“Lochum, look,” she called to the other side of the room, but his eyes were locked in study of the Damascus Papyrus. “It’s important,” she added, but he seemed oblivious.
Rebecca brought the metatarsal bone along with her translation over to him and set them down right on top of the Papyrus.
“What do you think you are doing?” he asked, startled.
Good. At least she had roused him from his obsession. “Trying to get you to look at the list of all those involved. The thirty.”
Finally intrigued, Lochum scanned the document once, then again, but ultimately shoved the tiny bone away. “It is immaterial.”
“Are you crazy?”
“It tells us the ‘who,’ not the ‘where.’”
Rebecca tried to keep the frustration from her voice. She could not speak plainly, not with Tok so close. “But isn’t that knowledge just as important? If we can figure out which one is the ‘man without contempt,’ we might be able to divine where he took them.”
But her logic was wasted, as the professor pressed his nose against the magnifying glass only a few inches above the Papyrus.
After decades of insisting that the Damascus document held all the answers to Christ, the professor seemed determined to prove himself right. His study of the document seemed more a reunion between two long-lost lovers than professional interest.
Glancing over, Rebecca found Tok scrutinizing Lochum as intently as the professor was studying the Papyrus. So even though she knew Magdalene’s remains were important, Rebecca pulled up a stool next to her old professor.
“So what’ve you got?”
As Lochum began describing his discoveries, Rebecca made sure to carefully fold the list and slip it inside her pocket. If there was one thing she had learned throughout this ordeal, it was to trust her instincts.
* * *
Tok watched the two doctors. They were distinct entities, yet when combined, they became something altogether different. Lochum brought the drive and the scope, whereas Monroe contributed restraint and focus. When separated they had floundered. But now united, they sparked as flint to stone. His plan was proven a singular success.
Studying Monroe over this journey, Tok realized the doctor functioned best when put under strain. Hers was a lazy intellect only brought to its full potential when death lingered. So he had carefully and meticulously kept the woman on edge, providing just enough stimulation to maintain her forward momentum. And by keeping Monroe edgy, Tok fueled the professor as well.
“No, no, no!” Lochum bellowed.
But Monroe stood toe-to-toe with the older man. “Archibald! Can’t you make room that there can be another interpretation?”
“Why should I? Listen to Flavian! In his recollections of Jerusalem’s fall he states, ‘All those before had not the right of it. Not even the Magyars, etc. etc… They besmirched such hallowing and did not know of the contempt during the flight and did not witness the mask of horror descend upon Jerusalem.’”
The woman shook her head. “Damn it, read the entire passage.” Pushing him aside, she picked up the Papyrus. “‘Not even the Magyars such, nor the Thracian, nor yet the Gallians. For all the glory of the Etruscans they besmirched…’”
Monroe stopped, clearly thinking she had made her point, yet it was obvious that Lochum could not follow her logic. Frustrated at his lack of understanding, she indicated to each name in turn. “The Magyars? Come on, we’ve been to Magyar-land.”
The professor’s features pinched. “Budapest. The pool found under the brothers’ deer.”
The legend of the godlike stag along with the passage from John’s bone leapt to Tok’s mind. Is that how they found James? A new respect for the doctors took hold. Would he have been able to divine such?
“Want to take a stab at Thracian?”
Lochum’s face hardened. “They are the people of ancient Turkey.”
Especially the region straddling the Bosphorus, Tok thought, but did not articulate. Flavian was clearly referring to Istanbul.
“And the Gallians arose in the area of France, in particular Paris,” Lochum added quickly, before Monroe could taunt him again.
The doctor turned to Tok. “Paris, Budapest, Istanbul. I believe that’s a list of the Knot’s greatest hits. Isn’t it?”
Tok did not respond. He could not respond and not because Petir was upstairs arranging transportation. No, even with his mentor, he would not have been able to convey his thoughts. Instead, Tok stood fixed in his position. So rigid he could not even nod.
Not waiting for confirmation, Monroe continued, “Which means the last on the list, the Etruscans, must be pretty important.”
In the throes of realization, Lochum sat down hard on his stool. Tok felt his own knees weaken as well. Could it be true? Could the Knot have known the Savior’s location all this time?
Seemingly dazed, Lochum spoke the words softly. “Etruscans. They were inhabitants of ancient Italy.”
“All roads lead to Rome,” Monroe whispered into the silence.
* * *
A flume of powder set Brandt’s mind afire as his head bounced off of the convertible’s headrest. The bitter dust went straight to his brain, bolting him upright. The world went suddenly, painfully alive. His senses keened into overdrive, with his mind trying to play catch-up.
It was night. The stars shone above, twinkling. They were in a car, driving up a mountainside way, way, way too fast, yet it all seemed in slow motion. Moonlight cast an almost metallic glow upon the rolling, pastoral landscape they passed. In the distance, sheep dotted a hillside. The breeze carried the strong scent of pine and the delicate fragrance of lilac. Even above the roar of the engine, they could hear the crashing of waves upon the cliffs. They were on an island.
“Did it work?” Lopez asked as he gunned the convertible way too fast up the mountain road.
“Hell, yeah,” Davidson answered. “I’m telling you, at night, that Spice Market is a DEA agent’s wet dream.”
Brandt couldn’t ask what the private meant since he was too busy trying to keep his heart from exploding out his chest. Next, Davidson blew the mystery powder into Svengurd’s nose.
The tall man jerked awake, nearly coming up and out of the convertible’s backseat.
“Whoa there, big guy,” Davidson soothed as he kept Svengurd down.
Lopez glanced over his shoulder. “You better check his pulse and—” The corporal had to lay on the brake, skidding them around a hairpin turn.
“Dude, I’d better check mine,” the private added.
Brandt finally found his voice. “Where are we?”
“Heybeliada, the second of the Prince Islands,” Lopez answered as he shifted into fourth gear.
They were climbing quickly. To where, Brandt was still unclear.
“Why?” he croaked out.
Davidson brought a bottle of water to the sergeant’s lips as he answered, “Once we figured out that Walker pointed us toward the Prince Islands, it was really no biggie to figure out which one.”
“We? We figured it out?” Lopez challenged. “For a guy who was practically eating out of Monroe’s lap, you didn’t pick up much.”
“Hey!” Davidson protested. “I figured out that we were looking for the earliest form of Christianity, Greek Orthodox.”
“Yeah, and left me to—”
“How many churches?” Brandt interrupted his men’s constant brotherly rivalry.
“Dozens, but no worries,” Davidson said. “There’s one in particular that caught our eye.”
“Our eye? Seriously, you’re taking credit for that too?”
But Svengurd cut off Davidson’s retort. “Why this church?” The corporal then blanched and had to put his head between his legs, retching so hard that his wrist banged against the door handle, nearly prying his watch off.
“Seriously, you need to check his pulse,” Lopez urged, and then had to turn back to the road since they were driving without headlights.
&nbs
p; Clearing his throat, the sergeant spoke before Davidson could continue. “Give us the thumbnail version.”
“It’s the Ayia Trias monastery. Or Holy Trinity. Get it? Like the door.”
Brandt clearly remembered the silver door with the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim symbols. Still it didn’t seem enough to risk all their lives in a mad dash up a steep mountain. “Anything else to recommend it?”
“Well, you mean, besides the fact that it’s deep within the grounds of a Turkish naval base?”
Trying to shake off both the sloth of the poison and the buzz of the antidote, Brandt asked, “What do you mean?”
“We mean that the church is protected by three miles of barbed wire fencing, two dozen sentries, and a shitload of motion detectors.”
“Yeah, you can’t visit the place without special permission from the Turkish government. Seriously, how much protection do a bunch of cloistered monks need?” Davidson enthusiastically added.
The sergeant tried to correlate everything he’d just been told.
“Talk me through the pros and cons,” Brandt said as a wave of nausea hit like an RPG. Maybe Svengurd had it right after all.
Leaning over, the sergeant resisted the urge to hurl as Davidson explained. “Pros. If this group really arose from the Crucifixion, we’re looking for something old and something in the Greek Orthodox realm. Second, it is well guarded, which usually means there is something of immense value inside. Third, well, you’ll see the third in just a minute.”
“The cons?” Brandt said as he gulped hard. Lopez’s manic driving wasn’t helping his stomach.
Davidson checked the sergeant’s pulse as he answered. “You mean besides basing this entire mission on a sketchy declaration by Walker, who really can’t be asked to clarify? But other than that, we’re green-lit.”
“What about extraction?” Svengurd asked as he sat back up.
Lopez skid the car to a stop at the plateau. “Leave that to me. Now, if you guys can look through these.”
Stomach still roiling, Brandt accepted the binoculars, but his hands shook as he put them up to his eyes. Across the way, the monastery was perched upon another peak, nestled in a grove of trees.
“Looks quiet.”
“Now walk your way down the slope. About sixty degrees.”
Brandt followed the slope away from the monastery several hundred yards where he found a leak of light from the grassy hillside. “Where’s the illumination coming from?”
Lopez took the binoculars and fidgeted with them as he answered. “Not sure, but it turns out that light is the biggest pro of all.”
“Why?”
The corporal handed back the binoculars. “Look now.”
Not knowing what to expect, Brandt was surprised at how little the view had changed. “I don’t get it.” The light was still there, only it shimmered slightly, almost shifting wavelengths.
“That, my man, is cold cathode lighting.”
Then the sergeant got it. “Like the lab back in Paris.”
Davidson nodded much more gravely than before. “Somebody in there is inspecting ancient bones.”
Feeling a fierce sense of determination, Brandt asked, “You two have an attack plan?”
The private and corporal both smirked.
“Remember that naval base we told you about?” Off the sergeant’s nod, Lopez continued, “Guess what they just happen to have lying around?”
* * *
Lochum watched as Petir entered with a small bone sitting atop a velvet pillow. Ever so carefully, the man set it down on the steel table.
“You withheld, Tok,” the professor growled.
Obviously the deaf man had some way to hear, but Tok ignored his rebuke. “Read the inscription upon the lateral edge.”
Not wanting to admit that he struggled more than the far younger and quick-eyed Rebecca, Lochum allowed her to begin the translation.
“Unto all is all. For what is Caesar’s is Caesar’s and God’s is God’s, but in this Caesar will hold God close to his bosom for all children are sacred, most of all Him.”
His student looked up. “Yeah, but the Caesars got around. This doesn’t help delineate a search area.”
Carefully, Petir turned the bone over. “Examine the sagital plane.”
Having to contort her neck, Rebecca began reading. “The Eternal City is both first and last but hated and despised.” Once she stood back up she looked to Tok. “Why did you act surprised when I mentioned Rome? Haven’t you already looked there?”
“You don’t think we tried?” Petir relayed for Tok, a frown deeply embedded in the man’s face. Lochum could see decades of failure and discouragement in those lines. Lines like those on his own face.
“But it made no sense that they would lay his body there. Rome was the enemy. The city that killed Peter. The army that sacked Jerusalem.”
Lochum shook his head. “True, but Mary was not so worried about the Romans finding her son. Why would they bother? To them he was dead. No longer a threat. They had far more weighty concerns, such as quelling the dangerous Jewish uprising. The Virgin, I believe, was more concerned with her contemporaries and, given the convoluted political struggle, her fellow Jews were her adversaries. Who amongst them would venture to the heart of the Roman Empire to unearth the Knot’s secret?”
Instead of being impressed with Lochum’s sterling logic, Tok searched Rebecca’s face for confirmation. Why did people keep doing that? Had he not just explained quite eloquently the entire scenario?
“Speak, Monroe,” Petir demanded.
“I just…”
Lochum glared at his student. Even here. Even now, for all her moralizing, Rebecca was still going to outshine him. If he were not as interested in her words as Tok, the professor would have slapped her.
Rebecca cleared her throat. “I agree with everything Lochum said, but I think we are missing something.”
“Such as?” Tok inquired through his man.
“Yes, Mary would have wanted to get the bones somewhere no one would think to look, but each time they hid a body, they had help—someone from the region to select the exact location. I doubt if they would have just sent a guy into Rome and have him bury Christ just anywhere. It would have needed to be somewhere of significance.”
Damn, how he hated her, Lochum thought as he brought her into a hug. “Beautifully put, child.”
Tok did not seem satisfied. “And you have some idea where that is?”
Picking up one of the small silver coins, Rebecca looked at Petir, then Tok, then finally at Lochum. He nodded to encourage her. There was no point in holding back. Who was left to rescue them?
She was about to utter the most important words spoken in more than two millennia when the entire room shook.
* * *
Rebecca stumbled to one knee at the second shock wave. Was it an earthquake? Turkey was known for its geological fault lines. But she should have known better, as a wrecking ball smashed through the stone ceiling.
Everyone scattered under the pelting debris. Pocketing the silver coin, she made for the far wall. It might be right under the demolition, but that’s where Brandt would be.
“Lochum! Come on!” Rebecca yelled as a bulldozer’s shovel widened the hole in the rock.
But the professor had taken refuge under one of the worktables. Petir yelled up the stairwell, but Tok was down, splayed on the ground, a bloody gash across his forehead. This was their chance.
Ignoring the sacrilegious implications, Rebecca scrambled onto Mary’s casket, getting as close to the newly created exit as possible. Ducking as gunfire spat from the opening, she yelled, “I’m here! It’s me!”
A head popped from the edge. Brandt. “Rebecca?”
“Yes!” she cried, never so happy to see a man in her life.
The sergeant held out his arm. “Grab hold!”
“Wait!” she yelled and turned back to the professor. “Archibald, hurry!”
However, Lochum pull
ed himself deeper under the table.
As cover fire exploded overhead, Rebecca pled, “Just run!”
With no apology, the professor shook his head, and then covered it with his arms. Rebecca couldn’t believe it. For so many hours she had made herself believe that Lochum had just been faking as she had been faking. Or, at the least, the professor felt so deserted and desperate enough that he threw his lot in with the Knot. But now? Rescue was just inches away.
“Rebecca!” Brandt yelled as guards burst into the room, firing wildly.
Not needing encouragement, Rebecca crouched down, then with all the might in her legs, leapt toward Brandt’s open hands. He caught her by the wrists, nearly tearing her arms from their sockets, but caught her nonetheless.
In another feat of upper body strength he pulled her through their stony escape hatch. They tumbled backward onto the soft grassy slope as bullets whizzed past, narrowly missing them both.
Brandt pulled her close. “Are you hurt?”
Tears streaking her face, she shook her head. “No. I’m okay, really.”
Despite her assertions, his hands coursed up and down her back, arms, and legs checking for bullet wounds. “You’re sure?”
Looking into his stormy green-gray eyes, Rebecca was sure.
CHAPTER 27
Prince Islands, Turkey
As Rebecca reassured Brandt that she was fine, a grenade arced high over the edge of the hole. As it fell back to earth, it was coming straight for them. Brandt smothered her body trying to protect her, but he knew when that grenade exploded, there wouldn’t be any protecting.
“Yeah, right!” Lopez yelled as he swung the bulldozer’s shovel over them, catching the explosive, then lifting the detonation far over their heads. “Hey! I just invented grenade lacrosse!”
30 Pieces of Silver: An Extremely Controversial Historical Thriller Page 33