The Jewel of Babylon (The Unusual Operations Division Book 1)

by Jacob Hammes

  The man smiled with his black teeth from behind the confining arms of Jeff. A soft, familiar song played quietly over the broken speakers in the shop as the two looked at each other for a moment. Marcus could hear it clearly. It was a love song by one of the teenage heart throb bands that were plaguing the United States. Totally befitting the minor confrontation the two were currently engaged in, Marcus thought.

  “You want truth?” Mr. Chung said in what could hardly be considered English. “You want me tell you truth?”

  “All of it,” Marcus replied, not the least bit surprised the man could speak his language. He knew that there was more to Mr. Chung than his disgusting exterior and show of utter ignorance. Marcus wasn’t one of the few team leaders in the UOD for nothing.

  “Mr. Lambert send us many thing,” his accent was heavy enough that Marcus struggled to comprehend every word he was saying. “He send us thing like book, doll, occasional sword, and rarely an object he say to keep hidden. He own this shop, he collect many thing, and we do not question him.

  “Mr. Lambert told us that we should never question him. He tell us, ‘Do as I say and you will be safe.’ We do as he say and we are safe.”

  “That is until now,” Marcus said. “How do you explain your buddy getting his head blown off?”

  “He did not do as he was told,” Chung kept going. “Mr. Lambert say that if anyone come to shop asking question about anything he send us, to turn them away or to kill them. My colleague tell John, the murderer, what John wanted to know.”

  “What would that be, my friend?” Marcus said.

  “I am at an impasse with myself, now,” Chung said. “If I tell you I, too, may suffer same fate as my colleague. I should kill you where you stand or tell you I know nothing, but I know that you will not die and that you will not leave me in peace.

  “So what do I do? Should I try and fight you all, ask you to kindly leave my store and never return? Or should I tell you what I know and risk death at hands of someone who has turned beneath influence of the object you seek?”

  “We will not let any harm come upon you,” Marcus said, stretching out his hand in a show of good faith. “We did not come here looking for a fight, nor do we wish to provoke you. Truth is, Chung, we need help finding this guy and you’re probably the only one that can help us. If he took something from here, knowing what is missing might help us catch him.”

  “And what of Mr. Lambert? Will you protect me from him?”

  “If need be, yes.” Marcus was serious.

  The man looked into Marcus’ eyes for a moment, weighing him as best he could. He must have liked what he saw because just a moment later, he relaxed and found his seat again.

  “Your resolve is sound. I will tell you what I know of Mr. Lambert and this place. It may not be good enough to help you find your American, but it cannot hurt,” he assured them.

  “When I was boy, my father start this shop. He say that only way to keep family together is to have family business. He was smart man but not smart enough to keep my mother. No matter how he try, my mother left us all.” Chung looked rather pitiful as he related his tale.

  “It was when I was teenager that Mr. Lambert visit our shop. I remember him well; tall man, big round American hat and long German nose. He wore suit, carry suitcase. He ask my father in perfect Mandarin to help him.

  “Mr. Lambert ask my father to help him in business venture. Mr. Lambert send my father artifacts from around the world and people buy them from my father. No question asked, my father sell item Mr. Lambert tell him to. We make lots of money that way.

  “One day, father die and I take over business. Mr. Lambert tell me and my partner same thing. I continue sell his stuff and get paid good money. Only difference, he tell me that there are secret objects I can never tell anyone else about. He show me secret room in my own shop. I did not know this room exist and I was thirty year old.” Chung said this with genuine amazement.

  “Anyway, we sell objects for many year and since then we only receive four new item that must be hidden. Our shop is quiet, in poor part of town, and hidden from view. No one would think we harbor such things. But we do and because we do we keep people safe.

  “Two months ago, we receive something that is valuable from Mr. Lambert. He tell us, this piece special, keep it safe with others. Obviously I do as I am told. I put box in safe place in basement and forget about it like I have always done. My partner, however, he was not so strong.” Chung shook his head in utter sadness.

  “A week ago, he get curious. My partner, he somehow become interested with object in basement. He spend more time than is allowed down there. I tell him to stop. I warn him that bad thing will happen. I thought that he had quit, but I was mistaken.

  “My partner, he bring what Mr. Lambert had just sent us two months before out of the basement and into the back room. I think that he take it out of the box and hold it, but I am not sure. I did not know that he did this until after he was killed. Once I see the broken box in back room, I realize that my friend must have been touching the thing. He succumb to his feelings, he gave up his vow.

  “For this my friend paid a large price. He was killed because Mr. Lambert tell us never to open the containers, never to think twice about what we are to keep hidden. My friend betray us all, but he did not mean to. He had no control over himself. These objects talk to us all, they pull at our souls. That is why we keep them hidden.”

  Marcus felt like he was following the story. For someone who had been so secretive on the phone he was suspiciously open now.

  “What did John steal, anyway?” Marcus tried. “Did you find out what Mr. Lambert sent?”

  “I have such shame in my heart,” the man said, shaking his head in obvious sorrow. “I should have stopped him. I should have come to work that day. I was frightened, scared. I have a child of my own.”

  “What are you talking about,” Jeff said, interjecting after all this time.

  “John came in days before he kill my partner. He knew our secret. He said that he could feel it. He told us that he had come here from Afghanistan and that he need something we are hiding. He knew where it was! We told him to leave, told him to never return, but John say that in two days he would return and kill us both. He say that it called to him, he show me the golden orb and say it would find what he was looking for. He left it here, told us that we would die if we touch the thing.

  “So it sat in back room for two days, my friend and I look at it every second we are here. It is frightening. It make us both uncomfortable, make me very sick. My friend, he never leave the shop once, but since he afraid of dying he does not touch object either. He just sit here, and sit here, and eventually he is shot.

  “I should have made him leave and for that I am full of shame. I could have dragged him from the shop, made him go home. I know that he have wife.”

  “Listen,” Marcus said. “There is no point in beating yourself up over what happened. He made his choice. Like you said, your friend was most likely influenced by the objects in the store. That is why we are here. John, the guy who killed your friend, is also being influenced by something. It’s something very powerful that has him. It’s a very ancient evil. If we don’t find John, he’s going to kill more people and eventually this is going to turn out badly.

  “Either you need to tell us what John stole, or you need to get us in contact with Mr. Lambert.”

  Mr. Chung sat quietly upon his stool for a minute, his lower lip quivering like some child who had just been scolded by his mother. He blinked every few seconds to clear tears from his reddened eyes and made no attempt to wipe them away as they fell down his cheeks and off of his chin. It was truly a pathetic sight but it touched Marcus anyway. He could only guess at what the man was going through. The prospect of losing his job, his livelihood, piled on top of the fact that he had already lost his co-worker must be hard.

  “I can give you Mr. Lambert’s personal cell phone number that he give us for emergency onl
y. I have try to call him few times already, but he does not pick up. Maybe you have better luck. I do not want more people to die and so I will help.”

  “You have my word, Mr. Chung. Thank you for being so brave.”

  Ten minutes later and the group of agents had left the small shop in the crummy parts of Xian and were headed back toward the freeway. Jeff had taken a moment to speak with the authorities and tell them that they would not be making any arrests today. They seemed anxious enough to hit the road and stop tailing the UOD agents.

  Marcus had forgotten his cell phone in the vehicle. When he got back to the car, he was surprised to see ten missed calls. Something had obviously gone wrong while they had been busy wringing the little Chinese man for information. Marcus only hoped it was not something serious.

  The first six numbers were all the same; it was Cynthia’s phone. Something had gone wrong, indeed.

  “Marcus,” she whispered angrily when he called her back. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Judging by the fact that the sun was peeking up over the buildings, he gauged their time in the shop at a little over an hour. Arrangements had to be made with Chung on what would happen if he was put in danger, contacted by Mr. Lambert, or had any new leads or evidence to share with the UOD. Not only that, Marcus had decided it was a good idea to quickly document all the Relics in the basement so they could catalogue the stash in their national database and flag the shop as a potential threat.

  “I’ve been browsing through some local merchandise,” he answered. “What’s up?”

  “We just had a shootout with a cop and we need you to come get us.” Marcus could tell that she was nearly out of breath from the way she was barely audible over the heavy breathing. He suddenly felt alarmed. “There was a policeman poking around the scene that we somehow missed. He sprang an ambush on us. Something is weird about it though. He shot his own partner and barely even reacted when I all but took his foot off with my pistol.”

  “You witnessed him kill his own partner?” Marcus exclaimed. His mind instantly started working out how best to handle the situation. Even if they were suspected in the killing they would be taken off the case. Marcus hoped they could get out of the country before the entire situation blew up.

  “No, but we saw his brains laying all over the ground and his head hanging out of the patrol car,” Cynthia hissed. “We are two miles from the restaurant, to the east, hiding near a Buddhist Temple. The faster you can get us the better, Marcus. We’ve already seen about four cop cars blaring past with lights and sirens. We can stay hidden as long as we need to but once we hit the road we’re going to be vulnerable.”

  Suddenly Marcus knew why their tails were so anxious to leave.

  “Okay, we will be there soon. Stay hidden and call with any updates.” He hung up the phone. Jeff had overheard the conversation and was already hooking a U-turn in the middle of the street. The few cars on the road stopped short of the black Buick and chastised it with loud, obnoxious beeping which Jeff ignored. The tires squealed loudly as he buried the accelerator into the floorboard. Within seconds, they were up to speed again heading the right direction.

  “We need to keep any and all attention directed away from us, Jeff,” Marcus said, picking up the radio to communicate with Bauss back on the jet. If anything bad happened, he wanted that jet primed and ready to go on a second’s notice. It would be a big enough deal if the local government was somehow in the know that one of their squad members had shot a policeman but it would be all together impossible to get out of the country if they were thrown in jail for the infraction.

  The closer they got to the area where Bishop and Cynthia were hiding the denser the traffic became. They had emerged from the poorer part of the city and burst into the higher income region without warning. As the buildings became higher and higher and more high-rise residences became visible, it was obvious the shop was in the safest part of town to hide a stockpile of old dangerous Relics. This guy, Lambert, must have known what he was doing when he opened the place.

  The black Buick drew a little attention amongst the sea of Kia, Toyota, Hyundai, and Hondas but not enough for anyone to look twice. It was not uncommon for someone in the country to be driving through on business or tourism and no one knew exactly where each car came from so Jeff felt safe driving the clunker. Even in the parts of the city where everyone was on foot the vehicle drew no more than a glance of intrigue from the younger people and disdain from the older. Marcus felt good enough about the situation knowing Jeff was about to drive through the police district.

  Soon, they were off the main highway and Jeff was masterfully negotiating the winding side roads of the outer city. The plan was that Jeff would come in from the far eastern side of the city and snatch the pair up as quickly as possible. The vehicle was perfect for the quick pick-up as it lacked a middle console in the front and instead had a skinny middle seat. If they could just pull up to where the cautious duo was hiding, they could hop in and be off without a second thought.

  Three miles from the temple, Marcus’ phone rang. It was an impatiently waiting Cynthia on the other end.

  “Where are you?” she said. “It’s been fifteen minutes and the cops are getting thicker and thicker out here. There must be a patrol every five minutes.”

  “Be there in ten, hold tight,” Marcus reassured. “Just stay out of sight and keep an eye on the road. We will be right there.”

  “Okay,” she said and hung up. It must have been a bad situation if one of the calmest women he had ever met was acting like an impatient teenager. The thought of spending an indeterminate amount of time in a foreign jail cell did not appeal to Marcus, either. If they were stopped, it would take hours to coordinate with both the local government and city police. It would take another few hours, if not days, to confirm the story that the team was in the country working on a murder mystery.

  Trees and steep banks lined the road for the next two miles which provided a good amount of cover. Marcus saw on a map that some parts of the city were nestled up against the Qinling mountain range to the east. More specifically, an outcropping of foothills shot west from the main body of the mountain range like a peninsula and stopped just short of the city making the area look like Central California’s foothill country. It made the drive pleasant but unfortunately robbed the team of strategic places to stop and pick their associates up in any sort of good cover, save utility roads.

  Fortunately, where Bishop and Cynthia decided to take refuge was a point on the local map of interesting tourist locations. There was nothing strange about a woman and her husband checking out a Buddhist temple that just so happened to be an attraction. As long as the local police minded their own business, they would have no problems getting away cleanly.

  Jeff pulled off the pavement onto a gravel driveway and past two huge depictions of Buddha’s head carved from stone. Before them was the temple, obviously ancient but kept in better condition since the boom of tourism. Red tile roofs ended in customary slopes with long curving Asian-style corners. The morning land keepers were busy with their daily cleaning and meticulous pruning of every bush on the premises. They looked up expectantly as the Buick left a trail of dust rising in its wake.

  Cynthia and Bishop emerged from the tree line moments later. Other than some scrapes and bruises from diving for cover and some foliage stuck in their hair and coats, they looked no worse for the wear. Bishop was even in high enough spirits to give the Buick two-thumbs up.

  The look on his face changed suddenly, however, as he scanned their surroundings. A police car had followed them stealthily into the parking lot and was inching forward suspiciously. Bishop had been trained for situations of high stress, just like the rest of them. The newcomer was just curious, at best. There was no possible way he could have known where the two had been hiding or even if they had been involved in the shooting. There were too many people in the city to get so lucky. Instead of over reacting, Bishop grabbed Cynthia’s arm like a lo
ving husband and rested his head on hers as the couple walked nonchalantly across the gravel.

  If the cop noticed the two he did not acknowledge them. He was interested in the Buick. A moment later, the police vehicle came to rest inches behind the black car as his hazard lights flashed away. Jeff cursed to himself, knowing the cop was likely doing a random sweep of the area. It was just his luck to attract attention when he didn’t want it. He had hoped that they would be left alone, but now they would be relying on their ability to act like tourists.

  “Can’t you just drive away?” Marcus asked. “He doesn’t have his sirens on, let’s get out of here.”

  Jeff shook his head in response.

  “No,” he answered. “Cops over here don’t use their lights that often. Mostly, they just put their flashers on and expect you to understand what they want. Just let me do the talking and act ignorant. Tell your teammates to get over here, too. I’m your tour guide for today.”

  Marcus waved down Cynthia and Bishop, who were only ten feet away. They obliged noiselessly, smiling like they were happily in love as they headed to their tourist buddies that were waiting in the group transportation. Unfortunately, their guise of innocence was not enough to make their police friends go away.

  Small but impeccably polished boots made little clouds in the dust as one cop stepped out from both sides. They wore matching pressed uniforms made from cheap blue material. Each of their chests and shoulders were decorated in ribbons and badges, setting them apart from their peers in both experience and rank. They even wore flattened police caps that sat at drastic angles on their black-haired heads. Though they looked young, they had determination in their eyes that Marcus knew. It came from knowing the man or woman who killed one of their own was close by.

  They approached with arrogance, not the demeanor Marcus would have figured anyone looking for a murder suspect would have. He decided the two were already resigned to the fact that they would not be finding who they were looking for and his assumption was correct. They were merely following protocol and from what they had witnessed, this was just a tour of the famous city of Xian.