by Nancy Madore
“We know it’s a suicide mission,” said Gordon.
“Where are you getting this information?” she wondered. “How do you know it’s called ‘Lilith’s Revenge’ and that it’s a suicide mission?”
“We’ve cracked the code,” said Gordon. “…to the encrypted messages. Which means we can translate the messages we have.”
“It also enables us to identify other messages encrypted with the same code,” added Will. “The more messages we find, the more pieces of the puzzle we have.”
“How’d you get the code?” Nadia asked.
There was a long silence. Gordon started to speak but Will held up a hand to stop him. “One of the cells is a plant,” Will said.
“Could your plant be mistaken, or…misguided?” asked Nadia. She didn’t trust spies and informants as a general rule.
“Not this one,” said Will.
“How do you know?”
“Because we know,” he replied. Nadia sighed.
“These days, cells are chosen for missions in jihad,” explained Gordon. “They have to be invited by someone on the inside. The really organized attacks—the big ones—can’t afford to just take volunteers off the street anymore. This was the case with our cell. We believe she was recommended by her husband’s religious instructor at their Mosque, or maybe it was her husband himself who volunteered her.”
“Either way, it was an offer she couldn’t refuse,” said Clive.
“Who is she?” Nadia asked, surprised to hear that it was a woman.
“You know we can’t tell you who she is,” said Will. “All we can tell you is that she’s a Muslim who came here from Saudi Arabia with her husband. He was a known supporter of Jihad who was being watched by government officials. He was also very abusive toward his wife. At one point, she secretly sought aid from a local woman’s shelter, but she was too terrified to actually leave him. However, a friendship developed between her and one of the women at the center who she trusted enough to confide in.”
“It turns out this Muslim woman was sold to her husband at the age of fourteen,” said Gordon, picking up where Will left off. “She lived with his abuse for over ten years. She’s a devout Muslim who’s deeply opposed to extremist views like those of her husband’s. Anyway, her husband was killed in an act of Jihad and shortly afterwards she was invited to participate in an intense spiritual program for the self-improvement of Muslim widows—a cover for a Jihad training session like the one her husband attended. She knew that they felt they were honoring her with this request, and she also knew that it wasn’t really a request. She confided all this to her friend at the help center.”
“In case you haven’t figured it out yet,” interjected Clive—“her friend at the center worked for the Department of Defense.”
“Yes, and it wasn’t hard for the woman at the center to convince her to become a double agent,” added Gordon with admiration in his voice. “She would much rather risk her life to help prevent terrorism than to face certain death in a cause she doesn’t believe in.”
“So she became one of them,” Nadia said, stunned by the woman’s story.
“Yes, she went through a rigorous training program and was then told to wait,” said Gordon. “There are many out there like her, Muslims against extremism. But most of them don’t have the connections that she has. It’s not easy to get in, as Will mentioned before. It has to kind of happen naturally.”
“Even once you’re in, it takes patience,” added Will. “You never know when the call will come. She’s been what we call a sleeper cell for nearly a decade, and she’s only been called for duty one other time.”
“What happened that time?” Nadia asked breathlessly.
“The first time they use a cell, it’s usually a test,” said Gordon. “The cell’s sent on a bogus errand and used as a decoy. This way the mission can still be carried out if the cell alerts someone about it.”
“And that’s how they find out if their cell can be trusted,” added Clive.
“But even a decoy message can be useful,” said Will. “It helps us identify who’s involved. Djinn-related attacks are not that hard to recognize. Their missions tend to be more organized and complex, while at the same time being more elaborate and mysterious. Ordinary terrorists tend to talk too much, but what little information the djinn provide is always in code. Even the translations are in code. Their messages are always laced with hidden meanings that, more times than not, lead us right to their ancient pasts.”
“They’re very sentimental,” agreed Clive.
“That’s where we come in,” said Gordon. “We cross-reference probable connections to djinn in our system and then track any viable leads it produces. The object is to solve the riddle before anyone gets hurt.”
“And what have you got so far?” Nadia wondered. “I mean, besides my grandmother’s connection to Lilith.”
Clive and Gordon once again left the decision of how much to tell her to Will. “We know from their description of the enemy that their target is the United States,” he told her. “And we know from their statements and promises that they believe they’ll be making history with this attack.”
“As well as fulfilling prophesy,” added Gordon. “They’ve actually used the term Al-Malhama Al-Kubra, which represents the final battle against the anti-Christ, i.e. the western world.” He paused for effect. “In Christian terms, we’re talking Armageddon.”
“We’re not entirely sure that our cell isn’t being used as a decoy again,” said Will. “Her instructions are somewhat contradictory. The mission is Jihad, yet they didn’t include the purification ritual that is required for martyrs.”
“What did they tell her to do?” Nadia asked.
The men eyed her suspiciously. “I think we’ve told you enough,” said Will.
“You’ve told me next to nothing,” said Nadia. “Everything you’ve said is basic stuff I could have probably learned on the internet. What did they tell her to do?”
“She’s to attend a seminar in LA,” said Will. They all seemed to be studying her face with even more interest than usual. Will spoke deliberately, emphasizing every word. “You may have heard of it. It’s a seminar for women…sponsored by BEACON…”
Nadia gasped. “The Supporting Women Around the World network meetings?”
“Ding, ding, ding,” interjected Clive. “Tell her what she’s won, Johnny.”
Nadia’s blood ran cold. Many of her friends and associates were going to those meetings! So many women! And she was the one who had set it all up! “What’s going to happen at the seminar?” she asked. “What…what did they tell her to do?”
“Nothing yet,” said Will. “So far, all she has to do is attend.”
“We think she might be receiving the rest of her instructions there,” said Gordon. “They’ve actually listed which meetings she’s to attend.”
“You have to give me a phone!” cried Nadia. “I have to warn them…”
“You know that’s not going to happen,” said Clive.
“Which meetings will she be attending?” Nadia demanded, trying to remember who the instructors were. But there were so many of them! It had become quite the networking event, thanks to her, pulling in women from all around the world to help raise money and awareness for the less fortunate. It was meant to bring people together, to try and bridge the cultural gaps through women. It had seemed such a noble cause when she was planning it.
Will had pulled out his phone—one of those ‘Smart Phones’ that her assistant had been urging her to get but that she didn’t have time to learn how to use—and was swiftly and adeptly pressing buttons. “She’s been instructed to attend three meetings supporting Muslim awareness,” he said. “They appear to be your typical, Islam-isn’t-that-bad-for-women type of thing. Let’s see, at nine a.m. there’s Lessons in Hope, sharing stories from women around the world who have converted to Islam; at eleven there’s Escaping the Goddess of Death, detailing the many pitfalls of mo
dern immorality, and at one o’clock there’s Cloaked in Glory, the…,” Will stopped when he caught sight of Nadia’s expression. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
Everyone turned to look at her. It felt like every last drop of blood had been drained from her face. The words, Goddess of Death, kept echoing in her head.
Was it possible?
“Does any of this mean something to you?” asked Gordon.
“If it does you have to tell us right now,” said Will.
“Yes,” she whispered, but then she faltered, uncertain. “I don’t know—maybe.” She felt like she was drowning in a sea of uncertainty.
Maybe it was just a coincidence.
“Tell us,” Will’s voice was barely more than a whisper as well.
Nadia realized that she was trembling. The moment, and everything in it, felt surreal. “I think…,” she paused to lick her lips, which had suddenly become terribly dry. “I think this…attack…might be…different from what you’re expecting.” She lowered her eyes because she couldn’t endure their accusatory stares—particularly Clive’s—any longer. And in that moment she knew that it was true. “It’s going to be a plague.”
Chapter 26
Ancient Mesopotamia
The city of Kiriath Arba
A few days later
Kiriath Arba was situated on the side of a small mountain, providing all of its inhabitants with a spectacular view of the world outside its city walls. Narrow roads wound in and around the countryside for a charming effect. The houses were mostly constructed of the distinctive, rose-colored stone that was native to the area, but the temples and royal living quarters were made of marble, which could also be found in the earth below their feet. Olive, palm and almond trees grew robustly, giving the city a sense of prosperity. Sophisticated irrigation systems, designed by Arba himself, rendered the city impervious to drought. The mountain produced numerous springs to tap into, and the healthy trees, larger than those of other cities less drought resistant, seemed to ensure the continued, ongoing approval of the gods for all of the people who dwelt there.
The city also boasted of a prosperous trade. Besides the rose colored stones and the exquisite marble, there were many other luxury products such as wine and figs. There were caves at the base of the mountain where the elite buried their dead. It was a city that had everything; lush hills, quiet valleys and it was surrounded on all sides by desert. Lilith was utterly charmed.
The battle had turned out better than Lilith had hoped. In spite of their incredible size and extraordinary strength, the Emim hadn’t stood a chance. While indomitable to the sons of men—particularly when attacking at night, as in the case of Jericho—against a more worthy opponent they were unskilled and clumsy. Some of them were crippled with deformities, although they managed to turn a few of these defects to their advantage. The flesh-eating ‘biters,’ for example, had sharp, jagged teeth, and nails that ripped through skin like it was butter. These were the ones who hid in the trees, and it was disarming for even the most experienced soldier to have one of these snarling, slashing fiends fall upon him in battle. Their razor-sharp teeth could penetrate the jugular before the soldier knew what hit him. These were the most terrifying and dangerous of all the Emim, and undoubtedly the ones that attacked Jericho. It was well that the Nephilim warriors were guarded on all sides by the sons of men, for they had proved invaluable in warning of biters overhead, or in fighting off one who managed to land on his mark. But those unfortunate warriors who were bitten would have been better off if they had died right there in the forest. They suffered much on their journeys home, and few made it back alive. Those were the worst off of all the survivors. Luckily, neither Lilith nor Asmodeous was among them.
They stayed in the Cedar Forest for more than a week after conquering it, cutting down as many cedars as they could carry back with them. The soldiers who came from the east—including the Kalag-ga warriors—carried their bounty to the Euphrates River and then converted it into large rafts that floated down the river into Uruk and the other cities along the river. The armies from the west took theirs to the nearby Jordan River, where they sent them drifting past Jericho and into the Dead Sea, on the way to their various destinations along the seaboard, the very last of which was Kiriath Arba.
When Asmodeous and his army finally returned with their share of the spoils, the people of Kiriath Arba crowded the streets to catch a glimpse of the amazing procession. They were awestruck by the spectacle, and it was hard to say what impressed them most. The tremendous cedars announced the success of their mission, but no one had ever seen trees that size before. In addition, it was unusual for so many men to return from battle. Indeed, Kiriath Arba had only lost eight men! But what astonished them most—the thing that literally cut short their cries of joy and turned them into gasps of shock—was the sight of Lilith. A woman—a giant woman, no less—dressed as a warrior, seated on her own horse and riding in front beside their king, as dark and beautiful as any goddess! The entire city was speechless.
As they rode through the gates, Asmodeous reached out and took Lilith’s hand, raising it high up in the air in a gesture that clearly attributed the victory to her. It was a powerful statement, a warning to one and all of the reverence that should be shown to the woman sitting by his side. After that first pause of hushed astonishment, a cheer rose up that was even louder than before. Lilith smiled and waved at the crowd. Her joy was complete. She had debated the wisdom of riding in front with Asmodeous, but then again, she wouldn’t have been content to ride anywhere else. And besides, the people of Kiriath Arba would have been shocked by her appearance no matter where she sat in the procession. She was not the sort of woman who could just stroll into a city unnoticed. Anyway, Asmodeous had insisted upon it. And in truth, Lilith loved every minute of it. Entering the city, hearing their cheers, she could almost imagine that she really was Asmodeous’ queen.
Without offering any explanation to anyone, not even to the high priests of the temple, Asmodeous established Lilith in his household, and in his bed. The king’s household was made up of various advisers and domestics, who managed both home and kingdom. No one dared question Lilith’s presence, not even the priests, though she received her share of curious attention. But that didn’t bother Lilith. She had never concerned herself with the opinions of the sons of men before and she would not start now. And in truth, she was much too wrapped up in herself to notice. She was blissfully unaware of anything and anyone except Asmodeous. She settled into his city as contentedly as she settled into his bed. She knew that the people were reverential to her because they feared her. And wasn’t that what mattered? She didn’t bother to wonder what they thought of her personally. She only associated with the other Nephilim, shunning everyone else, even the Nephilim's wives. Asmodeous spent the better part of his days with her, but Lilith enjoyed her time alone almost as much. She loved the exquisite agony of missing him, followed by the thrill of rushing back into his arms again for an evening of erotic pleasures.
Asmodeous was an excellent king, and the people of Kiriath Arba lived comfortably under his leadership. He ruled with a firm but fair hand, managing to maintain order while creating an undemanding existence for the sons of men. In watching him with his people, Lilith realized how wrong she’d been about him before. He was not without humility after all. He was kind, protective and considerate. With her, he was sweet, loving and generous. He laid his city at her feet like a cat leaves its prey on its master’s doorstep. He shared everything with her, discussing all the many decisions that were thrust upon him in the course of his day and even asking her opinion on many of them. They debated the nuances of ruling, as well as every other aspect of life. Lilith often thought him too lenient with the sons of men, whereas he teased her for being a tyrant. But aside from these minor differences of opinion, Lilith felt they were really as alike as any two people could be. Asmodeous’ passion and intellect—everything about him in fact—complemented her. He made her a be
tter person. Each moment spent with him left her eager for another. She had never been this happy before. There was literally nothing else she wanted. She didn’t even miss the battlefield. Nor was she concerned—she wouldn’t have even thought of it if she hadn’t overheard some of the women talking—that she and Asmodeous were not making a child. What did she want a child for? Asmodeous filled her every need.
They made love every night, and—for Lilith at least—each time was like the first. Asmodeous approached her like bull, or like a man who’d been locked away in a cave for years. He was impatient, trembling with need, overcome with passion. Lilith thrived on his unceasing desire for her. Her ego soared. She felt loved and cherished for the first time in her life. Asmodeous accepted her for who she was, and she appreciated that more than anything. She surrendered herself to him completely. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.
Yet trouble simmered beneath the surface, though Lilith was too content to pay it much heed. While Asmodeous and the other male giants were generally admired, Lilith was more likely to be resented. It wasn’t as easy for people to accept her. For one thing, she was the only female giant they’d ever seen, and her behavior as a woman was scandalous. She flaunted her affair with Asmodeous without any regard for their customs. And worst of all, she remained barren.
As the citizens of Kiriath Arba grew more mistrustful of her, Lilith grew more and more distant from them. She insisted that she didn’t care what they thought, provided they showed her the proper respect.
This quiet dissent might have gone unremarked if not for the affliction. It struck suddenly, spreading through Kiriath Arba like wildfire, but only leaving its deadly mark on the city’s most innocent. The stillborn infants came in droves. Mostly it took the children of ordinary men, but a few of the Nephilim were affected as well. It treated males and females alike; all of them were born dead.