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VAN R. MAYHALL JR.
Copyright © 2016 Van Mayhall Jr.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All of the other characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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ISBN: 978-1-5320-0718-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-5320-0723-1 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-5320-0719-4 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016915566
iUniverse rev. date: 10/13/2016
CONTENTS
PART I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
PART II
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
PART III
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Acclamation for Cloe Lejeune Series by Van R. Mayhall Jr.
Judas the Apostle
A thriller with theological underpinnings, set both in steamy south Louisiana and in the Old City of Jerusalem … a fascinating fictional exploration of the least understood and most maligned figure in the salvation story … this is the most original work of fiction I have edited.
—Catherine L. Kadair, freelance editor
Most Christians and many religious scholars accept the story that Judas betrayed Jesus for money. But did he? The author offers the reader a religious mystery every bit as gripping as The Da Vinci Code. Set in south Louisiana and covering three continents, this crisply written debut novel is a page-turner full of suspense, with a fascinating look at the motives of one of history’s most loathed villains. Judas the Apostle presents the possibility of alternative groundbreaking biblical history that is also a compelling read.
—Jim Brown, author and syndicated talk show host (produced by Clear Channel Communications and syndicated by Genesis Communications, Minneapolis, Minnesota)
An edge-of-the-chair thriller, a stunning history and geography lesson, and an unparalleled glimpse into the past of one of history’s most maligned figures … Judas the Apostle tells a great and truly plausible story, against the rich and often diverse tapestry of Louisiana, America’s most colorful and mysterious region.
—Bill Profita, radio talk show host, 107.3 FM, Baton Rouge, Louisiana
This is a page-turner with both mind and muscle. Its thrills and intrigue are offered up with an equal dose of historic heft. It carries you along as it makes you reconsider the well-worn stories you thought you understood.
—Anne Dubuisson Anderson, writing and publishing consultant
Mayhall, a Baton Rouge attorney, has done the one thing in this book that is essential to keep a thriller thrilling: he has created a bad guy who is truly evil. The Kolektor lives in a bunker under a fake antiquity store in Jerusalem and he is without conscience. He cares only for what he wants. Mayhall has a clear and uncluttered writing style well-suited to the thriller genre. His plot is good. He does his homework on the history of his subject.
—Greg Langley, “Judas Has Compelling Plot, Attractive Local Setting,” Advocate, October 9, 2012
“Louisiana Author Spins Thriller about Judas Iscariot”
—Hammond Daily Star, November 9, 2012
The reader is transported to exotic locales throughout time, including ancient Masada, North Africa during World War II and modern-day Jerusalem and Lyon, France. South Louisiana readers will enjoy iconic venues in the book that include numerous scenes at LSU in Baton Rouge, Madisonville, Lake Pontchartrain and the Tchefuncte River.
—Point Coupee Banner, “Louisiana Author Examines the Role of Judas in New Thriller,” November 22, 2012
Van R. Mayhall, Jr. has penned a fascinating thriller packed with twists and turns. Ancient language expert, Dr. Clotile LeJeune’s quiet life is shaken when she learns her estranged father has been murdered. She travels to her home town to unlock the mysteries of a 2000-year-old oil jar inscribed with the name “Judas Iscariot” that her father left her. The race for answers takes her on a dangerous quest across three continents in order to discover the identity of Judas Iscariot.
&n
bsp; —Legatus magazine, February 2013
Mayhall has spun a highly original, suspenseful and atmospheric thriller. It is a savvy story of academia, archeology and theology, but you can also taste the warm Louisiana thread that runs through it like a good flavor—the Tchefuncte River, the LSU Campus, the elements of close family ties and the influence of religion.
The story weaves a mystical spell in the timeless story of good against evil that is hard to resist; Judas the Apostle joins my personal rank of books that I call one-sitting reads.
—Jeanne Frois, “Worth Watching: Judas the Apostle,” Louisiana Life, March–April 2013
A linguistics professor’s inherited relic sets an arms dealer on her trail in Mayhall’s debut religious thriller. The conversations are weighty but never burdensome thanks to thriller genre conventions: a formidable villain with a penchant for taking artifacts that aren’t his; a murder, a kidnapping and a face-to-face showdown; and lots of suspense—indeed, simply opening the jar takes quite some time. The brilliantly open ending steers clear of definitive answers but provides adequate closure. A solid thriller with an invigorating religious theme.
—Kirkus Reviews, June 2013
Page after page, Mayhall’s dialogue and crafting of suspense draw readers into the mystery of a two-thousand-year-old jar and the murders it has incited.
A fast-paced, changes-at-every-turn intellectual thriller, Judas the Apostle is a quality novel that grabs and won’t let go until the final page is turned. From the first chapter, where protagonist Cloe Lejeune’s elderly father is murdered, through the discovery of what lies in the two-thousand-year-old jar that has sat on her father’s mantel her whole life, the novel takes the reader on a ride of discovery as each chapter unfolds.
—ForeWord Review, Clarion Review. Five Stars (out of five).
The Last Sicarius
For fans of the award-winning Judas the Apostle and newcomers to the Cloe Lejeune series, Mayhall once again delivers a smart, fast-paced thriller with exotic landscapes, a fascinating dose of biblical history, an intrepid heroine, conniving evildoers, twists and turns, and just the right touch of humor that will keep you turning the pages.
—Anne Dubuisson Anderson, writing and publishing consultant
A rare opportunity to engross yourself in an historical thriller that takes you from New Orleans to the Vatican to the Holy Land … The action is often intense, and the characters leave you waiting to read about their next adventure. The Last Sicarius truly grabs you and doesn’t let you go until the final page.
—Bill Profita, radio talk show host, 107.3 FM, Baton Rouge, Louisiana
An exhilarating companion piece to the first in the series.
—Kirkus Reviews, September 15, 2014
To Mama Lo, now and forever
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is to acknowledge, with love, the efforts of my father, Van R. Mayhall, who passed away at the age of ninety-five in January 2015. From my very first novel, Judas the Apostle, Dad read every page of every version. Judas went through twenty rewrites. He did the same with The Last Sicarius and now with 7. In fact, I delivered the last three chapters of 7 to Dad four days before he died. I know he finished the manuscript by the way he always marked paragraphs as he read them. Dad, I hope you enjoyed it and rest in peace.
This is the revelation given by God to Jesus Christ so
that he could tell his servants about the things which
are now to take place very soon … Happy the
man who reads this prophecy, and happy those who
listen to him, if they treasure all it says, because the
Time is close.
—Revelations, chapter 1, the Jerusalem Bible, 1966
PART
I
Gathering
Surely every man walketh in a vain show;
Surely they are disquieted in vain;
He heapeth up riches, and knoweth not
Who shall gather them.
—Psalm 39:6
CHAPTER
1
2017
Madisonville, Louisiana
Clotile Lejeune leaned over her computer and studied digital images of very old writings. The ancient languages expert reached around to massage her overworked neck muscles; as she did so, a lock of her prematurely silver hair swept across her face. Cloe’s blue eyes blazed briefly as she thought of the night her deep chestnut hair began to turn. That was the night she spent in the Tunisian mountains with her sisters, the Sicarii. She had learned things that night that changed her forever.
She sat on her front porch in the warm Louisiana evening, the sun having long since set without her notice. A cooling breeze drove away the pockets of heat, and lightning bugs fired in the distance. Although she had been educated in Seattle and lived there for many years, she was a south Louisiana girl and had grown up in the house on the Tchefuncte River. She was home.
She had been at work on the translation since early morning, constantly interrupted by various bulletins about happenings across the world. The news was uniformly bad, consistent with what she had seen and read over the last few months. Now, however, it somehow seemed worse. There was more violence, and the viciousness of such was elevated. There were reports of natural disasters such as storms, floods—and even a volcano eruption in the Far East. Disease in Africa was epidemic again. Food was in short supply in some areas, with famine multiplying the health problems. Populations in several countries were stressed and panicky.
Cloe had been at a particular passage in the journal all day and felt she was on the verge of something. The journal was not a bound volume but a digitalized shoe box of scraps culled from the second jar the Sicarii had left with her. It dated from the first century, and the translation was difficult. Hell, even trying to decipher the handwriting in a variety of ancient languages was a challenge. It was not only a translation problem but a jigsaw puzzle. Once she had some idea of what was said, where did it fit in? She had been working on it for months—no, she had been at it for years. Where had the time gone? Still, during that time, she had made monumental discoveries that added to the knowledge of the ancient period in question, namely the three years before the death of Jesus Christ.
More and more, she believed this to be the long-hypothesized but missing detailed account of Christ’s public ministry. She had arrived at a point where there seemed to be a conversation chronicled between Christ and someone she could not identify—but whom she thought might be St. John. Yet somehow this was different, possibly even prophetic. From what she had been able to decipher, something terrible was …
As she stared at the symbols, it suddenly hit her.
“I must call Albert. I have to get to Rome!” she said.
CHAPTER
2
Des Moines, Iowa
Zachary Landry glanced down for the hundredth time, nervously fingering the business card he held in his hand. Six hours ago, he had left his downtown office in his home of Des Moines to go to lunch at a nearby café. Now he was on I-55 headed for Memphis, Tennessee, in his old Saab. He was ultimately bound for New Orleans, but he had no idea why. He had no luggage and had eaten only candy bars purchased at gas stations along the way.
There was another person in the car—the girl he had picked up somewhere outside of Saint Louis. He had never picked up a hitchhiker before, but when he saw her standing in the rain, something told him to stop. Other than saying she was going to New Orleans, she hadn’t said much. Now she slept, head on the door panel, covered with Zack’s jacket.
Looking down again at the card, he recalled the spooky walk from his office toward the café: he never arrived at the eatery. His stomach reminded him of that every few minutes. The candy bars had not helped.
Earlier that day, he had left the office tower where he was second in command in the IT department of a manufacturing bu
siness. At twenty-nine, he had a degree in computer science from Northwestern and had earned just enough seniority to avoid the layoffs. He was proud to be the number two at his age, but then again, when he thought about it, there were no old guys in the IT world.
He had turned right onto Church Street, headed for Faye’s, a diner that served a variety of sandwiches and a couple of daily plate lunch options. He liked the place because he could sit by himself and read his Wall Street Journal without feeling geeky. Zack absorbed the technical information from the Journal. What little extra money he had went into a self-advised investment fund that was doing pretty well, all things considered.
It was an unseasonable scorcher of a day, with the temperature somewhere near one hundred. He found himself wishing he had worn a golf shirt to work rather than khaki slacks, a long-sleeve dress shirt, and a black blazer. There had been a series of such days in the last week. Something about El Niño or whatever, Zack thought. But there was more than just the heat. The light was weird—like right before a dry thunderstorm. The streetscape had a yellowish tint, and heat waves rippled off the pavement. He half-expected to see a rabid dog come snarling up the street, biting and snapping at the oppressive air.
He looked around but could see no one else out. Perhaps the heat had kept them in, or maybe it was the rampant unemployment. He was rethinking his decision to go out into the heat. Maybe he should have grabbed something out of one of the vending machines in the basement. Well, “in for a penny, in for a pound,” as his mother had been fond of saying, and he continued toward the restaurant.
Suddenly, he saw movement ahead of him about a block away. A figure headed in his direction. The thing appeared to lumber along in a slow shuffle as it neared. Zack thought he was going to be panhandled by another one of the growing number of vagrants inhabiting the downtown area. He had already given once that day.
While the undulations of heat waves obscured any detail, Zack could tell there was something wrong with the man—from the size and posturing of the creature, he was sure it was a man. He was a big guy—very big. As the distance closed between them, he began to see the figure more clearly. The man was dressed in denim overalls, with a long-sleeved flannel shirt. Zack himself had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves a couple of blocks back. He must be on fire under those clothes.