by Nancy Madore
They went back inside to find Butch and Huxley much more composed. Lilith was gone.
“Please accept our apologies,” Butch said to Helene. “I’m afraid we all lost our heads there for a minute.”
“We’ve sent Lilith away—back into the ring—for the time being,” added Huxley. He was making every effort to appear calm but it was clear that he was still extremely agitated.
“I’m going to my room,” Helene told them.
“Good! Get some rest,” said Huxley. “Poor thing must be exhausted.”
Alone in her room, Helene went right for the stationary. A little surge of excitement welled up at the thought of how much she had to tell him. He would be ever so disappointed to have missed it! Yet it was possible that he would get to see Lilith for himself. For surely they would bring her back to England with them! She began writing and the words poured forth faster than Helene could get them down on paper. She told Edward about the Bedouin, his Book of the Dead, the ring they made out of metal shavings, the spells written in the mysterious language and even the terrifying darkness just before Lilith appeared. By the time she got to Lilith, her hand was already getting tired, so she was obliged to skim over the details of Lilith’s life, highlighting only the most significant parts, such as her being a great warrior and then drowning in the flood. When she finally stopped writing Helene had used up eight sheets of paper—front and back—starting out on page one with nice, crisp letters written in perfectly straight lines and ending with a barely legible scrawl that sloped downward across the page when she finished. At the very bottom she wrote: “P.S. There’s one more detail I’m saving to tell you in person. It’s a secret!” With a giggle, Helene folded the stationary, tucked it neatly into the matching envelope and addressed it to Edward.
Helene could hear the voices of the men in the other room, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She was suddenly too tired to care and, lying down, she closed her eyes.
It seemed like mere seconds later when her father shook her awake.
“I hated to wake you,” he said. “You were sleeping so peacefully.”
Helene yawned and stretched. She felt even more tired than when she lay down. “What happened?” she asked.
“Well, let’s see, Butch still wants to destroy the tablet and keep the discovery quiet, while Huxley is dying to shout about it from the rooftops.”
“And you?” asked Helene.
Her father laughed. “I want a little of both, I guess,” he said. “I understand Butch’s concerns. Something like this could change the world as we know it. At the moment, we only agree on two things: we have to keep it a secret until we get home and we must leave here as soon as possible.”
“We won’t be visiting the caves?” asked Helene, torn between her disappointment over missing the caves and her excitement over seeing Edward again.
“No, but we’ll let everyone think we are,” said her father. “Butch doesn’t want to tip anyone off that anything out of the ordinary has happened.” He laughed at her expression of alarm. “Not to worry,” he said. “Butch is an old fuddy-duddy and I suppose I am too because I don’t want to take any unnecessary chances either.”
“What could happen?” wondered Helene.
“Well, for one thing, we could be robbed. A discovery like this would be worth lots of money.”
“Really?” Helene hadn’t thought about that, but it made sense. She felt a twinge of excitement at the prospect. “Will we get a third?”
Her father laughed. “Pack your things,” he said. “We’ll tell anyone who asks that we’re heading out to the caves, but we’re not coming back, so make sure you don’t leave anything behind.”
They went into the living room to discover Abdul Samad and his wife bringing breakfast.
“Good morning,” said her father.
"Assalamu alaikum,” replied the Arab with his oddly persistent smile. He lingered in the doorway as his wife prepared their morning meal. “You sleep well?” he asked no one in particular.
“Yes,” replied Butch. “Very well, thank you.” Abdul smiled and nodded, and Helene once again had the sense that he didn’t understand what they were saying. Butch appeared to be of a different opinion, however, continuing pleasantly—“We’ll be sightseeing today. We’re anxious to get a look at those caves.”
Abdul smiled and nodded. “Ah, caves,” he echoed.
“It’s wasted on him,” Huxley murmured under his breath.
His wife, meanwhile, was arranging the food on the table. There was tea, milk, more of the flatbread that Helene had enjoyed the night before, beans, olives and some kind of pastry that had been rolled up into balls and fried. None of it was what she was accustomed to eating first thing in the morning but, having experienced every imaginable culinary experiment at the hands of Mrs. Barnes under the influence of the rations, Helene was ever open minded. The smells wafting up from the table were not at all bad.
The men went back to what they were doing while Helene loitered near the food. When at last Abdul’s wife began packing up her things, Helene approached her shyly, waiting until she looked up. “Another?” Helene asked, holding out her letter to Edward.
The woman’s eyes softened. “Na’am,” she said, nodding vigorously. She took the letter and placed it inside the large bag she carried.
“Thank you,” said Helene.
“Na’am,” said the woman, nodding again.
Helene wondered what Arab women were like behind their veils. Did they ever have fun and laugh? She thought of Mrs. Barnes, who could be just as forbidding as any Arab and sighed. She hoped to never be an old lady.
When Abdul and his wife left they sat down to eat. The food tasted good, and absorbed most of Helene’s attention. The men made an effort to be cheerful but their conversation was strained. They spoke of preparations for their trip back to Tel Aviv. Huxley seemed terribly put out that they were leaving without telling his friend, Lieutenant Brisbin. There was the matter of the car they had borrowed, as well as payment for the scroll.
“All that can be taken care of later,” insisted Butch.
Helene could tell that her father was siding with Huxley and she felt sorry for Butch. She hoped everything would go back to normal once they got home.
She couldn’t help wondering what all of this was going to mean for her. Would she become famous? This would certainly boost her career in archeology. For that was definitely what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She would scour the earth in search of ancient secrets. Maybe she and Edward would scour the earth together.
Immediately after breakfast they packed up their things and loaded them into the car. Even Helene didn’t have to be told twice. There was an unspoken urgency that drove them. Butch swept up the metal shavings and tossed them into a sand pile outside. It wasn’t until she was securely strapped into the back seat of the car that Helene was finally able to relax.
It was turning out to be a lovely day. The sun radiated heat through the car windows, making Helene feel drowsy again. They headed down the dirt road in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Chapter 36
“What in the world?” Helene heard Butch mutter all of a sudden, and she leaned forward in her seat to have a look.
She couldn’t resist a giggle. A flock of sheep had gathered in the road, seemingly unconcerned by the approaching vehicle. A few of them gazed at the car disapprovingly, bleating loudly. Butch honked the horn, but this only made them huddle more closely together as they stood their ground.
“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Huxley, opening his car door. “Want to give me a hand, Bob?”
Her father got out of the car. The men approached the sheep cautiously, causing Helene to laugh again.
“Shoo! Shoo!” yelled Huxley, flinging his hands at them. But the sheep only huddled closer together.
Her father tried pushing the sheep but that didn’t work either. “Brother!” he exclaimed after several failed attempts to get
the sheep to move.
“Try hitting them on their backsides,” Butch yelled out the car window. Helene’s father tried this, but he administered such light taps that the sheep didn’t even appear to notice. “Good God,” Butch muttered under his breath, and then—“Harder!” he yelled. Huxley, meanwhile, took matters into his own hands, hauling back and landing a solid blow to one sheep’s hind legs. The animal jumped and then trotted off indignantly, setting the rest of the herd in motion in the same direction. Just as the last of them were leaving the road there was a loud shot, which panicked the sheep, sending them into a full run. Then there was a second shot. Helene looked around, assuming the shots were meant to corral the sheep but then she caught sight of her father and Huxley lying on the ground, and she screamed.
Butch shifted the car into gear but before he could hit the gas more shots were fired and Helene felt one of the tires go flat. She screamed again.
“We’ve been ambushed!” cried Butch, ducking down in his seat while simultaneously reaching for Helene in the back. “Get down!” he yelled at her.
Helene couldn’t seem to move so Butch caught hold of her arm and jerked her down onto the floor. “Dear god!” he whispered.
Six armed men, dressed in Arab robes, emerged from all directions. They approached the car cautiously, their guns aimed and ready to fire.
“Whatever you do, don’t tell them anything,” Butch whispered emphatically. “The minute they get what they want they’ll kill you!”
As the men drew nearer Helene recognized one of them to be Abdul Samad, the Arab who had brought food and supplies to them. He looked different without the disturbing smile pasted to face but it was definitely him. Helene’s insides seemed to drop at the sight of him. A terrible sense of culpability gripped her. Had he seen the letter she gave to his wife?
She heard a car approaching ahead and hope flooded through her. The car advanced quickly and her optimism grew when she saw that it was one of the British officers’ vehicles. Yet the Arabs were not backing down.
The car stopped and Lieutenant Brisbin got out. He looked at the bodies in the road and then shouted something at the men in Arabic. Then he looked at Helene and Butch. “We have to get you out of here,” he told them. Butch did not look at all relieved, but he grimly helped Helene out of the car and led her to the lieutenant’s vehicle.
“We have to help father!” she cried, resisting a little as if to go to him.
“An ambulance will follow shortly,” said the lieutenant. Helene looked at Butch. “Come! Hurry!” the lieutenant said urgently and Butch nodded for her to do as he said, though he refused to meet her eye.
Butch helped Helene into the lieutenant’s car before getting in himself. When his eyes finally met hers Helene had the distinct impression he was trying to warn her of something. Remembering what he told her in the car, she nodded imperceptibly.
“I must apologize for that unfortunate incident on the road,” Lieutenant Brisbin said as they took off down the road. “The Arabs can be such savages. They thought you were stealing the car—it belongs to the Arab legion, you know. They give us Brits a great deal of leeway, but still, stealing is not tolerated here.” His tone was kind and sympathetic, but every instinct of Helene’s distrusted him. She wondered if what he was telling them could possibly be true.
Butch remained silent, which told Helene more clearly than words what he thought about the lieutenant’s claims.
“I will need statements from both of you,” the lieutenant continued. Helene was surprised to see that he was taking them back to the little cabin. “We can talk here,” he said. Feeling numb, Helene got out of the car and followed him and Butch inside.
“Sit down,” said the lieutenant politely and they did. He gave them a sympathetic smile. “I’m going to try to straighten this out for you,” he said. “There are just a few things that I have to clear up first.”
Helene couldn’t bring herself to look at the lieutenant’s face so she fixed her eyes lower, on his throat. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he spoke.
“Aside from the car, the Arabs claim you have other…items in your possession that belong to them,” continued the lieutenant. He smiled apologetically and shrugged his shoulders. “Their actions may seem excessive but you must understand that these people are highly irrational and superstitious. They claim you have a ring that belongs to one of their ancestors. Naturally, if there was such an artifact, you could see why they would want to keep it here, in the country of its origin. And of course there’s the book that was removed from the cave.”
When they did not respond Lieutenant Brisbin turned to Helene. “Are you familiar with the ring of which they speak?” he asked her.
“It was thrown out with the metal shavings when the experiment failed,” Butch interjected. There was something in his tone that made Helene think he was speaking to her, not the lieutenant.
Lieutenant Brisbin didn’t even glance in Butch’s direction. “I’m asking the girl,” he replied politely. Then—“Where is the ring Miss Trevelyan?”
Helene continued to stare at the man’s neck, but what she was seeing was the image of her father's and Huxley’s bodies lying on the ground. Yet she couldn’t seem to feel anything, except a strong conviction that nothing mattered from this point forward. Nothing she felt—or did—could change what had already happened.
“Miss Trevelyan?”
“We…threw it out,” she said mechanically.
“Where?”
“Outside, in the sand.”
“Why would you do that?” The lieutenant’s voice remained ominously calm and friendly throughout his questioning.
“Be…cause,” replied Helene. In the long silence that followed she realized he was waiting for her to elaborate, so she continued—“Like Mr. Butchard said…the experiment failed.”
“Did it?” asked the lieutenant. He appeared to be surprised by this. “That’s odd, because the Arabs seem to think that the experiment was a ‘marvelous, tremendous, stupendous success.’” Helene flinched and her eyes filled with tears. He had quoted her word for word in her letter to Edward, confirming her fear that she was the one who had tipped them off in the first place. This was all her fault. She had killed her father and Huxley. A deep sense of mortification and shame crept over her and she hoped Butch wouldn’t find out what she’d done.
“I don’t know where the ring is!” she cried. The lieutenant’s neck was so blurry now that she couldn’t even see his Adam’s apple anymore.
She could hear the Arabs returning from the road. She wondered what they had done with her father and Huxley. She kept reminding herself that nothing mattered, and she actually hoped to join her father and Huxley, wherever they were. It was what she deserved.
“Samad!” the lieutenant called out and Abdul Samad appeared through the doorway. “You stay with Mr. Butchard. Miss Trevelyan and I are going to take a little walk.” Lieutenant Brisbin stood up and took Helene’s arm. She followed numbly as he led her outside. His touch was gentle but it felt to her like a scalding brand and she shuddered with relief when he released her.
“Show me where they threw the ring and the metal shavings,” he said.
Helene led him to where she had seen Butch dump the metal shavings and pointed. The lieutenant called the men over and instructed them to search the area for the ring. However, he didn’t seem very optimistic that they would find it.
“What—if you don’t mind my asking—is this secret you’re saving for your return home?” the Lieutenant asked her conspiratorially.
Helene held her breath as she searched for a plausible answer, and then blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I was going to tell Edward that I…love him.” She blushed at the lie.
“Where is the ring, Miss Trevelyan?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“Who had it last?”
“My father,” she lied, knowing he wouldn’t mind the lie since it was meant
to help Butch. “He was the one who took it out with the metal shavings.”
The lieutenant appeared to be considering this.
“Then he hid Mr. Huxley’s tablet and the Book of the Dead in the car,” she added, hoping this would convince him that she was telling the truth. She knew he would find the two documents hidden in the lining of their luggage if he looked for them. What did any of it matter now? The documents were of no use since Lilith was in the ring, though she supposed they could always find another Book of the Dead to use Huxley’s tablet with, just as Butch had forewarned. “Maybe the ring is with the books if it isn’t here.”
Helene suddenly felt very tired. Her father was dead. He and Huxley had been shot. They would never reap the rewards of their discovery. She fervently hoped their killers wouldn’t either.
The lieutenant instructed her to wait inside with Mr. Butchard while they conducted their search of the grounds and the car, which the Arabs had confiscated.
“I told him that father had the ring and the documents,” she whispered to Butch as she sat down next to him on the couch. “I think father would have wanted…” she stopped. She felt dead inside. Too dead to even muster the energy to cry. Butch put his arm around her and she leaned against him and closed her eyes. Neither of them said another word.
It seemed like several hours before Helene woke up. Butch was gone.
“Where’s Mr. Butchard?” she asked when the lieutenant came into the room.
“Mr. Butchard is going to remain here with us for a while longer,” he told her in that same, annoyingly polite and apologetic manner, as if he was just as put out as she was but didn’t have any say in the matter. Helene didn’t believe him. “But you’re going home,” he finished.
Helene wasn’t sure she heard him right. “Home?” she echoed dully.
“Yes,” he said. There was something exceedingly unpleasant in his smile but Helene ignored it, desperate to believe what he was telling her. In spite of her wretchedness she couldn’t help feeling relief at the thought of going home, of seeing Edward again—and even good old, practical Mrs. Barnes!