me to live, and certainly no way for Abram to live. Come, let me show you something.”
He followed her to the mouth of the cave and peered out to be sure no one was about. She led him to the side of the outcropping where it was clear in the moonlight she had done some digging. “Do you still smell the rancid meat?”
“Of course.”
“It’s deadly, but it becomes even worse the older it grows. Last night the baby was awakened by the chattering of jackals. I prayed the meat I had laid out would appeal to them, and soon they grew quiet. When I calmed Abram, the animals began crying. They were plainly in agony. This morning I found three lying dead near the entrance. I buried them and added even more meat in the rocks around the perimeter. It gave me confidence, Terah. I fear no animal, but I do fear men. They will not be attracted to rotten meat.”
“All the more reason to stay well back in the darkness of the caverns. Men are not able to smell the way dogs and jackals can.”
“I have seen or heard no one pass this way,” she said. “Day or night.”
“Nonetheless, stay vigilant,” he said, feeling exposed just being outside.
“I will protect my son with my life,” she said, “but I do sometimes bring him out.”
“That is reckless, Belessunu.”
“I remain watchful. And of course he’s too young to comprehend, but he seems absolutely fascinated with the sky. He fixates on the moon and stars, and I have to shade his eyes in the daytime or he would stare directly at the sun.”
“Such forays portend only danger,” Terah said. “If you persist in this, I do not want to hear of it.”
“You’ll hear more than that. I want you to know what I’m teaching the boy.”
“Teaching him? He doesn’t understand one word.”
“He will. I tell him of the one true God, the Creator. I tell him God put the moon and the stars in the sky and gave the sun to warm us during the day. I tell him these orbs are not gods but creations of the Lord God Almighty. By the time he walks on his own, he will see the folly of pagan gods and worshipping anything or anyone but the Creator. He will understand the senselessness of idols made of wood and stone and ivory and gold and silver. He will know the one true God.”
Terah hung his head and led Belessunu back into the cave where he sat on a rock ledge just inside the mouth where the moonlight still reached him. “Would you sit with me, wife?”
“I prefer to stand,” she said.
“Must you despise me so?”
“Oh, Terah! I don’t despise you. I will defy your ungodliness, and I hate how you have sinned against the God of our forefathers. But that is because I love you. I care for you. I long to see you return to your belief in the Lord Himself. I tremble at the thought that you have strayed so far from Him that He might never take you back, even if you see the depth of your wickedness. I want you to know my resolve and hear my opposition to your depraved schemes. But I do not want you to think I despise you. Do you not see the altar I built?” She gestured toward what he had assumed was her oven.
“I thought Ikuppi built that for you.”
“This is not where I cook, husband. It is where I offer sacrifices and pray for you.”
Terah found himself speechless. For me, when she thinks as she does about what I have done? He buried his head in his hands. “Belessunu, is it possible we might one day return to the delight we once knew in each other?”
“That I leave entirely to you, Terah. I cherished the man I married in my youth. And I miss him. Should he return, so would I.”
“I am here,” he said.
“No, you are not. You will return to me only when you have repented before the Lord your God and He has forgiven you. He might require you recompense those whose lives you have destroyed by your selfish decisions.”
“But I spared our son’s—”
“At the cost of so many others! The injuries you have inflicted reach far beyond the lives of Mutuum’s baby and Ikuppi. Think of their families, think of the midwife, think of your lack of faith in God to protect the son He promised would himself become an exalted father. God does not lie. How could Abram become a father if the king were to kill him?”
“Belessunu, let me hold him. I know you think me evil, but he is my son. My arms ache to cradle him.”
“Perhaps in time,” she said, deep sadness in her voice.
CHAPTER 91
Manhattan
“Hang tight,” Wojciechowski said. “I’ll send a car.”
“I hate leaving Ginny by herself,” Nicole’s dad told the detective.
“I’d like you both here. Can someone else stay with her? We shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
“Well, at least one of us will be there,” Ben said.
“I’ll be fine,” Nicole’s mother said. “I’m ready for a little dinner anyway, so staff will be around.”
While they were waiting for the ride to the Central Park station house, Kayla showed up to report she had talked with Dr. Thorn to get an update on her mother’s condition. Nicole talked with her in the hall. “Bet he wasn’t happy to be called at home.”
“He wasn’t. Especially this late. But he did say he was concerned about something he referred to as ‘sundowning.’”
“What’s that?”
“I took some notes. Best I understand it, Sundown Syndrome refers to changes in behavior late in the afternoon or evening with Alzheimer’s or premature dementia.”
“Which he determined my mother doesn’t have.”
“He said that, but he also said to watch for things like agitation, delusions, paranoia, or disorientation. He said he’s trying to get at why her mental acuity seems to come and go.”
“But as far as how long she has to stay here …”
“He’s guessing up to another week.”
Nicole told Kayla she and her father had to be gone for about an hour. “Any chance you’ll still be here when we get back?”
“If you need me to be.”
“Well, we’re just a little skittish about leaving Mom alone.”
“The officers will be here.”
“I know, but we prefer someone who’s here to look after her specifically. They’re just keeping people out—which is great, but …”
“Pleased to sit with her,” Kayla said.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
At the precinct station house, Wojciechowski sat hunched over Nicole’s phone. “Can’t believe you both know Arabic. I wouldn’t have even known what language this was if it hadn’t been for the letter you got, let alone what it says. Gotta be the same guy though, right? That what you’re thinkin’?”
“Seems like it,” she said. “But what do we know? You’re the expert.”
“Not when it comes to this foreign stuff. I don’t know what to make of it. But you’re sure whoever it is is referring to this Mustafa guy?”
“That’s all it can mean, in my opinion,” her dad said. “Question is, does this person really know whether the plane crash was an accident, or is he just taking advantage of the situation to make Nic wonder.”
“Somebody in Chock-a-block’s department can determine whether this text came from overseas. Maybe Pranav himself.”
“Chock-a-block?” Nicole said.
“I’m tryin’ to get a handle on his last name ’cause he gets mine right and makes me feel bad.”
“You’d better stick with his first name.”
“Anyway, he already decided the stamp and postmark and envelope and paper are Middle Eastern on the one you got at home. Print results ought to be up soon. We already released your mail carrier. Told us what she knew, which wasn’t much. Noticed it because it was foreign but says you get a lotta that kinda stuff.”
“Foreign mail, sure, but nothing like that.”
“Here’s Chaka Kahn now,” Wojciechowski said as Pranav swept in and handed him two manila folders.
“Thank you so much for trying, Detective Woe Jeh House Key,” the Indian said. “You see how easy it is to master a difficult name if you just invest a little time?”
“You’re a better man than me, Pranav,” Wojciechowski said. “Whaddya got?”
“All the detectable prints on the envelope trace back to Ms. Berman, the mail carrier, and postal workers in other cities whose prints are in our system. So, just as we suspected. The originator wiped his or hers off. As for the letter, the only prints are Ms. Berman’s and they’re consistent with unfolding it, not folding it or stuffing it in an envelope. And as I told you, Detective, all the elements appear to be genuinely Middle Eastern, and sent from there. The second file is the translation of the other document you gave me and our best assumptions.”
Wojciechowski gave him Nicole’s phone. “How long would it take to determine if this message was sent from over there too?”
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