[Betrayed 01.0] 30 Pieces of Silver

by Carolyn McCray

  “He who dipped his bread before me will seek the Temple guards and bring them to my threshold.”

  Everyone searched about, trying to divine whom Jesus meant, when Judas looked to Magdalene, whose eyes had watered over. It was then that Judas felt the crumbs upon his fingers.

  He had been the last to dip… upon Magdalene’s insistence.

  As the others erupted into shouts, Judas rushed from the room, stumbling down the steps and out onto the dim street. Judas gripped the railing, fearful he might fall to his knees if he let go. He wished to run far and away, but his leg failed him. It would go no farther.

  Why had Jesus and Magdalene conspired to make it seem Judas was the betrayer? He could not, would not, offer his friend to the Romans. Jesus might be prophesied to die, but never with Judas’ assistance.

  “Do not be angry with me,” a voice called from the doorframe.

  “I won’t betray you.”

  As Jesus stepped out into the waning light, he wore a sad smile. “But you must. They would believe no other capable of such a feat.”

  Judas stood in stunned silence. This manipulation had stretched back further than he had realized. During the long months of their ministry, Judas had often wondered why Jesus had done little to challenge the Twelve’s attitude about him. He had thought it a lesson to teach Judas to accept the world as it was, but he realized Jesus had intentionally kept him on the margin. With everyone’s already sour opinion of him, how easy it would be for them to believe he would turn his friend over to the cursed Romans?

  “I will not fulfill John’s word,” Judas spoke passionately.

  Jesus shook his head. “The Baptist did not know the all. You must betray me, Judas, so that I might live.”

  Confused, Judas shook his head. “They mean to crucify you.”

  “And he means to survive it,” Magdalene said from behind them. “If we perform this properly, the potions he used upon me might allow him to survive so that he might rise again.”

  Judas looked at his friend, who neither argued with nor confirmed the woman’s words. “That is blasphemy.”

  But Magdalene’s head shook violently. “Is it? Just as you helped arrange the ass and the palm fronds for his entrance into Jerusalem, we are simply fulfilling God’s plan.”

  “But are we not to trust in Him? Trust that he will raise you from the dead.”

  Jesus found his voice. “And what if we have misinterpreted scripture? What if He does not? What if He expects us to use our minds as well as our hearts? Can we risk all that we have accomplished to fall away?”

  “Then Magdalene can assist you,” Judas spat, his heart in a tug-of-war between anger and hope.

  “Would that he would let me,” the younger Mary snapped back.

  Jesus put an arm around Judas’ shoulder. “When this plan was first conceived, I thought of no other that I would trust with this most important task. If there is any chance at all, the timing must be precise. You must leave now, Judas. I must be arrested before the moon reaches its zenith.”

  Quaking under his friend’s touch, Judas shook his head. “Andrew or Thomas—”

  “No other knows, Judas. They cannot. They must believe so that all others believe.”

  Shouts came from the room above them. The Twelve were in great fervor. Surely damning him.

  “We must return,” Magdalene said, disappearing back into the house.

  “Do you not wish to sit upon a bank with me again, my friend?”

  “Always,” Judas choked out.

  Jesus cupped Judas’ cheeks with both his hands. “This is the only way. Please, go to the temple. Tell them where we reside. I beg you.”

  Then the Savior was gone as well, leaving Judas alone with his pain. To turn Jesus over to the priests would be a betrayal of the worst, yet not assisting with his arrest could jeopardize his friend’s life.

  But in the end, his decision was made for him. Just as Mary had said, his love of her son was both a gift and a curse. For no matter the request, Judas could not deny Jesus.

  Despite his leg’s pain, Judas began the long trek to the temple. Even though Jesus had set him upon this course, Judas could not help but feel that with every step he was fulfilling John’s harsh words.

  CHAPTER 33

  Rome, Italy

  Rebecca sat in their suite’s overstuffed couch, yet still she couldn’t get comfortable. How could she when her guilt sat right next to her? The large seat seemed far too small. The suite was four-star, yet felt cramped and dingy to her. Her eyes stung from crying and her feet ached from walking hours and hours out of the false crypt.

  It turned out that the path Lochum used to find the burial chamber was connected to a tangle of Christian catacombs. For the umpteenth time, she kicked herself for not thinking of it. She had been so focused on the Pope’s Palace that she had neglected the more ancient, deeper, origin of the Vatican. Even before Romulus and Remus, the hill had been considered a sacred burial site. Hell, the early Christians had interred Peter under there.

  When they exited the tunnel system under the Basilica of St. Clemente, Rebecca had burst into tears. Brandt had to nearly carry her out of there. If only she had done what Lochum had taught her and looked back through time. If only she had been a better student, her professor might be alive. They could have intercepted Tok. Freed Lochum before it was too late. Instead, he had died in her arms.

  And why hadn’t she warned Brandt before he rushed into that room that based on all the other chambers, there could be another exit? Why hadn’t she gone in with him? Why hadn’t she done something, anything to prevent Lochum’s death?

  Laughter carried from the other side of the room. Brandt and Davidson sat at their suite’s small desk while Lopez lounged in the recliner, playing a video game as they discussed how they were getting back to the States, but Rebecca couldn’t join in any of their cheer. She might finally be safe, but she felt none the better for it.

  All the death and destruction had been for nothing. The tribesmen. Svengurd. The planeload of passengers. Even Lochum. Dead and for what? An empty chamber. A whole, big, fat wad of nothing.

  Unaware of her foul mood, Brandt asked, “Did you hear me?”

  “No, sorry.”

  The sergeant beamed. “We’ll pick up our cover documents at the Embassy tomorrow, then head out on the ten o’clock non-stop to DC.”

  “Great,” she said with as much enthusiasm she could muster. “If it’s any difference to you, I’m going to my room to get some rest.”

  The worry on Brandt’s face was clear. “Yeah, of course. We’ll try to keep it down.”

  “Wait!” Davidson said as he dug through a pile of supplies he had brought in from his latest gear-gathering trip. “I got this for you.”

  The private held out a shiny new laptop, but she was slow to reach for it. Not so long ago, Rebecca felt like an amputee without a computer, but now the device was just a reminder of everything she was trying to forget.

  Davidson’s voice rang with disappointment. “I know it doesn’t have all your data or programs on it, but I thought you could hook up to your server and start back to work finding that ‘good’ radiation.”

  He might have misread her mood, but it truly was a sweet gesture. “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll give it a workout first thing in the morning.”

  The private seemed placated and went back to sorting their gear as she crossed to the bedroom when she heard a scream. Near panic, Rebecca flattened herself against the wall, then realized it was just a sound from the video game Lopez was playing on the television.

  “Sorry. I’ll mute it,” the corporal said, scrambling for the remote.

  She hated being that chick who everyone had to walk on eggshells around, but Rebecca just couldn’t shake the mood that had descended after laying Lochum to rest. Rebecca just wanted to wipe her memory and start a new life. One without bullets and death.

  A few months ago, the Brazilian Department of the Interior had offered her a l
ucrative job validating natives’ ancestral claims to lands under their country’s new Heritage Act. The pay was insane, nearly quadruple her usual salary, but the work was boring. She would basically be supervising blood draws and comparing DNA profiles to be sure the natives applying for free land were truly one hundred percent indigenous. A monkey, not even one that well trained, could do the job.

  Like she said, boring.

  Rebecca had turned down the offer before they could even explain the medical and dental benefits. Now, however, her first call when she got home was going to be to the Brazilian government.

  At this point, boring wasn’t just okay—it was downright great.

  Boring was downright perfect.

  * * *

  “What are we going to do about that Fazil guy?” Lopez asked as he ducked and dodged incoming fire from a video enemy.

  Brandt leaned back, stretching his spine. They had been working on their mission ops for the past half hour. Jotting down notes to be coalesced into an after-action report once they got home. It was bad enough that they’d lived through the last seventy-two hours. Now they had to relive it on paper.

  “By treaty, we’re supposed to report him to Interpol, but I don’t know,” Davidson said. “It’s pretty clear he was opposed to al-Qaida. He might be an important asset in the area.”

  Bending his neck forward, he asked his aching muscles to loosen just a little. “We’ll let someone higher up the food chain decide that one.”

  Putting his pen down, the sergeant looked at the bottom of Rebecca’s bedroom door. Dark. He worried about her, but duty was duty.

  Davidson tapped his pen on the desk. “Then the only thing left to cover is the exchange of boats.”

  Brandt let out a bone-weary sigh. Svengurd. They had tap danced around his death. All of them silently agreeing to tackle that firefight last.

  “Look,” Brandt said trying to prepare them all for what was to come. “When we get home there will be an inquisition, and psych evals.”

  “Including you, right?” the private asked.

  “Everyone. But my point is that I don’t want you pulling any punches. I want you to relate exactly what you saw. Don’t worry about me or the fallout. Just tell the truth.”

  Lopez played even more frenzied. “Svengurd was on point, and after so many ambushes you had every right to be concerned.”

  “You didn’t pull the trigger, Sarge,” Davidson added.

  Brandt knew his men meant well, but they only echoed Rebecca’s hollow words. A man died on his watch. He wouldn’t shake this guilt soon or easily.

  Before they offered any more platitudes, Brandt tossed his pad of paper onto the table. “You know what? By the book, we are all on suspension pending the inquiry. Why don’t we start acting like it?”

  “Really?” Davidson asked. “We can order pizza and a Pay-Per-View fight?”

  His men were easily amused. “Go for it.”

  As the private dove for the phone and called room service, Brandt looked to the darkened doorway. Rising, he crossed to the bedroom. “I’m going to check on Rebecca.”

  “Sarge!” Lopez called.

  Brandt turned around just in time to catch a condom the corporal tossed at him. “Very funny,” he said as he threw the prophylactic back hard enough that Lopez had to swat it away before it hit his face.

  “Hey!” the corporal squeaked. “I’m just saying, I don’t think you want to make any Monroe babies, that’s all.”

  Ignoring his men’s laughter, Brandt cracked the door open. “Rebecca?”

  The bedroom was a multitude of shadows. Closing the door behind him, Brandt noticed that Lopez had taken the television off mute as a boxing match blared from the other room.

  Standing perfectly still, the sergeant let his eyes adjust to the darkness, finally being able to make out silhouettes. He found Rebecca sitting in a chair next to the window. Her arms encircled her legs, forehead resting on her knees. She must have heard him since she looked up. It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn’t plainly see the pain in her eyes or the tears streaking down her face.

  “Oh, Rebecca,” he said as he knelt by the chair. “Why the hell didn’t you call for me?”

  “And what would you have done?”

  He pulled her into his embrace. “This.”

  * * *

  Rebecca sobbed in Brandt’s arms until she couldn’t sob anymore. The shoulder of his shirt was soaked through, but he didn’t move, he just held her. Sniffling, she pulled away so they were face to face.

  “It’s just too much,” she choked up again unable to finish her thought.

  “I know. I think Lopez is trying to play his way out of it, and Davidson is eating away his grief.”

  She searched his eyes. “What’s going to happen when we get home?”

  “First, we’ll all be separated, then debriefed individually…”

  Rebecca let him go on about the various governmental procedures they would endure, but that wasn’t what she had meant. She felt tapped out on pain and suffering.

  The last three days would haunt her forever. How could she have come so close to Jesus and the secrets his genome held, only to end up empty-handed? Worse than empty-handed. She had lost Lochum and with him a part of herself. She had made a vow to a dying man that she would never be able to fulfill. How did you forget such an obligation?

  Right now, she needed something, anything, to cling to. A single positive thing to come out of all this horror.

  Caressing the side of his face, feeling the stubble thick on his cheek, she interrupted him, “No, I meant between us.”

  “Oh,” Brandt said, seeming more than a little embarrassed, then a warm smile spread across his face. “I was thinking it would go like this.”

  He leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a hungry kiss. There was none of the confusion, awkwardness, or hesitation from Budapest. Her lips parted to let his tongue find her own. Breath coming in a rush, Brandt wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up against him.

  By the bulge against her waist, Rebecca was not going to be disappointed. Yet, something didn’t feel right. Her pulse drove a primordial urge to celebrate life, to indulge, but Rebecca also knew she couldn’t handle any more hurt, so she pulled away just far enough to separate their lips.

  “Wait,” Rebecca said breathlessly, “I’m pretty… I don’t think my heart could take…”

  Brandt kissed her again, but this time softly, tenderly. “I’m not the one-night stand kind of guy.”

  “That would be Lopez?” she asked playfully.

  “Oh, please. He’s the (I’ll-be-out-of-here-in-under-a-half-an-hour) kind of guy.” They both chuckled as Brandt tucked a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. Whatever doubt she might have had melted with their laughter as he continued, “I’m thinking that we’ll have to take a break just so we can make our flight tomorrow.”

  When her knight in shining armor leaned in to kiss her this time, Rebecca held nothing back. All thoughts of Lochum, Christ, and the “God” gene fluttered from her mind as the roar of passion scattered every thought.

  Arching her body into his chest, she pulled his white collar off, flinging it across the room. Urgently her hands found his shirt, nearly tearing the buttons apart. Tugging the garment off, she ran her hands down his bare chest.

  Muscles rippling, he picked her up. With his amazing upper body strength, he carried her over to the bed and laid her down. But instead of just climbing on like most men would, he hovered over her, admiring her body, his right hand coursing down her side, then continuing down to her panties, tugging them off as his left hand unhooked her bra.

  Lying naked beneath him, she should have felt exposed or vulnerable, but all Rebecca felt was ready.

  * * *

  Brandt kissed down her neck, nibbling just to hear her moan. One hand was beneath her hips, locking them together. Rebecca was anything but idle, though. Her hands had expertly unhooked his belt and with an urgency t
hat surprised him, Rebecca pulled his pants off until there were no clothes between them.

  Skin to skin, their bodies entwined.

  Her hardened nipples against his bare chest. Her loins against his own. Rebecca snaked her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, asking, no, demanding, him to fulfill her.

  But he didn’t want their first time to be like this. Sweaty and rushed.

  “Are you sure you are ready?” he asked into her ear.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes unfocused and misty. “Yes.”

  Shifting his weight, his dog tags fell between them, swaying, as they were only moments from consummating what had begun in the Ecuadorian rain forest when she cried out. “Oh, my God!”

  Confused, Brandt hesitated. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “No, I know where he is…” Rebecca’s gaze suddenly cleared, her voice serious. “I know where Christ is buried.”

  * * *

  Tok’s eyes narrowed as he watched the couple through the night scope. Her erect nipples dark against her fair breasts. He had known Dr. Monroe worked best under extreme adrenaline drive, but obviously there was more than one way to induce that state. She pushed the sergeant away, scrambling to grab her new laptop.

  “She knows,” he said to Petir, who worked on his own computer, uploading the photos they had taken of the false burial site.

  His mentor stopped typing. “Where?”

  Tok was trying to discern such knowledge, but Brandt had walked over, and his broad back blocked his view. The sergeant’s obvious excitement waning rapidly.

  He had feared he would be subjected to their mating ritual all evening, but the doctor’s revelation had saved him in more ways than just this. Tok had known Rebecca would divine their savior’s resting place.

  After the attack on their base, Tok knew that he had been left with the weaker of the pair. Lochum had arrogance and the bluster to match it, but his mind was slow to grasp subtlety. The professor had over two hours in that chamber, yet had advanced their knowledge no further. Even when they had imparted to Lochum the linchpin of the puzzle, their most tightly held secret, had told him the all, the professor made no progress.