“Ms. Morgan, welcome to Tel Aviv.”
Cutler was middle-aged, his features creased by the years of worry that marked the career politician, but his brown eyes danced with genuine delight.
“Thank you for seeing us, ambassador,” Rachel said.
“It’s Jeb,” he insisted. “I’m glad that you’re here, although I wish it were under better circumstances.”
Cutler turned and gestured to a wiry little man in a neatly pressed suit who stood behind a table dominating the room. Ethan looked on as Rachel was introduced to Shiloh Rok, a representative from Israel’s Foreign Ministry.
“Welcome, Miss Morgan,” Rok murmured, then glanced over Rachel’s shoulder at Ethan. “I believed that you were traveling alone.”
“This is Ethan Warner,” Rachel said. “He has come to help me here in Israel.”
Cutler’s handshake was firm and dry, but Ethan saw an undercurrent of unease rippling like a cloud shadow behind Rok’s eyes as he watched them. The Israeli reminded him of a bird of prey, hawkish and alert.
“Come,” Cutler said, “let me pour you a drink. Iced tea? Cola? We’ve much to discuss.”
Rachel wasted no time, speaking as soon as Cutler had handed her a glistening glass of Coke and ice as they sat down around the table.
“Has there been any word at all from Lucy?”
“Alas, no,” the ambassador admitted as he handed Ethan a glass and sat down. “We have contacts across the government and security services working on this but so far there hasn’t been a lead.”
Rachel’s face fell, and Ethan realized that she had placed too much hope in this meeting with the ambassador. Cutler caught the look on her face and leaned forward in his chair.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find your daughter no matter how difficult it might be. I apologize for Israel’s inability to act more decisively at this time.”
“The Knesset dare not take the chance of broadcasting your daughter’s disappearance for fear of upsetting the delicate balance achieved with the Palestinians in the current peace negotiations,” Rok said. “I know how much this must distress you.”
“Media attention could increase our chances of finding Lucy,” Ethan pointed out, “either through word of mouth, the bait of a ransom, or even terrorist abductors seeking media sympathy by releasing Lucy.”
Rok shook his head. “That is not a chance that I would like to take with my family, Mr. Warner.”
“And if Lucy’s abductors are trying to influence the peace process?” Ethan challenged. “If you ignore them, and the process goes ahead, they’ll have no further use for her.”
“Again,” Rok said, “an assumption, not an analysis, Mr. Warner.”
“We don’t have the time for indecision or analysis,” Rachel snapped. “Right now we don’t even know if Lucy’s still alive.”
“She is alive,” Cutler said. “This was an organized abduction. In Israel there is always a motive, always a statement to be made.”
Ethan saw Rachel take a breath, controlling herself.
“I understand that it’s quite unusual for there to be no word from abductors regarding a Western captive,” she said.
“It’s downright unlikely,” Ethan chipped in. “Abductions achieve nothing if there’s no political or financial gain.”
Cutler took a thoughtful sip of his drink before replying.
“It’s a problem, all right, but insurgent groups have no illusions as to the ability of Israel’s intelligence services and special forces to liberate Lucy if she is found. They may be laying low.”
“I agree that Israel’s security forces are capable,” Ethan said, “but Israel is a large country and much of it remains sparsely populated. There are thousands of square kilometers of terrain and Lucy could be concealed anywhere out there in the deserts.”
“We do not have the manpower to search for her there,” Rok said.
“What about the excavation site Lucy was working on? That could harbor some clues. Could we visit it?” Ethan suggested.
Cutler was about to answer, but a gruff reply came from behind them.
“That will not be possible.”
Ethan turned in his seat to see a man with severely cropped brown hair, dressed in khaki combat fatigues and a dark-blue beret. Rok stood as the soldier strode into the room and stopped at the opposite end of the table.
“This is Spencer Malik, head of security at Munitions for Advanced Combat Environments—MACE. He is responsible for security in the area where Lucy disappeared.”
Malik nodded curtly but remained silent. Ethan glanced at Malik’s stubbled jaw and defensively folded arms. He looked more like a mercenary than a trained soldier.
“Why can’t we go to Lucy’s dig site?” Ethan asked.
Malik met Ethan’s gaze, the rest of his body remaining as still as though carved from rock.
“The Israeli Air Force is conducting low-level flight training operations from Ramon Air Base in the Negev Desert. Dr. Morgan’s excavation site is within the training area near Masada, and off-limits to civilians.”
“I thought that the area around Masada was used as a tourist destination?”
Malik nodded. “The Masada complex lies outside of the practice range, which is concentrated in the canyons to the west, but sometimes the aircraft have to fly overhead at low level.”
“Lucy found something before she disappeared,” Ethan pressed. “It could be relevant to the reason why she was abducted.”
Malik shook his head.
“Not until the exercise is over in three weeks’ time.”
“The area could have been pulverized by Israeli bombs by then,” Ethan pointed out.
“Such is the price,” Malik replied, “of living and working in a country oppressed by terrorism. We cannot delay our work over one missing foreigner who knew damned well that she shouldn’t have been there.”
“What about Gaza?” Ethan insisted. “I have friends there. If you can arrange visas, then we could travel into the Strip and ask around for—”
“That also will not be possible,” Malik cut in with an insincere smile. “Gaza is too dangerous and it would not be politically prudent for us to request a search within the territory.”
Ethan turned to look at Rok, who shook his head.
“We can’t allow you access to the Gazan territories without risking further abductions or political repercussions from their leadership. I’m sorry we can’t help you further.”
Ethan felt a lance of anger pierce his guts.
“You’re not helping, you’re hindering. Lucy’s been missing for over forty-eight hours and we’re running out of time for political niceties. If you’re right and her abductors are trying to affect the peace process, then Lucy only has twenty-four hours to live. Are you willing to act or not?”
The air in the room suddenly felt thick and heavy. Rok set his glass down and stood up, peering at Rachel over the bridge of his nose.
“We will continue to try to resolve this tragedy, but I must ask that for security’s sake you do not inform the media of your daughter’s disappearance.”
Rachel appealed quickly to Ambassador Cutler as Shiloh Rok turned and left the room.
“If anything is heard, you will let me know as soon as possible?”
“Of course,” Cutler promised.
Ethan watched as two young men in smart suits with cropped hair and a military bearing appeared in the doorway and Spencer Malik gestured to them.
“Agents Cooper and Flint here will act as your escort. Obey them at all times. They are here to protect you.”
With that, Malik turned and left the room.
“Brilliant work,” Rachel snapped at Ethan.
“We’re wasting our time,” Ethan said, gesturing to where Rok had been sitting. “He was never going to help us.”
“How the hell do you know?”
“Been here before.”
“And you think that they’re conspiring to ensure that I never fin
d my daughter?”
Ambassador Cutler spoke quietly. “They’re not conspiring. I suspect that they genuinely fear any further abductions from within their borders, or the media uncovering the story and upsetting the peace process with baseless conjecture or accusations.”
Rachel turned to Ethan with a venomous look in her eyes. “So, what’s your next genius move?”
Ethan ignored her sarcasm and thought for a moment.
“We talk to people who knew what Lucy was doing out in the desert, starting with Hans Karowitz. The Negev isn’t entirely devoid of life and Spencer Malik said that Lucy’s dig site was near Masada. If we’re lucky, Karowitz may know something that Shiloh Rok doesn’t.”
Spencer Malik walked outside the embassy and lit a cigarette, watching as a stocky Arab man emerged from a car nearby and approached. The index finger of his left hand was missing, an injury Malik had once been told he’d suffered in the Balkans at the hands of Chechen rebels years before. Now, he wore black leather gloves to conceal the disfigurement.
“I have work for you, Rafael,” Malik said as he walked down the steps.
“Something else that you can’t handle?” Rafael murmured in a soft voice touched with an Arabic lilt.
“Find out what you can about an Ethan Warner,” Malik said, ignoring the jibe. “The name seems familiar to me. Get this guy’s life history as soon as possible and let me know what you find.”
“It shall be done,” Rafael said, glancing at the building behind them. “But why would you be concerned with an American? Byron Stone will consider it a waste of resources and …”
Malik looked down at the Arab as they reached a large black SUV parked nearby, puffing his chest out as he spoke. “Byron Stone pays you to do what I damn well tell you to do. I just saw Ethan Warner insult the Foreign Ministry’s representative. If he’s willing to do that, then he’s likely to cause more trouble. Get on it.”
HEBREW UNIVERSITY OF JERUSALEM
GIVAT RAM CAMPUS
The Hebrew University of Jerusalem lay outside the Old City near the district of Rechavia, perched atop Mount Scopus. Ethan guided Rachel around the immense campus using a hastily scribbled set of directions, their MACE escort following, and after retracing his steps more than once finally located the Berman Building.
The Natural History Collections and Institute of Archaeology was enveloped in a hushed atmosphere as Ethan led Rachel through a maze of corridors, Cooper and Flint following in ominously silent formation until they reached a door bearing a plaque with the name Doctor Hans Karowitz etched into the surface. The door was half-open, the room apparently empty.
“He was Lucy’s mentor, according to her e-mails,” Rachel said, peering into the room.
Ethan knocked gently on the door, but there was no response. He walked inside, Rachel and their agents following behind.
The office was like a miniature lecture hall, complete with a lectern. Chairs were stacked neatly to one side beneath broad windows overlooking a sculptured garden. The room was silent, dust motes winking in the musty air as they floated between two rows of large display cases that dominated the rear of the office.
Ethan walked past the cases, each as tall as he was. Within each was the skeleton of a human or, more precisely, an ancient species of hominin. Ethan looked in fascination at each of them as he passed by, each specimen progressively taller and more recognizably human than its predecessor.
As he rounded the far end of the first row of cabinets, he found himself looking at the back of an old man who was staring into one of the second-row displays against the wall. From Ethan’s perspective, the old man’s reflection was ghoulishly superimposed over the ancient remains of a Neanderthal within the case.
“Dr. Karowitz?”
The old man seemed startled at the sound of Ethan’s voice. Ethan extended a hand and introduced Rachel. At his realization of who Rachel was, Karowitz’s eyes saddened.
“I am so sorry to hear of what has happened,” he said.
“Do you know where my daughter is?” Rachel asked.
“No, but there is no shortage of likely candidates for her kidnapping, creationist groups being the most likely to—”
Before he could finish, Agent Cooper barged in. “That is an unsubstantiated comment with no basis in reality. Keep your opinions to yourself.”
“Shut up and let him speak,” Ethan snapped.
Cooper’s jaw twisted around a shit-eating grin as he rested one hand on a Sig 9 mm pistol at his waist.
“Accept my judgment or you’ll be on the next plane back home, Warner, understood?”
Rachel looked at Karowitz. “Please, just tell us what you can.”
Hans Karowitz sighed, glancing warily at the MACE agents as he spoke.
“Creationists believe that the universe was created in seven days,” he said softly. “Yet the Torah, the Old Testament as recorded by the Hebrews, makes no such claim. It refers only to seven ‘periods of time,’ or yom, which meant aeon in ancient Hebrew. The error appeared as a result of translation between Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. Therefore, the supposed creationist age of the Earth as less than ten thousand years is baseless.”
“What difference does it make?” Ethan asked.
Karowitz smiled faintly.
“Almost every major faith on our planet has a creation myth, in which their devotees believe without question regardless of evidence to the contrary. But it may be that such myths found their origin not in fantasy but in a sort of distorted historical record.”
Ethan glanced at Rachel before replying.
“I thought that science would oppose such a concept. You think that religious myths have a genuine historical origin too?”
“Possibly,” Karowitz qualified. “How much do you know about human evolution?”
Ethan, caught off balance, shrugged. “We evolved from apes, right?”
Karowitz spread his arms to encompass the room around them. “Look around, you’re surrounded by examples of evolution. These are the fragments of a human story that began eight million years ago in Africa’s Great Rift Valley and continues to this day.”
“To this day?” Ethan asked. “I thought that we were the last of our kind, the best of our species?”
“Evolution does not have a goal, it’s driven by unguided natural selection,” Karowitz said. “It is constantly in motion and simply represents change over time. It is driven in biological species by random genetic mutations and environmental influences that govern how species adapt to their environments, and thus how efficiently they can reproduce and pass their characteristics on to their offspring.”
“I never understood how one species can suddenly change into another,” Rachel said.
The Belgian shook his head and whistled through his teeth.
“They don’t. Creationist groups have long spread such rumors in an attempt to deceive uncritical minds into believing that humans are special, the product of a god. For decades they have deliberately spread disinformation, misquoted scientists and invented conspiracies, or claimed that evolution is only a theory, despite knowing that the word in science doesn’t mean the same as in daily life. You don’t hear them criticize Einstein’s theory of general relativity, another well-proven foundation of science that underpins everything from space flight to nuclear power and GPS systems.”
Karowitz gestured to the cases beside them, filled with ancient human skeletons.
“Part of the problem is that we’re not familiar with geological and evolutionary timescales. Humans live for perhaps a century, but life has evolved over billions of years, and only those who have a religious motive continue to deny what stares them in the face.”
“So you think that they’re afraid that what Lucy found might cost them their influence, these creationist groups?” Ethan hazarded.
“Exactly,” Karowitz said. “You said that we evolved from the apes, but that’s another creationist myth. We evolved alongside the apes and continue to do so. Our evolu
tionary paths diverged from a common ancestor some eight million years ago, eventually diversifying into some twenty different homonin species. But by the last million years or so, there were only four species of man left walking the Earth: Homo heidelbergensis, from whom Homo erectus and Homo neanderthalensis evolved, and our direct ancestors, Homo sapiens, who dwelled in Africa. As a result of natural selection, only we, Homo sapiens, remain to this day.”
“And our ancestors were what Lucy was originally looking for?” Ethan asked.
Karowitz nodded.
“Under my mentorship, Lucy made some incredible finds out in the southern Negev over a very short period of time. But she also began undertaking work for a private group, and somewhere out there she found something entirely different.”
“Something that was not one of our ancestral species,” Ethan said.
“No,” Karowitz said, “what Lucy found was—”
“Unknown,” Cooper interrupted sharply again.
“We have e-mails from Lucy,” Rachel said to Cooper, “detailing the remains and their appearance and—”
“And I get e-mails every day telling me I’ve won the Nigerian lottery,” Cooper rumbled. “But I haven’t started showering in frigging champagne.”
Ethan ignored Cooper, barging in front of him to speak to Karowitz. “What makes you so sure the remains were not human?”
“The physiology Lucy described was remarkably different,” Karowitz said. “The specimen’s bone structure was far more robust than a human and the chest plate was fused, therefore its lungs would have differed from ours. Its bones were latticed, something known to have been common in some dinosaurs to save weight, and it also bore an extended cranial cavity that may have served a communicative purpose by infrasound, again a known adaption in some species on Earth.”
Ethan nodded. “And you think that this species might have been responsible for interfering with human evolution?”
“Not our evolution,” Karowitz cautioned, “but our developmental history.” He looked at Rachel and began quoting. “‘And Azadel brought the men knowledge, and taught them of the metals and the fields and the things of the earth, and made them strong …’”
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