Book Read Free

Hannah and the Magic Eye

Page 13

by Tyler Enfield


  “Where is Henri? You said you would bring Henri.”

  “First show me the ring.”

  Hannah shook her head. “No. I must see Henri first.”

  “Always the stubborn girl. One day that hard head of yours might land you in trouble. Just look what it’s done for your grandfather.” Weisman signaled to Jurowitz. He opened the rear door of the sedan and yanked Henri to his feet. Henri’s white mustache was bushier than ever, and he appeared to have his hands tied behind his back. But even from this distance, Hannah could see his face was beaming.

  “Henri!” she called. “Henri, are you all right?”

  “I am fine, Hannah, just fine! And now that I see you, I am even better!”

  Henri moved to greet her, and Jurowitz stopped him with a pistol, pressing it into Henri’s side. Hannah gasped, and Clooney clutched her shoulder.

  “Your reunion will have to wait,” said Weisman. “First, we have a deal to complete. Let’s start with the ring. If it truly is the Seal of Solomon, your grandfather will go free. But if this is a trick of some kind, things will not go well for you. Or your dear Henri. Do we understand each other?”

  Hannah nodded. But inside she was churning. Where was Andrepont? The inspector should have arrived by now. If he didn’t show up quickly, she would actually have to turn the ring over to Weisman to get Henri back.

  Professor Weisman seemed to notice Hannah glancing about. “You are expecting someone?” she said, glancing around with Hannah. “Inspector Andrepont, perhaps?”

  Hannah gasped. Weisman gave a smug grin and said, “Or perhaps your inspector is already here.”

  Weisman signaled Jurowitz again. He opened the car’s other rear door, and this time dragged out Inspector Andrepont, placing him at gunpoint beside Henri.

  “I am so sorry, Hannah,” Andrepont called to her from the car. “They caught me from behind, just moments ago. You best do what they say, or I fear someone will get hurt.”

  Hannah was devastated. With both Henri and Andre­pont at gunpoint she had no choice but to give Weisman

  the ring.

  “Hannah,” said Weisman, extending her open palm. “The Seal of Solomon. Give it to me.”

  Hannah reached into the front pocket of her dress. She removed the ring, looking at it in her hand. She saw the six-pointed star imprinted with the jewels of power. She saw the secret name of God engraved into the band.

  This was all wrong. It shouldn’t have to be like this.

  “Hannah!” said Weisman, more forcefully this time. “The ring! Give it to me now!”

  Hannah looked at Henri. She had never seen a face more torn by emotion. This must be the hardest moment of his life, she thought. To see his life’s work, the Seal of Solomon, just a few feet away. To be so close, and yet so far away. And to also know Julien’s efforts to protect the ring were about to be destroyed.

  Henri’s eyes met Hannah’s, and he slowly shook his head.

  He mouthed the words, let it go…

  Hannah glanced once more at the Seal of Solomon. She looked at Professor Weisman and the woman’s unbearable grin. Hannah turned to the sea, where the waves crashed at the embankment and sprayed over the railing. She threw the ring as hard as she could.

  “No!” cried Weisman lurching at the railing. “You fool! What have you done!”

  In the heat of the moment, Andrepont shoved Jurowitz against the car and then knocked him over the head, disarming him with the blow. Henri pinned him down and Andrepont handcuffed him.

  Weisman spun around to face Hannah, her face red with rage, her eyes burning. And then her expression changed to a look of shock and confusion. She was staring into a slingshot, aimed directly at her. Slowly, she lifted her hands in the air.

  “Do not move,” said Clooney, keeping the slingshot leveled. “Do you know who I am?”

  Weisman gulped, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I forget your name.”

  “I do not look familiar? Not even from the movies?”

  She looked entirely confused. “I supposed you do look… a little bit… like a young version of George Clooney?” she ventured.

  “That is right. George Clooney,” he said. “But my name is Samir Yusef, and I am from Jerusalem.”

  Just then, Andrepont seized Weisman and handcuffed her, and she slumped in astonishment. Andrepont threw her and Jurowitz into the backseat of the car and then radioed in for assistance.

  Hannah ran to her grandfather and threw her arms about his waist, squeezing him hard as she could. “Henri! I was so worried about you. Were you scared?”

  “Only for you, my clever little fox,” he said, pulling her tighter.

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “Not in the least,” he said. “They needed me alive to help them find the treasure. Or so Weisman thought. Little did they know, you’re the real archaeologist of this family.” He released his grip and bent to look at her.

  His eyes twinkled as he gazed into her own. He appeared to be searching for something, looking first into one eye, then the other, and finally, as though finding what he sought, he nodded with satisfaction and gave her a wink. “Always knew you had it,” he said, standing. “It is no small thing, going through this world with an eye like that.”

  Andrepont rejoined them. He made sure no one was hurt, and assured Hannah that Professor Weisman and Jurowitz would be heading straight to jail.

  “And you,” he said, addressing Clooney and the slingshot in his hand. “You know it is illegal to carry a slingshot?”

  Clooney looked down, biting his lip.

  Andrepont said, “Good thing my officer didn’t take it from you back at the Temple Mount. I think you saved the day. Well done,” he said. “Very well done.”

  r

  Inspector Andrepont turned the Cancellarii over to the Akko police. Then he drove Henri, Hannah, and Clooney back to Jerusalem, the four of them talking at once, trading stories of their adventures, each demanding to know how the other had figured out this or that.

  Andrepont dropped them off before Damascus Gate at the Old City. The three of them thanked the inspector and waved goodbye. They passed beneath the limestone arch of the Old City, Henri and Hannah walking hand-in-hand.

  Once inside the Muslim Quarter, Henri took a deep breath, as though inhaling the world. “I love this place,” he said. “I love Jerusalem, and I love its mysteries. For that I thank you,” he said to Hannah.

  “Thank me? But why? You must be heartbroken. I cast your life’s work into the sea.”

  “Did you?” he said. “But don’t you see, Hannah? The mystery lives on! For people like us, it’s not the answer we seek. It’s the journey of discovery, both inside and out. It is the adventure!”

  “The adventure,” she said, smiling. “That I understand.”

  “And I must thank you, young man,” Henri said to Clooney, clapping a hand upon his shoulder, “for looking after my greatest treasure and keeping her safe in my absence. It appears you did a splendid job.”

  “It was not easy,” said Clooney. “This girl is like a magnet to trouble.”

  Henri chuckled knowingly, and then halted, looking around. “I have an idea. This way, I want to show you both something.”

  Henri purchased three tickets at a small booth. He led them up an old staircase attached to the outer wall of the city. When they reached the top, Hannah found she was standing atop Jerusalem’s enormous stone wall.

  “This path follows the wall around the entire city,” said Henri. “We can walk the whole thing and see all of Jerusalem from above. Whenever I’m gone for a time, I like to walk the outer wall. It gives me perspective. There’s no view like it in all of Jerusalem.”

  They strolled together, the three of them. To the left, beyond the wall itself, they could see the hillsides surrounding the Old City and the olive groves in the v
alley. They paused for a moment to enjoy the view.

  Henri put his arm around Hannah. “It is so good to see you, my dear. And to know you’ve made a true friend,” he said. “Clooney, would you take a photo of my granddaughter

  and I?”

  “Let’s do all three of us together,” said Hannah. She took out her phone and held it out before her. Hannah and Clooney stood side-by-side, Henri just behind, with a hand on each of their shoulders. Just before clicking the shutter, Hannah turned to Clooney and kissed him on the cheek.

  “There,” she said. “You kept your word, and now I have kept mine.”

  They looked at the picture on her phone. Clooney’s look of surprise was perfectly captured at the very moment of Hannah’ kiss.

  Clooney stood stunned, touching his cheek. “My very first kiss,” he said. “And I even have proof! Hannah, you must send me that photo.

  She smiled. “I can do better than that.”

  Hannah began pressing buttons on her phone. “What are you doing now?” asked Henri.

  “Updating my wallpaper.”

  Henri beamed. “No longer worried you might forget your father?” he asked.

  Hannah shook her head. “No. I am not.”

  “Excellent,” said Henri. “Onward and forward then. Next topic of discussion: I have a new expedition in mind. I could certainly use two assistants.”

  “I’m in!” said Clooney.

  “A new expedition? Already?” asked Hannah. “But you just lost your life’s work. How can you already have another expedition in mind?”

  Henri chuckled. “Hannah, my dear! What made you think Julien Dubuisson stopped hunting for treasures after finding Solomon’s ring?”

  “You mean… Julien found more?”

  Henri winked. “Lots more! I have his second journal to prove it.”

  “His second journal!” said Clooney.

  “Of course! Though we may have to find you a passport, young man. Julien journeyed far and wide, and we will have some rough travelling ahead.”

  “Fine by me,” said Clooney. “Where are we off to?”

  “Cambodia,” said Henri. “And you won’t believe what we’re searching for…”

  end

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks to Eoin Murray, fellow author and expert on Middle East politics. Your counsel was indispensable. Thanks also to Natasha Deen for your early reading and keen insight—the story is better because of you. Gregg Silver, Bali Panesar, Christiane Panesar, I’ll never forget our time together, wandering the labyrinthine lanes of Jerusalem, getting lost, finding wonders—all of which inspired the momentum of this story.

  Leala Enfield, you have my heart.

  I would also like to acknowledge the superior quality of dark roast coffee over light roast, no matter the trend, for it too has a role in every word I write.

  Last of all, I must thank all the folks at Great Plains Publications Ltd for your faith and support. Gregg Shilliday, Catharina de Bakker, Mel Marginet, Irene Bindi, you have my gratitude.

 

 

 


‹ Prev