by Andrew Linke
“Are you familiar with the Old Testament?”
Oliver nodded.
“Specifically, the tale of the Exodus from Egypt, when the children of Israel threw off their chains of servitude and began the long journey to the promised land.”
Oliver nodded again and gestured for the Senator to continue.
“The Bible speaks of many wondrous events during that time. Plagues. Burning bushes. Pillars of fire. All signs from God that the Pharaoh must, ‘let my people go’ as Moses put it.”
“I’m familiar with the story, Senator. All Sunday school stories and historical studies aside, I’ve seen The Ten Commandments over a dozen times.”
Senator Wheeler smiled at that, and continued. “Then I don’t have to go into detail about the origins of the legends concerning the Staff of Moses.”
Oliver nodded his head in agreement. “I’m familiar with that bit of history. Moses carried it throughout the Exodus story, from the moment he spoke to God at the burning bush until he died just outside the promised land. It’s supposed to have had many powers.”
“Are you familiar with the fate of this particular relic?”
Oliver pondered that for a minute. It had been a long time since he had investigated that particular line of history. Finally he replied, “As I recall, the staff was supposed to have been passed from generation to generation among the kings of Judah, then lost during one of the invasions of biblical Israel. Some scholars believe that it might be the same as the rod of Aaron, which was placed in the Ark of the Covenant and remained there until the Ark was lost.”
“But what if the staff wasn’t lost? Both scenarios you describe say it is gone, but I’ve heard other versions of the story. What do you make of the story that Moses’s staff is actually in a museum in Turkey?”
“I’ve heard of that. Personally, I doubt it. In my experience most true relics were destroyed in arguments over what king, religion, or church should be allowed to control them. Only a few were kept safe by leaders of the religion that holds them sacred or hidden away in remote monasteries or caves.”
The Senator nodded and reached for his liquor glass. He held the glass up the the light and contemplated the dark liquid within. “You say, ‘in your experience.’ What do you mean by that?”
Oliver contemplated how much to reveal to the Senator. He was cautious to cover his adventuring with a legitimate career, but there was no denying that his actions occasionally crossed the borders of legality. Then there was the matter of just how much the Senator knew of his academic past.
His father interrupted Oliver’s train of through. “Just tell him, Oliver. You’re here because Senator Wheeler mentioned something to me and I told him you might be able to help out.”
“What did you tell him?” Oliver kept his voice level, but inside he was beginning to feel the pressure rise. After the collapse of his academic career, Oliver had kept the truth of his adventures to a small group of friends and a few pseudonymous internet forums. The thought of someone as powerful as Senator Wheeler knowing the truth about his international travel and research efforts gave him chills.
Michael Lucas shrugged. “He knows about some of your theories, and I mentioned your trip to Brazil a few years ago.”
“As it happens,” the Senator interjected, “I share some of your theories. Maybe not all of them, but I do sympathize with your plight. It’s a hard thing to stand for your beliefs against the engines of secular academia.”
Oliver shook his head and looked back at the Senator. “With all due respect, sir, you don’t even know what you’re talking about. I gave up my career because I refused to bury my theories, and I’m not sure you’d like half of them.”
“However that might be, what concerns me is whether your ‘experience’ extends to the location and recovery of artifacts.”
“It does.”
“Might you be willing to recover something for me?”
“If it exists, and the price is right.”
The Senator guffawed. He took a gulp from his drink and began to cough, then washed the cough away with another hearty slurp. “It always comes down to that, doesn’t it?”
Oliver’s voice remained level. “As you astutely pointed out, my stand against the engines of secularism robbed me of a career. Photography pays well, but unsponsored adventure travel is expensive.”
“Oh, I understand, my boy. And I am certainly prepared to pay if you can deliver the goods.”
“Again, what are you asking me to find?”
“I thought that would be obvious by now. I want to you retrieve the staff of Moses for me.”
“I’m not a thief, Senator. If you want the staff from Turkey, go find a burglar to steal it for you. My speciality is tracking down long lost relics, not breaking known artifacts out of museums.”
The Senator snorted. “Do you really think there is that much of a distinction?”
Oliver leaned forward in his chair and glared at the Senator. His voice was icy as he spoke. “There is a difference. The relics I seek out are almost always lost to history. Their very existence as more than plot points in old myths is only believed by a few people. On some rare occasions I’ve encountered cults that worship and protect the objects, but generally they’re hidden away in some decrepit temple or tomb, forgotten by all living people. I bring these objects back to the living. I give them a reason to exist once again.”
“The cultural ministries of many nations would disagree.”
“Are you this argumentative with everyone, Senator Wheeler?” Oliver asked, settling back in his chair with an exasperated sigh. “Because if you are I would seriously question your ability to govern a nation with nuclear weapons.”
“I’m just trying to get the measure of you, kid,” the Senator replied. “I need to know the person I send on this mission can be trusted to complete it without causing a diplomatic mess.”
“I haven’t accepted any mission yet, because you haven’t explained yourself, but I assure you that I will not cause any mess. Now why don’t you stop jerking me around and tell me why you think the staff of Moses is real, and what it has to to with me.”
The Senator eyed Oliver over his drink of a moment, apparently considering his words. Oliver was growing increasingly tense. His father had shown no support for his research in the last decade and this was a hell of a way to start. Maybe he should just leave. He had dealt with prickly collectors and power-mad curators, but nobody he had dealt with in the last ten years had intentionally aggravated him like the Senator was. Something about the grey-haired politician rubbed Oliver the wrong way.
Senator Wheeler took another sip from his glass and set it down on the table. He leaned forward, looking Oliver in the eyes, and said, “The facts are these, kid. I’ve long been interested in biblical relics. A colleague in the State Department recently informed me that several previously unrecorded scrolls had been stolen from the Egyptian state museum during the recent upheavals in that country. These scrolls showed up on the antiquities black market a month ago. The description that accompanies them says they describe a battle between the Egyptians and the Hittites that ended when the Egyptians captured a magic staff from their enemies.”
“That’s all?” Oliver asked in a skeptical tone.
“No. Normally the State Department wouldn’t have gotten involved in simple antiquity theft, but my colleague started hearing rumors from his contacts within the Egyptian state security community, or what was left of it after the government fell. It seems that one of the ousted officials from the Egyptian state security service has been making waves in the underground artifact trade, intimating that he will personally execute anyone who is foolish enough to buy this particular scroll. Of course, that drew the attention of my colleagues, who identified the official and passed word of him on to me.”
The Senator paused and looked at Oliver, as if waiting for him to ask for more of the story. Oliver waited, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of asking for him
to continue. If the Senator wanted him to travel to Egypt and track down a relic for him then he would have to stop playing games. A minute passed in awkward silence as Oliver studied the cut of Senator Wheeler’s suit and Oliver’s father slowly rattled the ice in his glass before the Senator sighed and continued.
“My colleague in the State Department learned that the official was one Rais Karim, former chief of the Egyptian official secrets bureau. Is the name familiar to you?”
Oliver shook his head. “Should it be?”
“I didn’t expect you to know him, but it would not have surprised me since you are both in the same business. To the best of our knowledge, Mr. Karim was a member of an element within the Egyptian security establishment responsible for protecting, shall we say, genuine relics. Not just mummies that have been slowly turning to dust over the centuries, but fragments of the past that are deemed unsafe for public knowledge. You might say he managed the Egyptian Area 51.”
“We both know that Area 51 is nothing more than a secret weapon testing facility,” Oliver interjected.
“Alright, metaphorically speaking.”
“So let me see if I’m getting this right. The Egyptian people rebel and throw out half the government. During the chaos a scroll is lost that might describe the fate of a magic staff, which you believe to be the Staff of Moses. And you think all this is real because a deposed Egyptian bureaucrat is trying to get his hands on the scroll?”
“That about sums it up.”
“Sounds like a stretch to me,” Oliver replied. He didn’t say what he was thinking, however. He hadn’t exactly told the truth when asked if he recognized the name of Rais Karim. He had heard the name many times before. Indeed, he had counted himself fortunate that his quest for shards of the mysterious mechanism had never lead him to Egypt, in large part because of the reputation of Rais Karim in the relic hunting community.
The world of relic hunting was not especially large and, even if people tended to hide behind pseudonyms, word of their actions tended to leak out. Even a few of Oliver’s adventures had begun to circulate around the internet, albeit without his name attached, as other seekers put together the same clues he had and made their way to the hiding places of relics he had retrieved, only to find evidence of them being recently recovered. Oliver knew that there was still a wealth of genuine relics in Egypt, but he had long avoided that region because rumor had it that the secret police were actively protecting many of Egypt’s relics, or at least safeguarding the best clues that might lead to them. And who could blame them, he thought, after the Egyptologists of the early twentieth century shipped half of the country’s history to England and America. Rais Karim was said to be the chief of Egypt’s relic protection forces, and there was more than one story of him personally interrogating would-be relic thieves who got to close to the genuine article.
“Tell me where I come in to this.”
“I want that staff, and it looks like that scroll is the best clue out there at the moment.”
“Obviously. But why do you want me?”
The Senator sighed, his face suddenly drooping into a mask of exhaustion. “As you so adroitly pointed out, I am running for President. The rest of my party might have self destructed, but I still have a good shot. If I can get that staff however...” His voice trailed off and Oliver thought for a moment that he looked genuinely embarrassed.
“Do you know what powers are ascribed to the staff, Oliver?”
“As I recall, Moses used the staff to call down plagues and draw water from rocks. It is also said to have turned into a snake once, but a literal reading would indicate that it was actually Aaron’s staff was used for that bit of magic.”
The Senator nodded. “Those are the popular miracles ascribed to Moses and his staff, yes. But there are others in legends and between the lines of the biblical account. At one time the Israelites went into battle and Moses held his staff up in his arms for a whole day. So long as his arms were raised, the battle went in favor of his people. Consider also the man himself. According to Exodus and the Midrash, Moses was a timid man with a weak speaking voice in the years following his flight from Egypt to Midian. But when God blessed him and showed him the fantastic properties of his staff, Moses grew in confidence and the children of Israel followed him.”
“Does this have anything to do with your campaign?” Oliver asked.
“Yes. And no.” The Senator looked uncomfortable again. “Look, this isn’t something I can easily explain. On one level I know it is ridiculous, perhaps even a bit blasphemous, but something makes me think that if I have the Staff of Moses in my possession it might somehow grant me that edge in charisma. It might give me the boost I need to win this election. And even if it doesn’t, you of all people must understand the impulse to own a piece of sacred history.”
“I understand,” Oliver replied. “Even if I think that you’re just a bit cracked for believing that a relic that channeled the power of God over three thousand years ago in the Middle East could help you win an election in America this year.”
Senator Wheeler shrugged. “What can I say. I believe it will.”
“What’s in this for me?”
“How does fifty thousand sound?”
“Dollars?”
“Of course. One of my nephews will purchase some shares in your father’s horses at a higher than usual price, and he will forward the money to you as a gift. Everything completely legal.”
Oliver looked inquiringly at his father, who nodded back at him.
“I assume you have a little more information than you’ve told me. I mean, if you want me to track down this staff for you, I need more than your word that there is a scroll somewhere in Egypt that says something.”
The Senator nodded and reached beside his chair for a briefcase Oliver had not noticed before. He pulled the briefcase onto his lap and clicked it open. He pulled out a manila envelope and passed it to Oliver across the table. “Consider this a downpayment. The remainder will be transferred to your father when you complete the job.”
“I don’t return deposits.”
“Understandable in your line of work.”
“Egypt isn’t the safest place right now. I’ll need some help with getting a few weapons into the country.”
“Of course. Give your father whatever you need, up to about this big.” He outlined the form of a small travel bag in the air with his hands. “Then let him know what hotel you’ll be staying at, and I will ensure it is delivered. We have diplomatic packages going back and forth several times a week, so there should be no difficulty in including your equipment.”
Oliver stood and extended his hand to the Senator. “I appreciate that you called on me for this. I’ll do my best.”
The Senator shut his briefcase, stood to shake his hand and replied, “Certainly, my boy. When I mentioned the staff to your father he assured me that you were the man for this job. When can you leave for Egypt?”
“I’ve literally just returned from Iceland. I need a day or two to rest and gather supplies for the desert, then I’ll be on my way.”
“Take a room at a hotel in Cairo. Leave the address with your father and I’ll ensure your supplies are delivered promptly, along with all the information my people in Egypt have on the scrolls that are up for sale. How long do you anticipate this taking?”
“That will depend on what I find when I get there. Do you tweet sir?”
“Tweet?”
“Microblogging. I sometimes use a secure account to take notes and share my progress with clients.”
“Oh, yes. I have someone on my staff who manages all that social stuff, but I never touch it myself.”
“Then you’d better arrange a prepaid cell phone for us to talk on. Buy it with cash and send the number to my hotel.”
The Senator nodded, but he was clearly uncomfortable with Oliver telling him what to do.
“Thank you, Senator. I’ll do my best. Now if you don’t mind, I need to have a word w
ith my father, I haven’t seen him since before I left for Iceland.” Olive gestured to the door and smiled.
“Before I go, just one thing.” The Senator said, holding up a hand.
“What?”
He placed the hand on Oliver’s shoulder and gripped it tightly. He looked into Oliver’s eyes and said, “If you screw me on this, or breathe a word of what I’ve asked of you to the media, you’ll never fly again. It’s not hard. One word to the right agency and your only way off this continent will be with a private sailboat.” His voice was calm, and slightly slurred from the whiskey, but there was gravity to it.
Oliver met the Senator’s gaze without blinking. He waited, not trusting his voice because he was genuinely afraid now, certain he could out-stare the politician. His muscles tensed as he mentally went through the steps it would take to remove the Senator’s fingers from his shoulder and snap them one by one.
Senator Wheeler blinked first. He stepped away from Oliver, nodded past him to his father, and pulled the heavy door open. Ted the Secret Service agent pulled the door shut without a word as the Senator stomped up the steps.
Oliver turned to his father and exploded, “What was that? You hardly say a word to me for six months, then all of a sudden, you’re the proud father showing me off to a Presidential candidate?”
Oliver’s father rubbed his pointy chin, took another sip of his whiskey, and gave a slight shrug. “I’m sorry Oliver. I know that this won’t mean terribly much, but I do feel bad about that. I just wanted to try and make it up to you. I thought this would help.”
“And the chance to show off to a candidate had nothing to do with it?”
“Nothing.”
Oliver relaxed a little. He was still upset, and didn’t believe his father’s denial of any political motivations, but willing to listen. “Well, it’s good to see you again, Dad.”
“Likewise, son. I’ll be frank. I still wish you’d at least toned it down a little when your career started to look rocky, but you’ve still managed to make something of yourself over the last few years, and I am proud of that.”