‘Why was I not told?’
‘They did not want to burden you.’ Ezra shrugged. ‘I thought you should know. Maybe you will take the matter of your safety a little more seriously.’
Lev’s head swam. ‘I need to get out of here.’
‘Back to the flat?’ Ezra’s firm gaze told him no other answer was acceptable.
‘Yes.’ Lev pushed up from the table.
‘Have you paid attention to the television reports coming in from the Himalayas?’ Ezra walked on the outside of the sidewalk, his eyes always roving and watchful. He was an excellent bodyguard. Lev knew the signs from having worked personal-security detachments.
‘No.’ Lev walked easily, with no trace of a limp. His prosthesis had been with him for more than thirteen years, and had become part of him long ago.
‘According to your file, you knew Professor Thomas Lourds.’
For a moment, Lev’s heart sank, thinking of the two guards in the Gaza whose names he couldn’t remember. Thomas Lourds was one of the most vibrant men he’d ever met, and a good friend. The world was a better place with him in it. ‘Has something happened to Thomas?’
‘No, he’s fine.’
‘Then I still know him. Thomas and I are old friends.’
‘Evidently he’s had a bit of good fortune.’
Lev smiled a true smile then. ‘Knowing Thomas, I’m not surprised. He was always the luckiest man I’ve ever known. What has happened?’
‘He discovered some kind of forgotten temple in the Himalayas. The story has been all over the media. I’m surprised you didn’t know.’
‘I’ve been studying the books and the notes I’ve gathered for this last year. There’s been little time in my life for anything else.’
‘The news broke concerning the story three days ago.’
‘He found something?’
‘Ancient artifacts that date back to 5800 BC, according to the BBC reports I saw.’
‘In the Himalayas?’
‘Yes.’
Lev shook his head. ‘Only Thomas could do something like that.’
In the small flat, Lev sat with Ezra and watched television. Lourds’s find in the Scholar’s Rock Temple was on the BBC news channels. The British were making the most of their scoop, but other media agencies had swooped in on the story as well.
Watching the raw footage of the temple caverns and the scholar’s rocks, Lev was impressed. The find was already turning out to be one that would cause history books to be rewritten and launch future studies.
‘I remember Lourds from the Atlantis discovery he worked on a couple of years ago.’ Ezra sat on the low couch with his elbows on his knees. A pair of pistols lay on the coffee table in front of him. ‘And there was that cache of books he found in Istanbul that no one knew about. He’s an interesting man.’
‘Thomas would laugh to hear you say that. He would act like it was nothing.’ Lev smiled knowingly. ‘But inside he would preen like a peacock.’ He stretched out his leg and took the weight off the prosthesis. ‘When I talk to him about this, I’m going to ask him why he didn’t find this the last time we were in the Himalayas.’
‘You were in the Himalayas?’
Lev nodded. ‘A few times.’ On some of those instances, he’d been there on Mossad business watching Indian and Pakistani troop movements. ‘Thomas and I worked among the Muslim Chinese Uighur tribes. Both of us have linguistic backgrounds, and we documented a lot of information on the tribesmen. They served as the custodians of the Mongol Empire. Their records, once Thomas and I had them deciphered, gave us a lot of information about the Mongols, trade along the Silk Road, and the Uighur Khaganate.’
‘And you lived in the Himalayas while you were doing this?’ Ezra looked impressed.
Lev nodded. ‘We did. On the southwestern side of the Himalayas.’
‘Sounds like good times.’
‘It was.’
‘That was sarcasm, by the way.’
‘I know.’ Lev smiled. ‘That was about fifteen years ago, when I was better equipped for getting around in mountainous terrain, before I lost my leg.’ He continued watching the special, and for the time being, his own problems seemed far away.
That night, in front of his computer, Lev sorted through the digital images of illustrated manuscripts he’d assembled. He had read the translations so many times that he’d practically memorized them. Leaning back in his chair, he tried to gather his thoughts.
He was missing a key to the puzzle before him, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.
In the other room, Ezra watched ESPN on the television. European football filled the screen.
Thinking about Lourds, Lev accessed some of his off-site files and brought up photographs taken from the time he and his friend had spent among the Uighurs. Those had been good times. Both of them had been young and competitive, with each other as well as with their hosts.
And they had made friends. Over the years, Lev had kept in touch with some of them. A man who lived his life constantly on the go hung on to the friends he made even though he didn’t see them for years.
Closing out the pictures, Lev stared at the image of Mohammad flying on al-Buraq. He clicked through the images, then saw the one that most disturbed him: the one where Mohammad had unknowingly dropped his copy of the Koran and the Scroll that foretold the future.
When he’d first heard that story, Lev hadn’t been able to forget it. A united Muslim front would mean the end of Israel. The jihad would sweep across the globe, and the world would never know peace again.
No matter what he had to do, who he had to risk, the Book and Scroll couldn’t fall into Muslim hands. He had sworn that when he’d found the first image of the falling Book and Scroll.
Lev had wanted to know if the story was just a fabrication. Or if it was true, he had wanted to find those things and save his people.
He frowned, displeased at how firmly he’d gotten stuck on the project. It wasn’t his own hubris that kept him from seeking out help. The Israeli government hadn’t wanted him spreading the knowledge that he was looking for Mohammad’s lost Koran. Even admitting the Book might exist would be harmful to his people.
There were few people he could trust.
But he trusted one man. And maybe it was time to bring him into the fold.
If he would come.
Lev brought up Facebook and quickly went through his list of contacts.
Ziya Kadeer had been a young boy fifteen years ago when Lev had first met him. Now he was an import/export businessman in Artux, in the northeastern section of the Tarim Basin, the foothills of the Himalayas. They still exchanged letters, though these days they were more likely to be texts or Facebook messages.
When he checked, Lev found that Ziya was logged on to Facebook. He opened a dialogue box.
Ziya, how are you?
I am well, Professor Strauss! Good to hear from you!
They caught up for a few moments, then Lev made his decision.
Have you heard from Thomas lately?
No, but I see he is in the news! Again!!!
I know. He was always the lucky one.
Lev sent that, then immediately thought better of it and appended the message with another.
No, let me take that back. Thomas has put nothing ahead of his work. Those kind make their own good fortune.
And Lev had decided that what his own project needed was a little luck.
I have a favor to ask, my friend.
Anything.
Can you get someone to carry a message to Thomas for me?
You cannot call him?
I’d rather this be private. The only communications they have up in those mountains will be whatever the BBC provides. Or perhaps a short-wave radio.
Sure. But it will take a few days to get someone up there where they are.
I can wait. Thomas isn’t going anywhere for a while if he can help it.
Lev felt guilty for what he was
asking Lourds to do, but it couldn’t be helped. Maybe if Lourds looked at the material for a day or two, he could help break the problem. Or at least provide a fresh perspective to work from.
I appreciate this, Ziya.
No sweat, prof. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t ever have been able to go to college. I owe you.
Thanks.
They talked a bit longer, then Lev passed on the message to Lourds, signed off, and returned to his work. At first, he thought he’d been too quick to send for Lourds, but tonight wasn’t the first time he’d considered getting in touch with his old friend. The Israeli government people Lev was dealing with wouldn’t be happy, though. They didn’t want outsiders involved in this project.
Gazing back at the television in the living area, Lev saw another television spot about Lourds and the find at the temple.
The Israeli government definitely wasn’t going to appreciate the way Lourds seemed to draw the public eye.
But Lev was convinced there was no other choice. He’d taken his search as far as he could on his own. It was time for new blood.
The cell phone on the desk vibrated. Lev picked it up and punched the button. ‘Hello.’
‘Lev?’
He tried to place the female voice and couldn’t.
‘I’m in trouble. I need help.’ The speaker sounded hurt and afraid. ‘Please, Lev.’
His fist tightened on the phone.
‘Lev, it’s Alice.’
Lev remembered her then. Alice Reinstadler had been Lourds’s lover when they’d all been attending the Vienna School of Languages. He’d always had a crush on her, but he’d never acted on it out of respect for Lourds. Then, after whatever had happened between Lourds and Alice had happened, she’d gotten married off by her parents to that racist imbecile, Klaus Von Volker.
‘Alice.’
‘Yes.’ She choked back a sob, but sounded happy that he’d recognized her voice. ‘I need help, Lev.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s Klaus. I … He …’ Her voice broke, and she couldn’t go on.
Lev had never met Klaus Von Volker, but what he’d seen of the man on the news had convinced him that he wouldn’t like the man. ‘It’s all right. Where are you?’
‘In Jerusalem. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. My parents wouldn’t understand. I told you how they were when we were in school together in Vienna.’
Lev remembered. Whenever Herr and Frau Reinstadler showed up at the university to visit, Alice had always become incredibly tense and unhappy.
She went on. ‘Maybe this was the wrong thing to do. So much time has passed. I’m sorry to have bothered you.’
‘Alice …’ Lev let out a breath. He’d been scared for months, knowing he had enemies out there, but Ezra’s story about the two dead guards made him feel even more vulnerable.
‘It’s all right. I understand.’
Afraid she would hang up, Lev responded immediately. ‘I’m coming to get you. Tell me where you are.’
She was quiet for a moment, and Lev feared she’d thought better of contacting him and hung up. Then she spoke again. ‘On Saint Mark’s Road. Near the Lutheran Hostel.’
‘I’ll be there. Give me just a few minutes.’ Lev stood and took up his coat, already heading for the door.
16
Lutheran Hostel
St. Mark’s Road
Jerusalem, the State of Israel
July 28, 2011
Ezra hadn’t agreed to the rescue trip, but in the end Lev hadn’t given him a choice. After Alice’s call, Lev had escaped from the apartment. Unfortunately, Ezra had discovered his getaway and come looking, finding him through a tracking device in his prosthesis Lev hadn’t known about. The young Mossad agent hadn’t caught up to Lev until he’d reached his destination, though, and his argument had proven persuasive enough to stay.
Lev sat in the passenger seat and tried calling the cellphone number Alice had used to contact him. She wasn’t answering.
‘Still no reply?’
‘No.’ Lev closed the phone unhappily.
‘Perhaps she’s in a place where she cannot talk.’ Ezra handled the car smoothly, negotiating the light evening traffic with ease. His gaze shifted relentlessly, always tracking and evaluating their surroundings. A machine pistol lay between the seats.
Lev wore a bulletproof vest despite his protests. The heavy garment itched in the heat. ‘You didn’t hear her. She was beside herself.’ Every time he replayed the conversation in his mind, Alice sounded more desperate.
Ezra shrugged. ‘Maybe she and her husband made up. A lot of people have arguments. Too much to drink, a few harsh words, then they make up later.’
‘Her husband is Austrian People’s Party leader Von Volker. He wouldn’t show his face in this city.’
‘Ah.’ Ezra shook his head. ‘That man I do not like. Anti-Semitic with ties to Iran. A partnership forged in hell for certain. What is this woman doing with him if she is such a good friend to you?’
‘Her parents arranged the marriage.’
‘What were they thinking?’
‘They wanted Alice to marry into nobility. They think the same way as Von Volker when it comes to a unified Germany and Austria.’
‘Are you sure she’s a friend?’ Ezra braked, then turned right onto St. Mark’s Road.
‘I am.’
‘With parents like that …’
‘Alice thinks her own thoughts.’
‘She just doesn’t pick her own husbands.’ Ezra shook his head. ‘My apologies. That was uncalled for.’
‘It’s all right. You don’t know Alice. If you did, you wouldn’t wonder about this. She was coerced by her parents, and she’d recently had her heart broken.’ Lourds hadn’t meant to do that, and Lev never faulted his friend. Anyone who knew Lourds should have known he’d never give himself to anything but his work. ‘Alice was hurt, confused, and wanted someone to love her. I’m sure Von Volker looked like quite a prize at the time.’
‘What does she look like?’ Slowing the car, Ezra scanned the nearly deserted sidewalks.
Another car, this one also carrying Mossad agents, trailed after them. Ezra had called in the second line of defense, and Lev couldn’t even imagine the flak the young man had endured to put that together.
‘Blond. Petite. Very pretty.’ Lev searched for her along the sidewalks as well.
‘How long has it been since you’ve seen her?’
‘Years. Her husband doesn’t let her stray far.’ Lev felt sad for Alice when he mentioned that, but there’d been nothing he could do.
‘Maybe she’s changed.’
A moment later, a feminine form stepped out of the shadows near a coffee shop whose neon signs still shone. The moonlight and neon highlighted the pale blond hair, but the darkness masked her face.
‘There she is.’ Lev pointed.
‘I see her.’ Ezra applied the brakes and reached for the machine pistol. He spoke into the headset comm he wore. ‘I have eyes-on. The subject is in the alley by the coffee shop.’
‘Understood. Do you want us in close?’
‘No. Just play everything loose.’ Ezra pulled the car into the alley only a few feet from the woman.
Lev popped the door open and got out, avoiding Ezra’s desperate grab. ‘Alice?’
She turned to him then, and the neon lights from the coffee shop took away just enough of the night to reveal her features in profile. Even then, Lev knew the woman wasn’t Alice.
Before he could say anything, she turned and ran, and he knew something was very wrong. He turned to shout a warning to Ezra, but the young Mossad agent’s neck blossomed bright blood that spattered Lev’s face. Ezra staggered, managed to get the machine pistol in his hand, and went down.
The second car shrieked to a stop behind them. Before the two agents in it could get out, the vehicle exploded, leaping into the air and flipping over. Flames enveloped it, and the heat drove Lev backwards.
Three men dressed in black erupted from the alley. They bristled with weapons, but one man carried a curious pistol. The weapon hissed rather than detonated, and something sharp struck Lev in the throat.
Lev wrapped his hands around his neck and felt the small dart lodged in the hollow of his jaw. A warm lassitude filled his head, invaded his brain, and he was falling.
The men were good.
Watching from the shadows, Rayan Mufarrij appreciated the simple, brutal attack. If he’d had the manpower, the ability to manipulate the target as these men had, he would have done the same thing. The woman – not the one that had been there, but the one she was supposed to represent – meant something to Lev Strauss. She wasn’t who she’d claimed to be, though. Strauss had started moving away before his attackers had struck. He’d recognized her as a stranger, or someone other than who he thought she was.
Mufarrij stayed where he was and kept watching. He was a patient man. A man in his calling either learned patience quickly or died. Muffarrij was forty years old, and twenty-five years into his chosen vocation.
If anyone intercepted him and recognized him, his life would be forfeit. The Israelis wanted him dead for assassinations of their people. The Shiites would kill him on general principles, and Colonel Davari had lost key personnel on operations that had brushed too closely to ones Mufarrij had been conducting. Al-Qaeda had placed a bounty on him for all the death and destruction he’d wreaked on their numbers in his native Saudi Arabia.
All in all, Jerusalem wasn’t a good place for him to be, and an even worse place for him to get caught playing in the backyards of others.
He stood in the alley with the motorcycle he’d had waiting for him when he’d followed Von Volker’s mercenary team to Jerusalem. Local contacts, men he trusted and had worked with before, had supplied him with it and his weapons.
Across the street, working in the light and twisting shadows given off by the burning car, Lev Strauss’s kidnappers gathered him up and carried him to a small cargo van at the back of the alley. Mufarrij knew the alley was a dead end from his earlier recon of the area.
The Temple Mount Code Page 10