by Aiden James
I whispered for Alistair to come help me lift the bodies off the pile. At the same time, our soldier buddies resumed their patrol of the immediate area. I saw several flashlight beams pass within a foot of the gaping hole in the middle of the tomb’s plaster door. I felt compelled to get the silver sucker out from its hiding place as quickly as possible, based on the current vigil going on outside the tomb. Extracting the coin without making any noise would probably be impossible. However, moving the decayed bodies out of the way first would ensure less noise.
So that’s what we did, and before long Jeremy and Amy joined in taking turns in lifting and moving the pile out of the way. I guess one could say it was like dismantling a pile of kindling wood, since the dried and leathery remains were a lot like sticks—especially when the leg and arm bones separated from a torso. I was especially impressed with Amy, since I knew she had never done anything like this before. My boy and Jeremy may not have relished this sort of thing any more than I did, but they moved quickly and quietly with nary a grimace.
It was a great way to pass the time as we quietly switched places while dismantling the pile. We never created a disturbance loud enough to reveal our presence to the handful of soldiers hanging out in the Al-haroun bone yard.
Finally, sometime after midnight I was able to reach in under the bare skeleton of a young child and grab the shekel. A mummified withered hand gripped it tightly, as if its owner once understood the coin’s tremendous worth and was determined to try and take it along into the afterlife.
“It’s the right size and shape, Pops,” whispered Alistair. He admired it as I held it up high enough to catch the light rays from one of the soldiers’ lantern resting against the tomb across from the one we occupied. “It looks like the real deal.”
Holding one of my coins always brings me the same sensation. One of healing at first that is always followed by a painful remembrance of what the entire collection of coins means. Once the sensation of wholeness wanes, it gives way to terrible memories of seeing Jesus of Nazareth beaten and then crucified—all on account of my betrayal. I can still smell the blood and sweat that flowed off his body, as well as feel the terror and see his anguished eyes that knew exactly where to find me in the crowd demanding his torture and execution.
“Yes, I believe it is authentic,” I said, trying to enjoy a light chuckle about the irony of my becoming a late-century connoisseur for items attached to my own sordid history.
The glow had largely dissipated, and an odd mixture of elation and regret remained. Although the elation that comes with a new coin discovery is the same, the regret washing over me hurts a little bit worse. So why do I do it? Why do I avidly search for the very things that cause me such heartache? Just one reason: to get to the end and see if it’s enough to buy me a ticket into eternal paradise.
I showed my trophy to Amy and Jeremy, who seemed only mildly impressed. I suppose a silver shekel that was common coinage back in Roman times doesn’t quite compete with a hundred foot crystal tree. Rather than waste any more time doing the show and tell party, I carefully deposited the coin into my pants pocket.
“Now...we need to get the hell out of here and back to Tehran.” I moved back to the hole in the mausoleum door.
From what I could tell, the soldiers had settled in. It appeared that two more had ventured into the area. Maybe they weren’t looking for anybody after all. They seemed content, and I detected the odor of liquor. It reminded me of haoma, but stronger than the drink of choice for those who still practice Zoroastrianism.
“Shit! I don’t think these guys are going anywhere soon,” I said, angrily. It would be nearly impossible to leave unless the soldiers moved on. Maybe a few more hours would make a difference. “Let’s just be ready to climb out of here quickly when the opportunity to leave presents itself.”
“I think we should bring Amy and Ali up front. so we can get them out first,” suggested Jeremy.
In the faint glow from the nearby lantern, the expression on his face was one of determination. Very good. As long as he and I were on the same page in clearing everyone out of this cramped tomb, we’d increase our chances of escaping Al-haroun unscathed.
“That sounds like an excellent idea, Jeremy,” I told him, motioning for Amy and Alistair to move up close to us. “Now, we’ll just wait....”
My words trailed off as I heard a commotion from across the street. Heavy footsteps followed the sound, along with several automobile door slams. The footsteps were getting closer...running toward us!
“What in the hell do you think is going on out there?” said Alistair, competing with Jeremy and me to steal a peek.
“Everybody duck down as low as you can!” I whispered forcefully, trying to add enough ‘umph!’ to match the growing feeling of dread washing over me. We were about to be discovered—that’s what my gut told me. “Stay as low as you can and don’t make a frigging sound!”
We all crouched down low, to the point the tomb’s collective stench from filth, rotting flesh, and stale dust filled our nostrils. The approaching footsteps slowed when they neared our hideout. I held out hope that we might go unnoticed once more. But then several high-powered halogen flashlights were shoved in through the door hole that Jeremy had created.
The light obliterated the darkness inside the tomb. It clearly revealed everything, including the mass of ancient bones in the depository behind us and the newer corpses and loose body parts on the tomb’s floor around us. I knew what to expect and not be overly surprised. Jeremy gasped only slightly. Alistair probably knew what was in here alongside him in the darkness, but couldn’t hide his surprise when a corpse with its gaping mouth laid open was less than six inches from his face. Still, his gasp was nowhere near as shrill as Amy’s—not that I’m picking on the lone female in our group. Lord knows she had already impressed me with her courageous determination to rescue her brother.
As unprepared as we were for what just happened, we were even less prepared for what came next.
“William? What in the hell’s going on in there?!”
Chapter 21
To be fair, my friend Agent Sam Daniels from the CIA should be credited with our rescue. At least, he should get most of the credit for actually showing up in Al-haroun. The rest of the accolades should go to whoever placed a call to the Embassy of Switzerland and told them exactly where to find us in the wee hours that Thursday morning.
It wouldn’t surprise me if Zoran was the one who called. It does surprise me how this cat seems to be everywhere and nowhere all of the time.
Sam Daniels was a Georgia State Trooper for nearly fifteen years before moving on to America’s Central Intelligence Agency. I’ve often wondered if all that time spent chasing speeding cars and arresting drunken miscreants is what siphoned his sense of humor. He’s all business. Handsome in a traditional marine buzz-cut sort of way, his hazel-eyed stare and angry square jaw can kill a joke fest faster than a bad amateur comic at a stand-up club.
A slight grunt was all Sam had to say after Amy and Alistair added their gratitude to the sincere ‘thank you’ from Jeremy. I already knew better than to say anything, though I’m sure he duly noted my sheepish smirk. His eyebrows were raised ever so slightly as he eyed me with irritation that was almost fatherly. Honestly, that kind of thing rolls right off my shoulders easily, as it does from all of my colleagues. In a few years I’ll have to ‘disappear’ anyway, and if my kid and I fail to find the last eight coins in the next ten to twenty years, I can still check up on old Sam and the gang in their retirement years from afar.
Anyway, right after we climbed out from the tomb we were quickly ushered to a black limousine parked near the spot we last saw Zoran’s ancient Volvo. From there, we sped past the soldiers lined up all along Al-haroun’s main streets, and we were soon back on the highway. Our driver must’ve been given strict orders to get us the hell out of the mountains as quickly as possible, and both Alistair and Amy clung to the door handles with white-knuckle tenac
ity until we reached the suburban sprawl of Tehran.
“So, I take it that we’re not going back to the Ferdowsi Hotel,” I said to Sam, when the limousine raced past the exit that would’ve taken us back to a warm shower and something more substantial than a nutritional bar to eat.
“Yep, that’s correct.” His Georgian drawl was genteel, like a rich southern aristocrat about to broach the subject of crude oil futures. “We’re all heading home to the States tonight.”
“What about our bags in storage at the hotel?” Alistair sounded deeply worried. “I’ve got an expensive laptop that won’t survive standard air shipment back to the USA!”
“Your things are already on the plane,” said Sam, grinning slightly. “Cedric had that arranged yesterday, even though some of us didn’t think ya’ll would survive and come back to claim them.” His grin widened to a wicked smile—dude is a lot more handsome when you can get him to do that.
“My bags too?” Amy eyed Sam suspiciously. I’ve come to understand it takes her a moment to warm up to others.
“Yes,” said Sam. “Yours and William’s luggage are there as well.”
“Well, all right,” I said, and then asked a question I’d been thinking about since our rescue. “Any ideas on why there were a ton of soldiers prowling around Al-haroun?”
“No more of an idea than why in the hell you four were digging around in a burial pit!”
Ouch and touché! I sure as hell didn’t want to say anything about our coin search, and immediately prayed that Al-haroun would soon be as good as forgotten. I quickly sought to change the subject.
“I suppose we won’t be taking the same flight path back home that we took to get here. Correct?”
“Do you even need to ask that?” Sam smirked, and then glanced over his shoulder toward the driver.
He sat next to Jeremy as they faced the rear of the car, and Amy, Alistair, and I sat across from them facing the front. A small table sat between us, and this limo came with a double bar. A stiff drink sounded wonderful. But I decided to wait until we were thirty-five thousand feet above the ground before indulging myself. Especially since no one else seemed interested in joining me at this point.
“No, I suppose not,” I agreed. “Dulles via Frankfort would be the most logical path, I’m sure, unless Amsterdam is the transfer point.”
“Amsterdam it is, this time. But we’ll be there less than an hour and then carry on to Washington.”
And that was where the small talk ended. It wasn’t awkward for me, and I’m not sure how it was for the others. But no one in the car said anything else until we arrived at Khomeini International Airport. Actually, we conversed no more until after we boarded one of the private Boeing jets the CIA keeps handy for when things go awry, and there’s an urgent need to get someone out of trouble and safely home.
In this case, I guess a botched surveillance trip and failure to secure information on the Russians’ progress with FGR technology would count as such a need.
“William! So glad you could make it, my man!”
Cedric Tomlinson’s warm greeting reverberated throughout the first-class compartment. I guess it truly would’ve been first class if it didn’t contain a hospital bed for him and enough room for his two attendants, or nurses. They immediately moved to his heavily bandaged side when he grimaced after his celebratory welcome to me. The ‘nurses’ were two young blondes who just happened to look like high-class strippers, or the kind of female fodder once prevalent in eighties rock n’ roll videos. Cedric’s preferred decade.
The flight home promised to be intriguing if not a helluva lot of fun! At least Alistair and Amy could give Cedric a hard time for his antics instead of picking on me for a change.
“It’s okay, it’s okay ladies,” said Cedric, playfully shooing the girls away from his side. He buttoned up his shirt past the bandage line and covered up his legs with a blanket, as if suddenly aware he was half-naked. “Sam, show everybody to their seats, and we’ll get this big bad bird up in the air!”
Cedric motioned for Sam and me to sit in two luxury seats close to him, and for Jeremy, Amy, and Alistair to choose from several other seats in the section. Alistair chose a window seat not far from my seat after reclaiming his carry-on bag and his laptop, while Amy and Jeremy took seats together across from him.
Once we were safely in the air and speeding toward Amsterdam, I agreed to join Cedric in having a cocktail. A dry martini for me, and a pina colada for him since he really wasn’t supposed to indulge in anything other than milk or water at this point. His recovery was borderline miraculous for a normal human, and knowing his incredible tolerance for liquor was the only reason I didn’t turn motherly on him.
Meanwhile, Sam fidgeted impatiently in his seat. There was something urgent he wanted to discuss. I must admit it brings a little joy to my life watching Sammy squirm a little and have to kiss up to Cedric—his direct superior in the agency.
Finally, after feigning he had no idea what Sam was agitated about, Cedric asked for one of his ‘assistants’ to bring his laptop over to his bedside. He then asked Sam and me to join him there.
“So, William, did ya’ll ever think about the cameras—especially the ones in your wristwatches—when you were down in that amazing cavern?”
“To be honest, no,” I said, surprised that this was the first question presented to me. I looked down at my wristwatch, feeling foolish that I entirely forgot about the camera feature in the upper right hand side of the clock face. “The smaller hidden cameras became history on Sunday, when my dad and Amy were captured by Petr Stanislav. But I forgot all about the cameras you mentioned in our wristwatches.”
“I thought that might happen,” said Cedric, wearing the elfin expression I’ve learned to admire and loathe over the years. “That’s why I had them calibrated so we could turn them on remotely.”
“What?!”
That was Alistair’s response, as apparently he was listening in on our conversation. Amy and Jeremy might have been oblivious, since it seemed they were catching up on lost time, but they were paying attention now.
“Well, shit,” Cedric sighed. His eyes remained playful. “Come on over girls and boys, since we might as well let all of you see what we’ve been looking at. Plus, it will give me a chance to formally meet Mr. Jeremy Golden Eagle.”
He motioned for everyone—including his latest girlfriends—to come on over. Sam looked mortified in response to this development, until Cedric reminded him that, in our closed confines, it would be damned near impossible to keep anything discussed on the aircraft a secret from non-agency personnel within earshot. When Agent Daniels continued to protest, Cedric suggested waiting to show or discuss anything until after Michael Lavoie viewed the same footage with his general staff in Washington.
It came as no surprise to me that ole Sammy didn’t want to miss out on being the first to share and discuss what our cameras apparently captured. Especially, since if we waited, he might not get an invitation to that party. I guess toeing the company line only goes so far.
After briefly speaking with Jeremy, Cedric pulled up video footage from all three of our wristwatch cameras on his laptop. Each camera was given a dedicated square on the screen.
“Now, I won’t spend any time on the FGR pictures we picked up from your cameras this past weekend—which were exactly what we needed. I personally thank you for that, Alistair and Amy,” he said. “And actually, I won’t spend much time on the fantastic imagery of what can only be the ‘Tree of Life’ from this past afternoon. What we do have questions on are two things captured by your cameras a little later on.”
Cedric fast-forwarded the images from all three of our wristwatches for a few minutes, until the dim images from being underground suddenly gave way to brilliant and colorful light.
“The pictures are amazing, and I goddamn guarantee that very few people have ever seen anything quite like this shit!” Cedric paused to make sure we were all with him. Everyone’s eye
s were locked onto the crystal tree’s brilliance captured on his laptop screen. He fast-forwarded through more images. “Again, we don’t need to review the Soviets’ invasion into the cave, and the ensuing confrontation between you and them.... However, there is something blurred that shows up at several points. Check this out.”
Cedric ran the camera images at normal speed again. Thankfully, none of us—not Alistair, Amy, Jeremy, or I—made a sound of any kind. But I sweated it out, anxiously hoping Cedric or Sam would insist on moving on from the blurred images of Ophanim that somehow had become indiscernible. Obviously, the angel didn’t want its likeness known, and the power of Ophanim’s reach extended far beyond the sacred oil poured upon our heads. In all likelihood, other than the Magi we met, Amy, Jeremy, Alistair and I were the only living souls to ever see this angel and survive long enough to talk about it to the outside world.
“Did any of you see what this thing was?”
Cedric looked at us all, his eyes scanning each of our faces for the truth.
“No....we didn’t see anything,” said Amy. My respect ratcheted up several notches on that one—deceit nicely done.
“William? Alistair?”
We shook our heads ‘no’, as did Jeremy.
“All right,” said Cedric, after exchanging disappointed looks with Sam. “Here’s the second thing that came up. This time the image only comes from one camera...William’s.”
Sam eyed me thoughtfully while we all kept an eye on the box containing my camera’s images. At first, I saw nothing. But as we were running for our lives when the cave floor began to crumble, the lens on my wristwatch’s camera caught something. Something unexpected, or better, someone.
A shadowed human form walked through the fiery ground, dragging another human form that was much bigger than it.
This is where my intuitions come in handy, or drive me crazy. If I’m right, then my reputation for being able to figure out complex problems quickly remains intact. If I’m wrong...well I’m always hopeful that won’t happen.