“Yes, one of the greatest in Scripture. He remained faithful to God during the reign of the blasphemous King Manasseh and later foretold the fall of Israel to Babylon. Jeremiah lived to see it happen. It’s possible that this was written on the very eve of the fall of Jerusalem, by someone close to the Jeremiah. Perhaps his own scribe, Baruch. Whomever it was, Jeremiah trusted them enough to send them in search of the Ark in an attempt to redeem Israel from their judgement.”
“To Egypt?”
“Mizraim is the Hebrew word for Egypt, but it also referred to a much larger and less-defined swath of Africa during that time.”
“Including Ethiopia?”
Berhanu smiled. “Perhaps. But if the Ark was brought to Ethiopia, then it almost certainly traveled through Egypt, along the Nile. Which, as you may know, flows from Lake Tana in the Ethiopian highlands.”
Estelle scanned the text again, feeling a shiver of excitement she rarely experienced when it came to history. She was getting caught up in the mystery, the awe of seeing the past unfold into the present. “So this proves it. The Ark was brought to Africa. But -- wait. If the Israelites went looking for it, why would it still be in Ethiopia?”
“I do not know. That text is the end of the story, as far as we know. Perhaps this seeker never found it, or perhaps he became convinced that it was not safe to bring the Ark back to Jerusalem while it remained in the control of the Babylonians. That was your father’s thinking, and I could find no reason to disagree. We both agreed on the importance of the project: to safeguard one of the most important artifacts in human history. The promise of considerable resources from Radical Dynamics did not hurt either. Using all this I was able to make progress with Parliament, working the proposal back up through the Committee. Not much more quickly than what Martin had managed to begin with, but it was at least coming from an Ethiopian. That granted us an audience, which led to the drafting of a preliminary contract, and eventually we were able to secure a military escort to Axum. We were given seven days in the city to do our work. It took us six to convince the Kohen to allow us access, to view the Ark.”
Estelle leaned forward, arms on her knees. “What was it like?”
“Mesmerising,” Berhanu said, voice growing reverent. “We were granted only a minute inside the sanctuary, and could not step foot into the Holy of Holies where the Ark was being kept. But Martin was allowed a photograph.” He opened his desk and pulled out a glossy picture. Estelle took it and studied the shadowy image. It showed something golden and vaguely box-shaped, but that was about all she could make out.
Berhanu must have sensed her skepticism. “Despite appearances, that is the most important picture to have been taken this century.”
“How did you convince the guardian to let you into the sanctuary?” she asked, handing back the photo.
“We explained what we hoped to accomplish, that we wanted to prevent it from being lost to the conflict in Tigray. It took some time, but I believe most of that can be attributed to the Kohen’s innate stubbornness. Privately, he must have seen the wisdom of our endeavor. Axum has not escaped the conflict unscathed. Much of the city has been ravaged. It is a wonder the sanctuary remained standing as long as it has. Or rather, a miracle.”
“So he agreed? To let you recover the Ark?”
“It seemed so, yes.”
“But then, what happened? Why did my father return to Paris without it?”
“The Kohen said he needed time to prepare the Ark to be moved. Sacred purifying rituals to be carried out. It would take three days. Well, as I said, we had been granted only seven in the city, and it was on our last that we were finally allowed an audience. So we had to leave, while the Ark was made ready. Despite the delay your father and I were in high spirits, certain that we were close to accomplishing our goal.” Berhanu sighed, looking suddenly weary. “And then our petition to return north was denied.”
“Why?”
“The conflict has reignited. Fighting was growing fierce once more throughout much of Tigray, and it looks like the terrorists are trying to push south towards Addis. We had no choice but to wait and hope the latest bout of violence would not destroy the Ark before we could return to Axum. But the travel ban was not lifted, and the arrangement with Parliament was all but forgotten. Eventually your father had to return to Paris. We remained hopeful, but…”
Berhanu trailed off, and Estelle didn’t need to ask him to continue. But then he died. She sat back in her chair, reflecting on Berhanu’s story in the silence. It was hard to imagine her father doing all those things, even with the mobility of his exoframe. But then, she’d always underestimated him to an extent.
“So,” the curator said. “That is what happened. And now you are here. To reignite your father’s work?”
Estelle nodded, then hesitated. “Well, sort of. I was sent by Nasim al-Faradi to establish contact with you and learn what had happened.”
Berhanu frowned. “Could they not just review your father’s notes? He was quite meticulous, as you can see.”
“That’s the thing. He seems to have had a change of heart. Just before he died, he erased all of his notes.” She indicated the annotated document. “This is practically all that’s left.”
Berhanu looked aghast. “Why on Earth would he do that?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Estelle admitted. “According to Nasim al-Faradi, my father thought the Ark was in danger. That somebody else had noticed what you two were doing and was trying to get to it.”
“Ah.” Berhanu suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Yes, Martin expressed these concerns near the end, after we left Axum.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“No. I mean, there are the terrorists, of course. If they were to take the Ark from the sanctuary, it could be sold on the black market to fund their operations, or even become a standard to rally more support for their cause. But, if anything, that is an argument for continuing with our original plan, not postponing it. And, in any case, I do not think it was them that Martin feared.”
“Who, then?”
“I cannot say. I am sorry.” Berhanu hesitated. “The change -- it seemed to occur in Martin overnight. One day he was excited by our discovery, communicating daily with Pharos, eager to move the project forward; the next, he was quite literally jumping at shadows.”
Estelle frowned. “I wonder if it was the malaria affecting him. Did he show any other signs of being sick?”
“No. He seemed in perfect health -- or, at least, as perfect as his health ever was. That is why his death came as such a shock to me, when I heard of it.” He grimaced. “I will admit, for a moment I feared his suspicions had been proven to be true.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing, really,” Berhanu said quickly, waving away the comment. “Only that I experienced a brief instance of paranoia at the timing.”
Estelle’s stomach jolted unpleasantly. She leaned forward, staring at him. “Are you saying you thought he’d been murdered? Poisoned or something?”
Berhanu was very clearly regretting his words, his smile pained. “As I said, it was an instance of temporary irrationalism. A quirk of my own grief, I am sure. Tragic though it was, I am confident Martin’s passing was nothing more sinister than an act of nature.”
“Of course.” Estelle sat back, feeling an odd sensation that wasn’t quite relief.
“Regardless, I am most willing to continue with the project, if Pharos still wishes to see it completed. Which, judging by your presence here, I assume is the case?”
“It is, yes.”
“Excellent!” He beamed, watching her eagerly. “So. How are we to proceed?”
“Um. Well, first I was to get back in contact with you. Establish that the Ark does exist and is in Axum --”
“Which we have done just now.”
“Right. So, now I need to report to Pharos -- to update them, so they can begin the next steps of the project. I imagine we’ll need to
reopen communication with Parliament, try to pick up the pieces of the contract my father originally put together.”
Berhanu’s expression fell slightly. “Ah. Yes. Yes, I suppose that is what we must do.”
“I’m open to alternate suggestions,” Estelle said. “You’re the expert here, really.”
“Well, it is just that, as I said, the travel ban is still in effect while military maneuvers are being carried out in the region. Your suggested course of action is a reasonable one, but I am afraid it may take many months before we make any serious headway. By which time the Ark could be destroyed, or worse.”
“Couldn’t you use your connections to speed things along?”
“Arranging for the initial trip stretched those connections to their utmost limit, and that was before the ban.” He leaned back with a sigh. “I admit, I am disappointed. I thought that Pharos, with all the resources of Radical Dynamics, might be able to expedite things.”
Estelle felt a somewhat-irrational need to defend the company. “Well, just let me contact Pharos. We are Radical Dynamics, after all. I’m certain there’s something --”
She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Berhanu frowned, sitting up. “I cleared my schedule for today,” he muttered. All at once Estelle thought he looked rather anxious. “Who is it?” he called in a loud voice.
The voice that answered was deep and firm. “Miss Kingston?”
She met Berhanu’s eyes, and shrugged. “Um. Yes?”
The door opened, and two men strode inside. They could not have been more different if one had been fire and the other ice. The man in the lead was rather small, shorter than Estelle even, with a lean, wiry frame. By contrast, his companion was immense, all broad shoulders and bulging biceps, his long hair pulled into a ponytail through the back of his baseball cap, his face bearded. The confines of Berhanu’s office only increased his sense of mass.
Both men, she saw with a jolt, were wearing holstered pistols.
Berhanu was on his feet, wearing a polite smile. But his eyes were focused on their guns. “And who are you?”
The smaller man spoke, addressing Estelle rather than Berhanu. He had rather intense eyes that made her feel as if she were pinned by a bright spotlight. “Michael Nachson. This is my partner, Dwayne Kazacsky. Sorry for our tardiness, Miss Kingston. We had some trouble on the tarmac.”
“Um.” She glanced at Dwayne Kazacsky, who gave her a friendly smile. It did little to put her at ease. “That’s -- I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Your security detail,” Michael Nachson said. “From Pharos.”
“But I don’t have a security detail.”
“Well, you didn’t, until we arrived…” He trailed off, frowning slightly. “Did Miss al-Faradi not tell you we were coming?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Oh,” Nachson said simply. “Well, she is certainly welcome to her secrets. And, given the circumstances, I suppose there were bound to be mixed signals. She’s got plenty on her plate.”
“So you are with the project?” Berhanu asked, speaking a little more loudly than necessary.
“Yes sir,” Nachson said, turning to face him. “It’s standard protocol for all Pharos expeditions to be given a security detail. I suppose you wouldn’t have known that,” he added to Estelle, “seeing as how you’re a recent hire.”
“Odd,” Berhanu said. “Miss Kingston’s predecessor didn’t have any such escort.”
Kazacsky said, in his deep voice, “Well, Martin Kingston was a special case, from what we understand.”
“Exactly,” Nachson agreed. “Someone of his standing in Pharos is afforded certain privileges. Including the ability to travel with or without a detail. Something I don’t advise, incidentally. But it wasn’t our assignment, so…”
“Is there any sort of identification you can show us?” Estelle asked. Nachson turned to her, and she smiled in what she hoped was a disarming way. “For security purposes. You understand.”
“Sure thing,” he said, flashing a laminated badge with his face and name. It looked official enough, and even had a Pharos watermark. “So, Mr. Abraham. Can we take your presence to mean that the Ark is, in fact, in Ethiopia?”
“It is,” Berhanu said slowly. “But, as I was just telling Miss Kingston, it is currently beyond reach. The conflict in Tigray --”
“That’s where we come in,” Kazacsky said. “Security is a broad job description. We’re really more like your personal fixers.”
“Meaning?” Estelle asked.
“Meaning,” Nachson said, “we’ll get you to Axum.”
“How?” Berhanu asked, sounding both surprised and skeptical.
Nachson tipped him a wink. “Trade secrets, Mr. Abraham. We’re well versed in adapting to unique situations and moving through a broad range of environments. Suffice it to say, travel bans are rarely as impenetrable as they sound.”
“But that -- I mean…” Berhanu sat back down behind his desk. “I’m not certain I’m comfortable with what you’re suggesting, Mr. Nachson.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Nothing illegal. All we’re talking about is securing alternate modes of transportation into the designated area. We’ll handle the details, don’t you worry.”
“Yes, but --”
“Now, Miss Kingston, if you’ll come with us, we’ll secure accomodations for you here in Addis Ababa.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t even thought about where she’d be staying. “Um -- alright.”
“Actually,” Berhanu said, “she is welcome to stay with me --”
“Afraid that’s not possible,” Nachson said quickly. “Miss Kingston’s safety is our top priority. We’ve got a list of pre-vetted lodgings in the area that we are required to stick to. It just makes things more efficient. You understand.”
“You’re welcome to come with,” Kazacsky said.
“Yes, I think I will,” Berhanu said, standing again.
Nachson clapped his hands together. “Great. If we’re all set here, then we should depart at once. We’re on a constrained schedule, as I’m sure you’re aware, Miss Kingston. Now, once we arrive at your lodgings, we’ll need you to remain in your room while we go and arrange transportation to Axum. Makes our job easier, you understand. Feel free to stay with her, Mr. Abraham. In fact, I might insist upon having the two of you in one place. Keeps things simple.”
Nachson and Kazacsky began herding them out of the office, Nachson leading the way while Kazacsky brought up the rear like a massive, silent shadow. Nachson jabbered the entire way, going on about security protocols she would be expected to abide by while in Ethiopia. By the sound of things, Estelle would need to ask for permission for just about everything short of breathing. She wanted to protest the treatment, but Nachson spoke with such authority and had built a momentum that was difficult to push against, so she settled for some internal brooding.
Nasim is probably worried I’ll trip over my own feet and break my neck, she thought grumpily. It was more than a little galling, to be treated like a child on her first day trip out of the nursery. That was probably why Nasim hadn’t mentioned anything about a security detail back in Paris. Easier to just do what she wanted and expect Estelle’s forgiveness later.
It was, she realized with an uncomfortable lurch, likely the same reasoning that had prevented her father from mentioning Pharos at all. Was she really that difficult of a person to work with?
“How long will this take?” Berhanu was asking.
“That all depends on a lot of variables,” Nachson told him. “In a perfect world? We’ll be able to head out tonight.”
Estelle stopped in her tracks, near the Olmec head. “Wait a minute. Head out? To Axum?”
“Correct.”
“But I’m not going to Axum.”
This time Berhanu turned to stare at her, along with Nachson and Kazacsky. “You’re not?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“Well -- I mean, I was told --”
“You are the lea
d on this operation,” Nachson said, “aren’t you?”
“I -- I suppose, but…” She looked between the three men, now feeling a bit desperate. Kazacsky was watching her with an odd expression. “Well, it’s a warzone, isn’t it? And Nasim al-Faradi told me I’d only be going to Addis Ababa. I’m not sure I’m qualified for -- for whatever comes next.”
Berhanu put a hand on her shoulder. “I understand your anxiety --”
“We can discuss this later,” Nachson said brusquely. “Once we’re in a more secure location.”
The black car that had picked her up from the airport was still waiting in the parking lot. Estelle explained that she needed to get her duffel from the trunk, assuming Nachson and Kazacsky would insist on taking their own pre-vetted vehicle.
“No need,” Nachson said. “We’ll all go together. Safer that way.” He opened the door for her, while his massive partner leaned down to talk to the driver, who was staring up at him with his mouth open. “After you, Miss Kingston.”
Fifteen
Jewel of Addis Restaurant
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia
For just shy of three days Kai and Rick had taken it in turns to watch the airport for Estelle Kingston’s arrival. They wore various disguises and traded shifts at irregular intervals so as not to arouse the suspicions of the local security. While one of them hung around arrivals, the other camped out with a pair of binoculars in the hills across from the runways, watching for anything that looked like it might signal the entrance of their competitors.
Despite the head-start that Ibis had given them, the entire operation had so far felt like a seat-of-their-pants affair to Kai. It was a wonder they’d found Estelle Kingston at all, let alone managed to initiate a successful con. None of which prevented Rick from finding something to complain about.
“Radical-Fucking-Dynamics,” he hissed, for what must have been the tenth time since dropping off Estelle Kingston and Berhanu Abraham at the dingy hotel. “Radical-Mother-Fucking-Dynamics! The hell is that all about?”
“No idea.” Kai gave apologetic looks to the other diners, who were regarding Rick’s incessant muttering and gesticulating with growing apprehension. “Calm down, before we get kicked out.”
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