“That’s ingenious. I mean that’s brilliant. It could work.”
“I wish I had thought of it earlier. I could have checked the chest before we packed it up and sent it off to the Institute.”
“You should tell Nuri this.”
“I’ll let you tell him. He’s your beau.”
“Don’t go there, David. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sorry. I’m afraid being surly has become my default.”
“You weren’t always that way, you know. You used to be different.”
“People change, Amber. Life changes them.”
“Sorry, David, I don’t buy it. I believe people change because they want to or because they allow it.”
“Are you a psychologist now?”
“I don’t need to be. You used to be like him.” Amber pointed down the hill where Ben-Judah stood, facing west toward Jerusalem. He had slipped on a prayer robe with a hood that covered his head. David could see a small box with leather straps attached to his forehead and another phylactery tied to the back of his hand. He stood alone and with his hands raised. David had seen Ben-Judah pray many times. Like many religious Jews, he prayed three times a day, usually in private. Out here there was no privacy.
“I was never Jewish.” Chambers couldn’t pull his gaze away from his mentor.
Ben-Judah must have come to the end of his prayers. He removed the phylacteries and uncovered his head. He exhibited great care with the objects and the prayer shawl. Chambers watched as he walked to one of the Toyotas and placed the property in the backseat.
“You know what I mean. You used to be a man of prayer, a person of belief. That’s the David I fell in love with—the one who prayed; the one who studied the Bible for more than archaeological and historical clues. You used to be so—”
“Please don’t say I was on fire for the Lord. I hate that phrase. Always have.”
“I was going to say committed.”
“Now you think I need to be committed. Right?” He was the only one who laughed at his joke.
“What you need to do is find yourself, and there’s only one way to do that: find your faith.”
“Well, if that’s all there is to it, then no problem.”
“More sarcasm. Since when has that become your currency? Look at Ben-Judah. That man has been through more than the rest of the team combined. He is considered one of the best Holy Land archaeologists in the world. People travel from all around the world to sit in his classes and to shovel dirt at one of his digs. Look, he even pulled you from your academic cave. Yet every day, several times a day, he prays. For him, archaeology is an act of worship and service. It’s that way for me too. It used to be that way for you.”
Ben-Judah started up the side of the hill. He seemed lost in thought.
“Amber, I don’t need a sermon.”
She stood. “Oh yes you do. You need that and a lot more.”
She started back to the tunnel. Chambers rose, brushed off his trousers and turned to follow, intent on apologizing yet again, when he saw Nuri approaching. He brushed by Amber and marched to Chambers.
“Did Amber tell you my plan?”
“She did. I think you’ll come up empty, but you should go ahead with it.”
“Then you need to move your stuff. Professor Ben-Judah wants to watch the test.”
“What stuf?”
“I have Simon and Rubin moving the compressed-air tanks closer to the lower end of the stairs so we can use the pneumatic hammer if need be, but before I can run another GPR test, I need the whole area clear. That includes your duffel bag. It’s in the way, and it is not my job to move it.”
“It’s not my bag, Nuri.” Chambers started to the tunnel. He wanted to see the GPR results as they came in.
“It still needs to be moved.”
Chambers left Nuri behind and caught up to Amber. They walked into the tunnel and down the stairs, careful to avoid the piles of dirt and broken stone. Near the base of the stairs they saw Simon and Rubin struggling with one of the compressed-air tanks. Cove was with them but not offering any help.
“Man, this is heavy.” Rubin set his end down. “I became an academician to avoid physical labor.”
“You picked the wrong discipline, Joel,” Chambers said. “Archaeology isn’t for softies.” He looked at the base of the wall. “Edward, is this some of your photography equipment?”
Cove turned his hands palms up and shrugged. “Not mine, boss. I thought it belonged to one of you guys or one of the workers.”
Chambers looked up searching for Nuri, but the man had yet to return to the tunnel. Then at the entry, he saw two shadowy forms. Nuri was talking to Ben-Judah. “Anyone know where Landau is?”
“Last I saw him, he was headed to one of the portable outhouses,” Cove said. “I suppose even someone like him needs a bio break now and again.”
“You think it might belong to him?” Amber stood at the back of the small group.
“Could be,” Chambers said.
“Well, someone should check with him, and it might as well be me.” Amber jogged up the stairs and out the entrance, stepping aside when she met Ben-Judah coming down the tunnel.
Chambers watched her go and wondered if he owed her yet another apology. He watched Amber stop as another figure entered the tunnel. It took a moment, but he soon recognized Amber’s aide, Elizabeth. The perky grad student trotted down the steps, moving around the slower Ben-Judah. When she reached the bottom, she said, “Dr. Rodgers wants me to videotape the test. Can I set up?”
“Just leave things as they are. If they belong to Landau, then it could be filled with secret spy stuff and a rocket launcher.”
“Pretty small rocket launcher,” Simon said.
“I was making a funny. I’ll be right back.” Chambers started up the stairs to meet Ben-Judah.
“I don’t know what the big deal is,” Rubin said. “Let’s just move it out of the way.”
Chambers turned just as Rubin picked up the bag. “I said to leave things alone—”
He heard a loud click and the sound sent scorching terror through him before he could think why. “Run!” Chambers spun and sprinted toward his mentor.
There was light.
There was heat.
There was a roar.
Chambers was airborne, propelled by fire-laced air.
A heartbeat before the explosion, David Chambers had jumped toward Ben-Judah, his arms spread. He landed on the older man as the force and fury of the blast rolled over him. Bits of rock struck his back like bullets from an automatic rifle.
He felt no pain; just the slap of the concussion, which hit from behind like a giant fist.
He landed on Ben-Judah, shielding him with his body, but was on his feet a blink later, pulling the man to his feet, then lifting him over a shoulder.
Through the smoke, through the dust, Chambers ran as fast as his adrenaline-fueled legs would carry him. He had one thought: get Ben-Judah out of the tunnel.
A glance up revealed a ceiling spider-webbed with cracks. Bits of stone began to fall. Chambers pressed on harder.
“God no. Please God. Let me get him out.”
His back began to complain from stress and injury. He didn’t listen. Step followed step up the steep stairs.
A knee buckled. “No. God. No.” He righted himself and kept plodding upward.
More rocks fell, but he couldn’t hear them. The ringing in his ears drowned out all other sounds. Something warm and sticky dripped into his eyes.
A meter felt like a mile. Every step seemed five times taller than the last time he had ascended them.
The air was foul with a stench he fought not to identify. He knew but didn’t want to know.
Again a knee buckled under the weight of the old man and the physical strain of running up stairs.
Ben-Judah hadn’t spoken, hadn’t moved. Tears ran from Chambers’s eyes. If something happened to the old man, if … if … No. He wou
ldn’t allow it.
The corridor had been plunged into darkness the moment the flash of the explosion dissipated. Chambers could barely make out the edge of each tread. Several times he caught a toe and nearly went face first to the stone. Each time he caught himself.
Something in his leg snapped and pain scorched up his spine. He forced one foot to follow another.
A few meters from the opening, the shape of a man appeared. Chambers could no longer see well, but the shape was familiar. The figure moved toward him.
Ben-Judah’s weight on his shoulder disappeared. Chambers looked up and into Landau’s face. His lips were moving but Chambers could only hear the chain-saw roar in his ears. He stumbled forward to the entry, trying to make his brain work, demanding his thoughts to line up into something cogent.
Fresh air poured over him as he stepped into the daylight.
Familiar hands grabbed his arm and steadied him. Amber stood next to him. She was speaking, but he heard nothing. She tried to lead him away from the tunnel, when his mind found a forward gear. “The others.”
He turned, but Amber wouldn’t let go. He started forward again, but she pulled him back.
“Let … let me go.” He pulled free and started for the black maw of the tunnel, fearful of what he might find. With a glance to the side, he saw the large frame of Landau laying Ben-Judah on the ground. He also saw the security man motion for him to stay away from the tunnel. Chambers turned his gaze back to the opening.
Nuri appeared from his right and tried to step in his way. Chambers rewarded him by finding enough strength to shove the man to the ground.
Darkness hovered at the periphery of his vision.
With diminishing vision, waning strength, and ears that no longer worked, Chambers marched into the darkness.
Time ceased. He had no memory of the steps he had taken to the bottom of the tunnel or how long it took. Nor did he recall when he started weeping. One by one he removed a stone from the fallen ceiling. With each stone he pulled from the pile that kept him from his team, he called out a name.
“Joel … Simon … Cove … Lizzy … Joel …”
Amber stepped to his side. In the darkness, through the ringing in his ears, he could hear her sobs running counterpoint to his own.
Another stone landed on the ground, and Chambers waited for the rest of the ceiling to fall, then he realized Amber was digging next to him. A moment later, Nuri was at his other side.
Ten rocks later, maybe twenty, Chambers didn’t know, the tunnel went completely black, and his face hit the pile of stones before him.
Everything disappeared.
TWENTY
Darkness gave way to bright light. Numbness gave way to pain. Chambers wished for the former. It took a few moments for the world to make sense to him again. The tunnel was gone; the hard stone upon which he had fallen had been replaced by a soft bed with the whitest sheets he had ever seen.
Then he saw the bed rail. A hospital bed rail.
He blinked several times, forcing his eyes to clear. Last he remembered, his eyes were full of dust and grit from … from what? Explosion. He tried to rise, but a hand pressed him back to the bed. “No you don’t, Dr. Chambers. I’m not done yet.”
A male voice. It came from behind him, calm, sure.
“Where am I?”
“Beth Israel Hospital in Jerusalem.” Accent saturated the words.
“How did I get here?” He tried to turn to face the doctor.
“Stay still, please, I’m trying to do a little medical art back here.”
“What kind of art?”
“Stitching. I’m an artist when it comes to stitching up wounds. I have a reputation to protect.”
Memories were coming back like jigsaw pieces, leaving him to put things back together. “I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s twenty-first-century drugs. This won’t take long.”
Chambers relaxed on his side and tried not to move. He decided he didn’t want to see what the doctor was doing.
“I’m Dr. Karlin. You are a lucky man, Dr. Chambers. Fortunate indeed.”
“I’m not feeling all that lucky. How bad … I mean … wounds …” It occurred to him that he could hear more clearly.
“You’re going to live, but you’ll have a few scars to frighten the grandkids with.”
“I was hoping for something a little more medical.”
“I can do that, but I’ll keep it simple. I imagine you’re still a little groggy. Your injuries are minor compared to what they could be. You presented with second-degree burns to the back of your neck and arms. Not serious, but your bed sheets will probably feel like sandpaper. There is some blistering but not much. We’ll send you home with some ointment to help with the surface pain. You also received several impact wounds to the back. There’s some bruising, and I had to dig out a few stone shards. All superficial, though it won’t feel that way once the local wears off. While you were out, we did a few scans and x-rays. No broken bones, but you damaged a tendon in your right knee. I imagine you noticed that when you did it.”
“I seem to recall a massive, stomach-turning pain.”
“That would be the reason. We’re going to treat that with an elastic brace since the tendon is still attached. There is a good chance, however, that you may be facing a leg surgery in your future. How’s your hearing?”
“Some ringing still.”
“That should pass with time. Hopefully. Sometimes tinnitus is permanent. Only time will tell. You’ll be happy to know that your eardrums are intact. Which surprises me. From what I hear, I expected to see more damage than I do. Again, you are a lucky man.”
“Dr. Ben-Judah—”
“I didn’t work on him. I have no news for you.”
“How do I find out?”
“I’ll see what I can learn, but that may take a little time, especially if he’s had to go in surgery.”
Chambers tried to rise again. This time the hand pushed him down with more force. “I told you to stay still. I didn’t say they took him to surgery. I don’t know what they’ve done with him. I just know he’s not in the ER, so maybe they’re taking x-rays and a CAT scan. Really, it could be anything.”
Glancing around, Chambers was struck by how similar hospitals could be. If he didn’t know he was in Jerusalem, he could be in almost any hospital in the Western world. His bed was kept private by a curtain with pale-blue stripes. The polished floor reflected the overhead fluorescent lights. The smell was like every hospital he had visited. Until this moment, he had never been a patient.
“David?” A familiar, tentative voice pushed into the small ER treatment area.
“Over here, Amber.”
The curtain moved. “May I come in?”
“Doctor?”
“Fine by me. Your wife?”
“No … colleague.”
“Well, I’m done here.”
Karlin rounded the bed. Chambers had pictured a squat doctor with a head of dark hair. Instead he saw a man in his thirties, tall, thin, and completely bald. He pulled the curtain back enough to let Amber in. She clasped her hands in front of her and made Chambers think of a shy schoolgirl.
She smiled and the room brightened. “They tell me you’re going to be all right.” She looked at Karlin. “Is that right, Doctor?”
“He should be fine. We’re going to keep him overnight for observation. There are no signs of a concussion or internal injuries, but we need to be sure.” Karlin watched them exchange glances. “I’ll let you two talk.” To Chambers he said, “I’m going to prescribe some antibiotics. Be sure to take them all. I’ll also make sure you get some pain relievers. We’ll have you in a room soon.” He excused himself and left.
Amber looked hollow, cored out. Dust clung to her hair, and she smelled of something acrid, something he assumed had to do with the explosives used to bring down the tunnel. Red, angry-looking scratches covered her hands, evidence of her barehanded effort to save those who were be
yond salvation.
She studied him as much as he examined her. For the next few moments, all communication was nonverbal. Words failed. No string of terms could be composed to relate the darkness they shared.
Amber moved closer and took Chambers’s hand. Hers felt hot to the touch. She squeezed as if confirming that she wasn’t looking at a ghost. Then “Oh David.” A flood of tears carried the rest of the message. His vision blurred, and he turned away, hoping the breaking of eye contact would allow him to keep his composure. It didn’t.
He pulled his hand away and covered his face. The flesh and bones of his hands were powerless to stop the outpouring of a soul ripped in half.
Time stopped. A minute may have passed, maybe an hour. Chambers couldn’t tell and didn’t care.
“It should have been me.” It took herculean effort to push the words out.
“Don’t talk that way.” She drew a hand under her eyes. “I thought I lost you.”
“I … I sensed something was wrong, but a bomb. It just never occurred to me. I was going to find Landau—”
“There’s no way you could have known. No way. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I’m the team leader. Their safety is my responsibility.” He returned his gaze to her. Her lower lip trembled. The sight of it ground to dust a heart already shattered.
“Not from bombs. Sure, you oversee dig site safety, but Landau and his people are responsible for our personal safety.”
He repositioned himself on his side. “There’s no hope, is there? For the others?”
“Landau is back at the scene. The army is there doing rescue work—”
“Answer my question.”
This time Amber looked away. “No. They’re dead. I don’t see how they can’t be. Gone.” She paused. “You saved the professor. I don’t know how you carried him up the tunnel and to safety.”
“How is he? He was unconscious when I—”
Amber raised a hand to her mouth.
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