The Dead Sea Codex Page 12

  "Yup."

  "How come you have a gun, anyway?"

  "Ah ... Farid got it for me. For some of our expeditions over various borders."

  Doing what? Lisa wondered, as she put on her own hat. Before this episode was over, she planned to find out a lot more about Greg's activities.

  Greg tossed his floppy dark hair back and put on a hat. “Onward and upward."

  He led the way, moving quickly and surely along the path.

  Lisa followed trying to pace herself and hoping her recent lack of exercise would not result in her disgracing herself and acting like a helpless female.

  They stopped for a water break after half an hour and Greg whipped out a powerful pair of binoculars. He scanned the nearby cliffs, which were pockmarked with likely openings. “There,” he said. “That's the one."

  "Where?"

  "See that clump of vegetation and the small cairn of rocks? Right next to what looks like a double opening?"

  She squinted into the western light. The jagged opening reminded her of the “M” on a cat's forehead. “I think so. That's the Nahal Se'elim?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't see how we're going to get there,” said Lisa, hoping maybe it would be impossible to climb and Greg would have to call in some real climbing experts.

  "We climb up to the ledge above, and then lower ourselves down to the cave."

  Lisa's heart sank as she realized she would be dangling from a rope over a sheer drop. “How do you know it's the right one?"

  "Because I saw two guys—Bedouins, I think—going in and out of there."

  Lisa made a face. “You didn't tell me that part!"

  "We had company, remember? I still don't know what Arieh's role in this is, or how much Ellen told him. Better to be safe..."

  "Right,” said Lisa grimly, shouldering her pack again. If she was going to do something foolhardy like sliding down over a cliff backwards, she wanted to get it over with.

  Greg's mention of Ellen reminded her she had a rather large bone to shove down his throat. The small matter of why he was endangering Ellen by using her as bait for Arieh. Well, that could wait for later, too. She wanted to be able to sit opposite him and observe Greg's face—every facial expression and every attempt at hiding his feelings.

  It was time Gregory Manzur learned that Lisa was no pushover.

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  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ...all creatures exist in and with each other [Gospel of Mary]

  ELLEN LET HERSELF into Arieh's apartment. Her heart thudded against her chest as she pictured their upcoming confrontation. What would he do? Would he be violent? She didn't know why she thought of violence—perhaps her feelings of insecurity and betrayal were working overtime.

  On the way down from Masada, Greg had pulled Ellen aside while Lisa and Arieh went on ahead. “I don't want to scare you,” he said, “but your boyfriend has been acting mighty strangely and Farid and I think he is part of the team trying to suppress the codex."

  Ellen took note of his grim expression. “Are you saying he's dangerous?"

  "Yes. I don't think he will hurt you, as long as you don't ask too many questions, because you are his link with us. And it is my movements he is really interested in."

  Ellen stopped and tightened the laces on her hiking boots. She wanted time to think. “Can't I help?” she asked calmly. “Keep track of him for you?"

  Greg's face reflected his admiration. “Actually, that would be very useful. Keep him busy with touristy things, spend lots of time in public places. Find excuses not to stay in his apartment."

  Ellen shivered as she remembered Greg's warning. Lisa had warned her as well when Ellen had announced her intention to return to Arieh's place instead of the hotel room. Ellen had promised to be careful.

  She unpacked quickly, throwing her sweaty hiking clothes into a pile for washing and stacking her belongings in a tidy heap just inside the bedroom.

  She looked at the rumpled double bed. Arieh was an enthusiastic lover. Not very subtle, but definitely athletic. Ellen would miss that part of the relationship, but she couldn't bear to hang out with someone who lied every time he opened his mouth. Her gut told her that Arieh had just used her, like any other women, to satisfy the needs of his ego and his body. After all, he'd told her he had never dated any woman longer than a month.

  She heard the key turn in the lock.

  When Arieh entered the kitchen, whistling, Ellen was stacking camping dishes in the sink.

  Arieh stopped in mid-whistle. “You're here! I thought you went back to the hotel with Lisa."

  "I came here to pick up some things,” Ellen kept her tone was cool and businesslike.

  "Aren't you staying over?"

  "Lisa wants some help with her paperwork. And a little time with me. You know, girl talk. After all, Lisa and I were planning to take part of this week as vacation."

  Arieh appeared to accept this explanation. He dumped the contents of his knapsack on the kitchen floor, releasing the ripe aroma of old sweat and dead socks. Shirts and underwear tumbled onto the floor. He picked up a T-shirt and sniffed it. Underneath it was a gun.

  Ellen's chest compressed. “Is that your gun?"

  "Sure. An old army gun. You never know who you might run into in the Judean Hills."

  She didn't believe him. Her heart thudding away, Ellen tried another question. “But why would a museum curator need a gun? I mean..."

  Arieh surged to his feet like a cobra rising from its coil. He grabbed her by the upper arms. “You ask too many questions."

  Now that she was cornered, Ellen felt suddenly brave. “No, you do. Ask too many questions, I mean. Why do you keep asking me about Lisa and Greg?"

  "They're your—our—friends. Why shouldn't I?"

  "You seem especially interested in their movements. And the manuscripts they're hunting for.” Ellen shook a little.

  Arieh's face hardened to brown agate. His blue eyes were icy. Ellen felt his hands move up to her shoulders, towards her neck...

  The front door slammed in the adjoining apartment. Through the paper-thin walls, Ellen could hear the occupant moving around.

  The hands on her shoulders loosened and Arieh's face softened. He released Ellen and began picking up his discarded clothing and tossing them into the tiny washing machine next to the refrigerator. “My museum has interest in those manuscripts, too,” he reminded her mildly. “We all want to find the source, the cave or the site that they come from."

  Sweat trickled down Ellen's back. All she could think of was that Arieh had meant to hurt her—maybe kill her—but the unknown neighbor's arrival had stopped him. She supposed that strangling someone who fought back might be noisy enough to cause comment.

  As she moved to the bedroom, she remembered that she and Arieh had never really discussed the manuscripts. But he hadn't seemed surprised when she mentioned them. That could only mean that Greg was right. Arieh was interested in the codex—not for the museum, but for his own sake and that of his accomplices—whoever they were.

  Arieh followed her and flung himself on the bed. “You'll come back tomorrow, won't you?” he asked, his blue eyes watching her every move.

  Ellen tried to sound casual. “Oh, probably—unless Lisa wants me to stay. After all, I am paying for my share of that hotel room."

  She gathered up her bags and keys and headed for the door. Arieh walked out with her to her rental car and helped her stow her knapsack in the trunk.

  "I still have to show you that new nightclub near Hebrew University,” he said as he kissed her goodbye. Just as if he'd never had his hands around her throat.

  "Well, we have a few more days, I'm sure.” Ellen waved as she moved away from the curb.

  She drove as quickly as she dared, her mind whirling with images of Arieh's chameleon face, superimposed with the remembered visage of Stan, her mother's most disastrous boyfriend. Stan, who turned out to be a lawyer from another firm, using his relationshi
p with Ellen's mother to steal legal documents from her briefcase. Now that she thought of it, Stan's face had worn just the same expression as Arieh's—that of a bully who'd just been thwarted and was planning retaliation.

  When she had driven several blocks away from Arieh Golovey's apartment, Ellen pulled over to the curb and turned off the engine. She stared at the windshield, hands shaking in her lap.

  Now what?

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  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  And Cain was very wroth and his countenance fell. [Genesis 4:5]

  THE HAWK WATCHED the American tourist drive away.

  Stupid broad. All women were Eves—not to be trusted.

  Ellen reminded him of Alia, the Palestinian girl he'd dated a couple of years ago. He'd had her totally under his influence when she suddenly deserted him for another man—an Israeli. Hawk snarled as he remembered her treachery.

  He strolled back into his apartment. If Ellen would just stick to sex and sightseeing, he wouldn't have to do anything.

  Now her curiosity was getting dangerous. No doubt the Eagle would tell him to dispose of her. Well this time he wasn't waiting for orders. The device he planned to fix onto Ellen's engine block would take care of everything. Of course to any observer, he'd just been checking the oil on his girlfriend's car.

  The Hawk, alias Arieh Golovey, alias Farras Golubi, double-locked the door of his apartment. He flung himself down on the couch and he whipped out his cell phone.

  The Eagle answered.

  "I have to deal with the American woman,” Arieh reported.

  "Who, the curator?"

  "No, her friend. I—ah—was dating her, but she's asking too many questions."

  "Fool! How many times have I told you, don't bring women into this!"

  "This time, it was necessary,” whined Arieh. “She actually was quite useful in helping me track the other two."

  "You cannot afford dalliance on this job,” snarled his boss. “Get yourself over to the café. We need to plan how to beat the Bedouins to that cave."

  Arieh/Farras/Hawk pictured the triumph of finding the lost manuscripts and then destroying them so the Western world would never see the contents. If he did well, Eagle would promote him, and that would mean more money—enough to entice a new woman to date him. He smiled. “See you in half an hour."

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  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  When Eve was still in Adam, death did not exist.[Gospel of Philip]

  LISA SHRUGGED OFF her pack and exhaled loudly. She could not remember being this beat in years.

  The sun was setting into a fiery nest of rose-orange clouds.

  "We're too late,” said Greg. “We'll have to camp here and go first thing in the morning.

  Lisa heaved a sigh of relief. She had no energy left, and hanging by a rope over a cliff in the dark would be suicidal. Then her relief changed into a wary anticipation as she watched Greg unpack a small tent. It was very small—a backpacking tent, in fact—just big enough for two people to lie close together. Lisa unrolled her sleeping bag quickly. She had forgotten how cold the desert could be at night. The thin bag, one salvaged from an old roommate of Greg's, was barely adequate. She wondered if Greg had chosen it on purpose.

  Tom didn't need to hear all the details. Then she smiled ruefully. She and Greg hadn't done anything yet, and she had no intention of returning to their previous relationships. But what if ... Her mind shied away from finishing that thought. The attraction between them was still strong, glowing like embers just before they burst into flame. But Tom was the future, he was what she really wanted.

  Or at least, that was how Lisa thought in the sober light of day when she'd had enough caffeine to be sensible.

  Lisa's mind returned to dangerous thoughts as she reached into her pack and pulled out a packet of freeze-dried meat that would be their dinner.

  Tom will never know if I do succumb ... but I will know ... and months of guilt and self-disgust would be a poor exchange for a moment's pleasure. Not to mention the damaging emotions that would show their ugly faces if I did crawl into Greg's bag.

  She set up the tiny camp stove as Greg finished pegging down the rain fly. They were both experienced campers, but Lisa had learned most of what she knew seven years ago when she traveled in the north of Israel with Greg. That shared history along with the growing dusk created an illusion of intimacy.

  Lisa gazed over the purple ridges and brooding cliff faces towards the east. Jordan, a stone's throw away. Where were the border guards? How close to the border were she and Greg? She pulled the map out of Greg's side pocket and tried to make sense of it by flashlight.

  Greg stepped closer and leaned over her. “We're here, next to the Nahal Se'elim. See the contour lines?” He pointed to a spot a few miles northeast of Masada. “And the border is just here.” Greg had always been good at guessing what she was thinking. His finger came down on almost the same place.

  "Too close for my tastes,” said Lisa, folding the map up.

  "When do we eat?"

  "Just as soon as I can tear open this packet with my teeth and boil the contents. Let's see what it is.” She squinted at the label. “Beef stew. I think."

  Greg pulled out a slim pewter flask from his rear pocket. “Here. This will make that freeze-dried muck taste better."

  Lisa took a swig and choked. “What the hell is it?"

  "Arak,” he replied.

  "Fire-water!” Suddenly Lisa saw the edge of a piece of plastic sticking out of Greg's shirt pocket. Recognizing the pattern of it, she snatched it out of its hiding place.

  "Whoa!” cried Greg. “What are you doing?"

  Lisa glanced down at the plastic card in her hand. Just as she thought, it had the Hebrew letters for Mossad, a major arm of Israeli Intelligence. And Greg's name and picture on it. “You have some explaining to do.” Anger rose in her throat like lava.

  His brown eyes focused uneasily on her face. “I was going to tell you—tonight."

  "Sure you were. What if I hadn't discovered that ID? And what about Ellen's safety?” The lava boiled over. “She's my best friend, damn it, and you let her go back with that creep, Arieh, even though you think he's involved with Les Agents!"

  Greg swallowed. “Ellen's in no danger, not yet. Not as long as Arieh—or whoever he is—hasn't reached his objective. Which is to get all of the codex in one place and make sure it never sees the light of day again.” He took another swig of Arak for courage.

  "You can't be sure of her safety! From everything I've managed to learn—no help from you—these guys are terrorists."

  "And they kill their pawns—but not until their job is done. Like Abu."

  "And you don't care if innocent people are killed! First Mahmoud Hussein, then Abu Najaf, and for what? For a lousy manuscript..."

  "Now wait a minute,” his face flushed. “You don't think I enjoy this part of my job, do you? And you're an archaeologist. You know what's at stake—nothing less than the history of Christianity!"

  They were both on their feet now, glaring at each other. Next to Lisa the pot of water boiled away on the little backpacking stove. She ignored it. “If Ellen comes to any harm, I'll never forgive you.” Lisa felt a large tear slide down her cheek.

  "She won't, really. I did warn her on the way back from Masada."

  Lisa suddenly remembered when Greg and Ellen had dropped behind her and Arieh on the Snake Path. This time, he was telling the truth. “Thank God,” she sighed, and sat down abruptly. She unclenched her hands and took a deep breath. “Now tell me—what is your real job, and whom are you really working for?"

  Greg seated himself cross-legged and passed her the bottle as a peace offering. “My unit is part of Mossad. I'm in charge of tracking the illegal trade of antiquities across several borders."

  Lisa was beginning to understand. “And you employ several other people..."

  "That's right. Farid el Baz and Ira Levine are two of my m
en...” Briefly, Greg summarized some of the artifact deals and manuscript trades they had been tracking.

  She let out a long breath. “You might have told me before! Did you know I suspected Farid of being part of Les Agents?” She gulped a little firewater and passed it back to Greg.

  "I guessed it,” said Greg ruefully. “But it was safer for you not to know. Now, because of what may happen tomorrow, I want you to know—for your own protection."

  "You think Les Agents will come after us."

  "I'm sure of it. They haven't found the cave yet. They'll follow you and me to see if we lead them to it."

  Lisa looked at the cliffs across the wadi. Nothing was stirring. No light showed. “You mean, they're probably out there already, waiting for us to do their dirty work for them."

  "That's likely, yes. But we've lit no fire nor shown any lights, so I doubt they know exactly where we are."

  She pulled her jacket closed and zipped it against the chill. Greg handed her the Arak again, and Lisa took another swig. “Whew! That stuff is strong. What do you know about Arieh?"

  "He's a Christian, but we don't know what kind of Christian. We suspect he may be from Lebanon, but we have no proof yet. Farid is trying to get his personnel papers from the Israel Museum and to find out something about his family."

  "He did mention a brother...” Lisa stopped suddenly. “That's strange."

  "What is?"

  "Arieh got a phone call at the museum while you were out. He said later it was his brother Moshe, but I could swear I heard him say ‘Mohammad.’”

  "And that's an Arab name, which means..."

  "Arieh is not Jewish—maybe not even Israeli."

  Lisa was silent. A Lebanese Christian? There were so many Christian sects in the Middle East and Africa. Maronites. Copts. Other groups that had split off from the Eastern Orthodox Church. If Arieh came from that background, anything was possible.

  Greg's stomach growled. “Are we going to eat that slop?"

  Lisa grinned. “Sure. I'll boil it and add some pepper. Gourmet freeze-dried muck, coming up."

  * * * *

  THE NIGHT WAS dark and breezy, unlit except for the glow of Greg's cigarette and the dim light cast by a crescent moon.