[Betrayed 01.0] 30 Pieces of Silver

by Carolyn McCray

* * *

  Lochum watched as Rebecca typed away, even as the helicopter banked hard to the right. She was the poster child for obsessive-compulsive disorder. Once trained upon a task, neither matters of heaven or earth could shake her. But that’s exactly what his newly self-appointed task had become.

  His momentary shock at Bunny’s tragic end had transformed into a razor-sharp focus. The girl was gone, beyond his help. But he stood at the epicenter of a miracle being born. Larger than life events were unfolding, and he had to have his wits about him. Bunny would be grieved, but only after he brought Christ back to the world.

  Studying his former student, Lochum knew her ruse. As much as Dr. Monroe tried to pretend her work ethic was born of professionalism, Lochum knew that computer of hers was nothing more than a pacifier. By indulging in this scientific retreat, he knew her weakness.

  Just as he had known years ago, long before laptops became her pacifier, books had been her solace. Any life upset would send her scurrying to the library. The deeper her nose into a volume, the more vulnerable she was. In such a time, when her roommate had slept with Rebecca’s boyfriend, Lochum had comforted his grad student right into his own bed.

  Given her determined typing, the professor felt certain he could bend her to his will once again, but on this occasion, he had an obstacle. The professor looked toward Brandt. The two had forged a tentative bond. It was palpable. He had sensed the attachment the first moment they had stepped into his laboratory, and it had been his instinct to truncate it.

  Unfortunately, the soldier was no spineless academic to be so easily repelled. Brandt had nerve and a weapon and did not seem hesitant to use either to protect ‘Becca.

  The sergeant frantically worked on a scheme that reeked of an amateur while Rebecca desperately tried to type away her anxiety. The two were ripe for manipulation. Once done with his gambit, neither would know what had struck.

  * * *

  Rebecca was well on her way to statistically proving that the silver coins from under the Eiffel Tower were indeed connected to the one they had found in Bethlehem, when her old professor sat down next to her.

  “I do not trust these men,” he said, sounding recovered.

  She was so not in the mood for his crap. “They just saved your life. Try a little gratitude.”

  The older man closed her laptop. “No matter my misgivings, do you not find it a tad convenient that you have been attacked twice? Twice when the location was known only by this man and his commanders?”

  Gulping, Rebecca opened her laptop again. Did Lochum really think that she hadn’t considered the course of events? But to suggest Brandt was a pawn of their attackers? Never.

  Lochum pressed on. “How do we know that we are not walking into another trap? He means to take us to London. As if this conspiracy could not cross the Channel.”

  Rebecca’s mouth was on autopilot. “Whatever happens, Brandt can handle it.”

  Lochum turned her chin toward him as he had done so many times before. It used to make her feel special, but now it just annoyed her that he thought she could be manipulated like a lovesick student.

  “Tell that to Bunny,” he said.

  Lochum had miscalculated whatever pained response he thought he was going to evoke. “This is your patented ‘use a recent painful experience to engender rapport’ technique, isn’t it?”

  “How dare you,” he hissed, “…speak to me in such a tone? For the last ten years I have led a life of misery. While you were off gallivanting round the world gathering data for your damned radiation theory, publishing year after year about this ‘smart gene,’ then—”

  Now she was equally pissed. “Where I got bitch-slapped by every editor. They took pot-shots at my theories, my conclusions, my—”

  “That’s exactly my point! You became the cause célèbre!” As the soldiers looked over, Lochum lowered his voice. “The spotlight turned upon the lone woman striving for scientific proof of mankind’s genius while I wilted in the shadows. No lecturing. No research. No keynote—”

  “Get over yourself!” Rebecca barked. The professor’s self-indulgence became unbearable. “Just get to the point. What do you want from me?”

  Sucking in a breath, Lochum searched her face, but she was done. Done with his self-aggrandizing. Done with his exploitation. He must have sensed her mood, for he dropped the holier-than-thou tone.

  “I digress,” he said as he ever so carefully pulled the femur out from inside his jacket. “Back at the laboratory, we were interrupted before I could elaborate upon my studies.”

  Rebecca went back to her typing. “Look, we’re all fried, Lochum.” Still covered in Bunny’s blood, she overrode his objections. “Once we’re safe, I promise I will give your findings my full attention.”

  Lochum grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look at him, his eyes wild with passion. He shoved the bone in front of her, pointing to several lines scratched above the femoral trochanter. “The scripture speaks of a place where bones were interred. Where James was laid to rest.”

  “James? The James? As in Jesus’ brother?” Despite her fatigue, she looked at the relic. Could it really hold such a potent clue? Curiosity got the better of her. “Does it give a location?”

  “Pest.”

  Great, this was going to be another one of her former professor’s “Where’s Waldo? – the Antiquity version.” But even annoyance couldn’t stop her from taking the bait. “Is that a code or an anagram?”

  “My dear, your ancient history really is quite in disrepair.” Before she could argue, Lochum continued. “In the distant past there were two cities: Buda and Pest.”

  Without conscious thought, Rebecca finished his statement. “As the two grew they merged. The region became known as Budapest, eventually becoming Hungary’s capital.” Her mind churned through everything she knew of the area. Speaking her process out loud, “It was visited by proto-Christian evangelicals in the immediate post-crucifixion period.”

  Lochum had his cat-that-ate-the-canary look. “AD 87 to be exact, and it has the largest network of interconnecting caves. Many of which have been sealed off for centuries.”

  Reality edged out Lochum’s swirling mythical excitement. Rebecca shook her head. “But you’ve surveyed there. Three times with me, and how many times on your own before that? Legend is thick with this rumor.”

  “But now we know with certainty it is there. Perhaps deeper under the Castle region. I always said we should have blasted through that rock face.”

  As Lochum blabbered on about how not finding James was somehow her fault, Rebecca stared at the bone. Under the light of her laptop screen, she could barely make out the writing.

  Pest. Not Buda, but Pest.

  “We excavated in the area of the Christian churches and crypts.”

  “Obviously not deep enough,” Lochum said with disdain.

  Rebecca smiled. For all his brilliance, he could be so very blinded by his own press. “We’ve never looked under the Jewish sector.”

  “Why would we, when—” Lochum abruptly stopped mid-sentence, then laughed. “My dear, there is a reason I need you. Pest! Of course. No one has searched in that half of the city. All eyes have been set on the east.”

  No matter the length of time that had passed or whatever maturity she had gained, it still felt pretty damn good to have impressed Lochum. But there was someone else she wanted to share the discovery with. “We’ve got to tell Brandt.”

  “Shh!” he said as he pulled her back down to the seat. “Listen to you! Running to your knight in shining armor.”

  Bristling, Rebecca shot back, “Adoration has nothing to do with it.” Okay, maybe it did a little, but the man who thought he knew her soul inside and out didn’t need to find that out. “We’ve been attacked, twice. We need his protection.”

  The professor’s voice dropped low and threatening. “So far he has only boded doom.” He overrode her retort. “Hear me out, ‘Becca. Give me sixty seconds to convince you. After tha
t, you may make up your mind.”

  To enforce his point, he released her wrist and sat quietly. Damn it. When he was in full asshole mode, Rebecca could fight against him, but this newfound sincerity was nearly impossible to resist. “Sixty seconds. Not a single one more.”

  He nodded, but given the time constraint, his words came out far more measured than usual. “Only you and I know this information. No one else. This may be our only opportunity to explore this unblemished lead. Think of it, ‘Becca. We can blend in. We know their culture far better than these…” A hard look from her stopped Lochum’s tirade against the soldiers. The professor took a breath before finishing. “Think of it. Exploring pristine sites unhindered by friend or foe.”

  Rebecca’s chuckle obviously surprised him. He had just wasted forty-five seconds of his minute. “That’s you, Lochum. You who wants the glory of the find.”

  “Glory has nothing to do with it,” he said with a tinge of sadness. “Look at what our adversaries have done to bury the truth. They destroyed the Damascus Papyrus. They tried to kill me. They blew up the Eiffel ossuary, then tried to kill you. If they find Christ’s tomb first, there will be nothing left but dust and ash.” He lowered his tone as he leaned over.

  “I’m not trying to collect silver pieces for my ego, ‘Becca. I’m trying to uncover the greatest truth man has ever sought. It is at our fingertips. We must extend our reach. Now.”

  She liked it better when he was obscenely arrogant. This reasonable explanation was hard to counter. Luckily, a shout saved her. “Monroe!”

  Before sliding from her side, Lochum pressed on. “But we must find a way to extract ourselves from our woefully misguided escort. No matter their intent, they will only lead the enemy to our gates.”

  Bunny’s sticky blood underscored his point. Two ambushes out of two destinations. Would a third be any different? And no matter how much she dogged Lochum about his professional obsession, Rebecca had to admit that she too felt a tug toward Budapest. She could imagine drilling a tiny core out from James’ bone, then testing his DNA for the “smart gene.” Rebecca could even picture what the computer screen would look like when her life’s work was validated. Those journal editors could kiss her ass.

  Forget the professor and his ambitions. Could she give up this chance?

  Brandt stepped in front of her. “Looks like the cat gave Lochum back his tongue.”

  “He’s just worried about Bunny.”

  Rebecca felt her back stiffen. She had just lied. Why had she just lied to a man who had shown nothing but her best interests at heart?

  Brandt’s eyes narrowed as if he were wondering the same thing. “If you don’t want to share, just say so.”

  She knew she should tell the sergeant everything that had transpired between herself and Lochum, but for some reason the truth just wouldn’t come. Instead Rebecca lied again, only this time she actually put the energy into making it sound believable.

  “Sorry, I was just trying to make him seem a little more human. Old habits and all.” She shrugged. “He’s back onto the bones again.”

  Brandt nodded, but he didn’t look truly convinced. If she told the truth, any hope of testing the brother of Christ for her gene would evaporate.

  For all her resistance against Lochum’s manipulation, Rebecca had to concede that the professor was a master strategist. He thought like Caesar or Alexander. Somehow, the professor could gaze through the expanse of time and retrace those great men’s steps.

  Logic could only conclude then that if they had, in actuality, caught scent of Christ’s path, Lochum was absolutely correct that they could not risk anyone following them.

  Rebecca tried to convince herself that her lies to the soldier weren’t her fault. That she had just fallen prey to the professor’s manipulations again as she had a decade ago, but she knew better. Her own ambition to prove that science ruled man’s fate rather than God is what drove Rebecca to deflect Brandt’s suspicion. “So what’s this grand scheme of yours that’s going to get us past security and into the airport?”

  Doubt seemed to melt from the sergeant’s face as he pulled a red cooler out from a storage bin. Her eyes dilated as she read the label.

  Avertissement! Organe de transplant humain.

  The translation came out in a single, disbelieving breath. “Warning. Human Transplant Organ.” She turned to Brandt, aghast. “We’re going to pretend to deliver a nonexistent liver?”

  “If it gets us inside the terminal in record time, sure.”

  “So we’re going to London?”

  Brandt grabbed some clothes from the bin. “Yeah. Here, put these on.” He handed her a set of scrubs and a white lab coat. “Lochum have a problem with England?”

  How expertly the sergeant had moved the conversation back to these uncomfortable waters. Rebecca turned away as she changed clothes. Not so much out of modesty, but she didn’t want Brandt to see her face as she weaved between truth and lie again.

  “But weren’t those the plans before the ambush?” she asked, hoping she sounded nervous but not nervous enough to be caught in a lie.

  “We have a narrow window to escape this continent. The more time we delay, the more likely they’ll pick up our trail again.”

  His words were so sincere that Rebecca believed his intent wholeheartedly. As she turned back to Brandt, she realized that Lochum’s petty attempt to seed doubt had failed miserably. Looking into the sergeant’s smoky gray eyes, she knew he would never betray her. She knew that she could tell him everything about Pest and James, and never worry that he would betray her.

  If anything, Rebecca realized she had the opposite problem. Brandt was too reliable. The sergeant would never allow her to be endangered. He would never allow them to travel to Hungary. Every line on his face was creased with concern for her welfare. He would never let her stay on the continent.

  Brandt handed her a set of IDs. “Here are your and Lochum’s cover documents.”

  As the passports were laid into her palm, Rebecca knew exactly what she had to do.

  CHAPTER 10

  Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris

  Brandt’s fake organ donor scam worked even better than he had hoped. In no small part, it was due to Lochum’s presence. The older man’s haughty, impatient air did the trick. They were greeted by the airport personnel as celebrities, whisked past security, and deposited at terminal one in record time.

  They were actually a little early for their flight. Early enough to snag seats that looked out over the runway. He glanced at Monroe, but she was in a quick conversation with Lochum. The two had become quite chummy. It was obvious that the professor was no fan of their exit strategy, but Brandt had thought the doctor would be more realistic.

  Not that Rebecca’s words hadn’t echoed his own concerns. He was untrusting of the secrecy of their plans, but so far their enemy had not attacked openly in public. Brandt had dealt with these shadowy organizations before. They worked best in isolated hangars or deserted laboratories. To attack at the De Gaulle Airport? He didn’t think they had the balls.

  Once they were in England, they would not be meeting the official liaison.Instead, they’d be met by his own personal MI-6 contact. From there they would vanish into the hubbub of early-morning London. Brandt believed in this plan with all his heart, yet he still found himself glancing around at the passing travelers, assessing each and every one as a potential threat.

  A boarding call squawked overhead. To Hungary or someplace. Across the circular terminal, people started boarding the outgoing flight. He glanced at his watch. They should start their own loading soon.

  Rising, Brandt glanced over to the doctor. Monroe should have been right there. Spinning on his heel, Brandt searched for her. Rebecca wasn’t far, but she was walking across the terminal toward the departing flight.

  “Monroe!”

  In three short steps he caught up with her. “That’s not our flight.”

  The doctor gave him a sad smile as her
laptop’s printer spit out two new boarding passes. This was no misunderstanding.

  “Good-bye, Brandt.”

  He didn’t bother to hide the anger in his voice. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The professor tried to intervene. “There are more things in heaven and on earth than your—”

  Brandt jerked his head in Lochum’s direction. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

  The older man mumbled something, then moved toward the gate, leaving Rebecca and Brandt to stand amongst a sea of travelers.

  He expected this type of crap from Lochum, but the doctor seemed more levelheaded, rational. Then again, the first time Brandt had seen Rebecca, she was tied to a stake with a twelve-foot-long anaconda squeezing the life out of her just so she could get some blood samples. On second thought, maybe he should have expected this crap.

  He tried to rein in his anger. “Monroe, if this is about London…”

  “Only in part.” She suddenly seemed tired. Like the last twenty-four hours had just caught up with her in a single swift moment.

  “Damn it, I don’t even trust my superiors with our safety, but I would think you would trust me.”

  That sad smile again. “My trust is unshaken, Brandt.” She paused as though weighing how much to tell him.

  “Is this about your conspiring on the chopper?” the sergeant asked.

  Monroe was a lot of things, but a good liar wasn’t one of them. Back on the helicopter, Brandt had let her false words go, assuming the professor and she were hashing out something personal. Had he known they were plotting to ditch him, Brandt would have pressed her until he had the truth.

  The doctor sighed, not bothering to defend her earlier lies. “Lochum has found a lead. A real lead. A time-sensitive lead in Budapest.”

  Brandt’s eyes darted to the older man. Svengurd and Lopez had moved to flanking positions. Even though he couldn’t see Davidson, the private had retreated to the entrance to the terminal—the optimal location to survey all of them. Perfect military precision, only there were no military options this time. They couldn’t tackle the professor, nor drag Monroe onto the London plane.