The Angel of Eden (30 page)

My leg still ached. I reached under the cover and could feel it had been swathed in bandages from the middle of my hip to my calf. The protruding lump at my knee had disappeared. Just as well they'd fixed the dislocation when I was unconscious, sparing me the cutting pain.

“How did I get here? Was I in the hospital?”

“The one who takes his mules on rides for tourists. He found you and remembered how you asked about us. He saw your yellow jacket on the rocks. Hospital not good for you. Police will find out.”

Heavy footsteps echoed on a stair. My guardian angel jumped back as if she'd been stung by a hornet and stood against the wall. A tall figure blocked the doorway.

Alaz.

“You may go, Marya,” he said sternly. She said a few quiet words to him and slipped out of the room. He came and stood over the bed. His face looked worn and tired. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. What happened out there? Where are Bennet and Nick?”

Alaz rubbed his face with his hands. “You were already out of sight when we heard a crack and then what sounded like an avalanche. As soon as everything was quiet, we yelled and yelled for you. You didn't answer.”

His tone carried an edge of dread. I asked the question again: “Where are Bennet and Nick, Alaz?”

His shoulders slumped as he sank into the chair. “Nick started down after you. Every second counted. He wouldn't wait for another rope to be hooked up and used the one attached to you. Bennet and I tried to brace it. Nick made it maybe sixty feet down. I could just make him out with my headlamp. Bennet leaned over on the edge and I was right behind her. Then Nick lost his footing. He screamed and tumbled out of view. That caused a powerful jolt on the rope, catapulting Bennet over the edge. It all happened in an instant. I almost went over myself. I couldn't catch her. I'm sorry.”

My pulse thundered. “They're both gone?” But why hadn't I seen them lying at the bottom of the chasm? Then I remembered the rock ledge. It must have broken their fall. I turned my head away. My stomach felt as though it was filled with lead. Both of them dead because I'd insisted on going into that godforsaken cave. I swallowed painfully. “Have you recovered their bodies?”

“No. You don't need to worry. No one will ever find them.”

“You can't do that! They have to be sent home—to their families. We can't leave them down there!”

“Yes we will. Do you have any idea what would happen if we went through government officials to send their bodies back to the U.S.?” He got up and paced the short length of the room. “It will be hard enough getting you out of the country. We know the back routes. When you are better we will take you to Turkey. Unless you want to spend the rest of your years in an Iranian prison.”

I put my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes. Exhaustion and grief drained my will. What he said made sense. When I got back I'd see Nick's adoptive family and any relatives Bennet might have. Confess everything. They'd have a better chance of retrieving their remains than I would. I looked at Alaz. “Thank you for trying to help. My friends meant a lot to me.”

He grunted and jerked his thumb toward the corner of the room. “I brought back their packs, so I got their room keys. The bags from the hotel and your climbing pack are there too. I paid for your rooms. You can leave the country as soon as you're better.” He gave me a weak smile, turned, and went out.

I maneuvered to the end of the bed and stretched out my arm just enough to hook my fingers around the strap of my climbing pack. It came away easily. Too easily. I pulled it over to the side of the bed, fumbled with the zipper for the main compartment, and stuck my hand inside. It was empty.

Forty-Four

I
swore. Who took the artifacts—Alaz? But maybe the donkey man had rummaged through my pack and taken them himself. I slumped back onto the bed. Who cared anyway? Nick and Bennet were gone.

Marya came in and set a little metal table beside the bed, then went back downstairs and returned with a tray bearing a steaming pot of tea and a bowl of soft, warm rice. She motioned for me to eat. I propped myself up on one elbow and dug into the rice, the first thing I'd eaten in days, bland but immensely comforting. Marya poured the tea into the cup. “Drink,” she said. “Helps sleeping.”

After I'd polished everything off she moved the table away and sat down. She looked at me as if she wanted to ask something but wasn't sure whether she should.

“What is it?” I tried to smile to reassure her.

She gave me a tentative nod, hesitated, then said, “Yeva. Have picture?”

I was about to say no when I remembered the photo we'd taken at the restaurant before I left for Turkey. I pointed to my yellow jacket, now torn and streaked with mud, hanging on a wall hook near my pack. Marya rose quickly and brought it over. I fumbled in one of the inside pockets, got my phone, and asked Marya to use my cable to plug it into the wall socket. The screen flashed on, overly bright in the dim light of the room. She brought the phone as close to me as she could. I clicked on the picture and passed her the phone. She took it in her hands and gazed at the image for a long time, touching the screen softly as if to reach across the thousands of miles and caress Evelyn's face. Her eyes clouded with tears. She wiped them away with a corner of her headscarf and handed the phone back. I couldn't imagine what it was like for a loved one to come back into your life after so many years.

“Thank you,” she said simply. Then she turned the kerosene lamp down low and resumed her vigil in the chair.

I drifted off, but not for long. I ached for Nick and Bennet, lost forever to me now, and felt too overburdened to sleep. Only much later, when I saw Marya nod off, did I finally give in. My tears flowed freely then.

Marya straightened up and came over to me; she must not have been sleeping after all. She looked at me with a question in her eyes.

“My friends are dead,” I whispered, turning away.

She stared openly now. Took in my skin, cut and battered from the caves, saw the grief written plainly on my face. She let out a little puff of breath, then bent her head and left the room. I barely heard her when she returned minutes later. She placed something in my open palm. Nick's watch. He never took it off. If he'd gone over the cliff as Alaz had said, there was no way I'd be holding it now.

I sat bolt upright. “Where …”

She pressed her fingers to my lips and shook her head. “Not dead,” she whispered.

I could have wept again, this time with relief. “Where are they?”

“Alaz take them to Eden.”

Forty-Five

“W
hat do you mean? Where is it?”

The look she gave me was pained and helpless. “Not know.”

Footsteps sounded downstairs. Just the old man, Mernoush, unable to sleep—or was Alaz coming up? Marya, clearly frightened, gestured to me to be silent. She extinguished the kerosene lamp and sat back down. The sound of footsteps grew less distinct. I heard her let out a sigh, and then she was silent.

Why had Alaz lied to me about Nick and Bennet? And what was he planning to do with them? Hold them for ransom? Extract information? My mind raced.
Why
he'd done it didn't matter right now. I had to find them.

I racked my brain for a clue I might have overlooked. According to David Rohl's book, if Eden really was an original name for this part of the Middle East, it denoted a vast area, hundreds of square miles surrounding Tabriz and Lake Urmia. It wasn't a dot on the
map. I wondered what was worse, believing Bennet and Nick were dead or learning they were alive with no way to save them.

I pretended to sleep until Marya went downstairs. Then I dragged my jacket onto the bed, unzipped the inside pocket, and hit pay dirt. My credit cards were still tucked inside. So were the keys to Nick's Jeep—I hadn't returned them after our trip to Tabriz for equipment. The boots I'd left in my hotel room sat beside my bag. I wedged the keys and credit cards into the toe of the boot and stuffed a sock in to keep them concealed. Eventually I slept, but fitfully.

March 13, 2005

The next morning I felt well enough to walk around the room and then go downstairs to use the bathroom. I looked terrible—what a relief it was to pour warm water into the basin and have a good wash. I ran my hand over my chin, feeling naked without my beard. The birthmark on my jaw glared like an ugly red scar. I changed into some clean clothes from the bag Alaz had retrieved from the hotel.

It was mid-afternoon when Alaz came to see me. Much as I wanted to beat him to a pulp, I held myself back. I lay on the bed, pretending to be a lot weaker than I was. He went over to Nick's pack and rifled through it.

“What are you looking for?”

“His keys. I need to take his rental car back to Tabriz.”

That Jeep was my lifeline. “Nick always kept the keys on him. You'd have to go back to the cave.”

“No.” Alaz rubbed his hand across his forehead.

“Nick used his credit card for the deposit,” I continued in what I hoped was a matter-of-fact way. “You'll need it to settle the bill.” None of this was true. Nick had paid cash, but Alaz wouldn't know that.

He muttered something under his breath and rushed down the stairs. I heard the front door slam when he went out.

I spent the remainder of the day planning my next moves. I wasn't sure whether I could make it to the Jeep, let alone find where Nick and Bennet were being held, but I had to try. That evening, when Marya brought my tea, I took a deep breath, explained my intentions, and asked for her help. My aim was to leave the house the moment Alaz went out again, whenever that would be. To my great relief Marya nodded solemnly in assent.

Just before dawn I heard a rustling downstairs and low voices. I looked out the window to see Alaz's tall form emerge from the front door. He greeted two shorter men. One took up position directly across from the house; the other walked off with Alaz. I prayed they'd be gone long enough.

Marya beckoned me to follow her. I stuffed our passports into my pack and then extracted the car keys and credit cards from my boot and shoved them on. She led me up a narrow staircase to the third floor.

The structure of Kandovan houses was determined by the conical stone outcrops from which they'd been hollowed out. Pockets in the stone provided natural indentations for windows and doors. Tunnels joined some residences internally; others were connected by exterior wooden slat bridges. The Nemat home had two old wooden doors, several windows, and happily, a third-story bridge spanning the space to the house next door. One of the upper doors led out onto this bridge. I made to go through it but Marya held me back. She gestured for me to leave the door open and to accompany her back down the stairs.

I followed her, matching the sound of my footsteps as best as I could to hers so as not to wake the old man. Stone steps don't creak—a big advantage. When we reached the front door, Marya
hesitated and looked down at her feet. Then, as she quietly opened the door, light fell on her face. It was wet with tears. She motioned for me to stay back, pushed the door almost closed, and hurried over to the man Alaz had posted as guard. I could hear them speaking urgently, and through the crack I saw Marya gesturing to the third-story bridge with a concerned look. The guy took the bait. He ran over to the house next door, up to the bridge, and then through the narrow stone gap between the two roofs, in hot pursuit of a phantom me. I whipped out the door, and with a backward look at Marya that I hoped conveyed my gratitude, strode as fast as I could manage in the opposite direction.