The Second Messiah (60 page)

“And what’s that exactly?”

“An exchange. We get the scroll and you get your freedom.”

“Somehow I doubt the latter. Who’s doing the exchanging?”

“Hassan called Buddy Savage and told him where the scroll was buried. He gave him instructions to bring it to us, otherwise you’d die. But I promise you no harm will come to you, Jack, just so long as Buddy doesn’t try any double-cross.” Her eyes moistened. “I’ve lost Nidal. There’s been enough killing. I don’t want any more of it.”

“So the bottom line is, Hassan wants the scroll back.”

“It rightfully belongs to the Bedu. Just like all the other scrolls found at Qumran. Hassan now intends to release them to the public, along with dozens of other scrolls he’s collected over the years. They will expose the Israelis and the Vatican for what they are, liars and thieves.”

“Why didn’t he do that long ago?”

“He had evidence but not enough. This scroll was the solid proof that he’d always hoped to find. It was the jewel in the crown.” She came over and took hold of his face. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the lips and looked into his eyes. “And just for the record, I did like you, Jack. I still do. If things were different, who knows what might have become of us?”

“That’s a polished brush-off, I’ll give you that.”

She reached out and gently grazed his cheek with her hand. “A word of advice, Jack. Please don’t meddle with Hassan. If you try anything that would jeopardize the exchange, I promise you, my brother will kill you.”

“He’ll kill me anyway, I’ll guarantee you that.”

A moment later the plane lurched and a cabin light chimed on. The cabin door opened and Hassan appeared, slid into the seat, and buckled his belt. “You made it clear to Cane what will happen if his friend Savage messes this up?”

“Yes, Hassan.”

“Good.” Hassan glared at Jack. “Remember the warning, Cane.”

The Lear banked sharply and dipped again, the landing gear whirring into place. Jack peered past the window. A faint orange glow streaked the horizon. He thought he recognized the distant shape of the mountains of Edom.

Minutes later the knot of fear he felt in his stomach turned to steel as the Lear finally touched down with a wild squeal of rubber.

THREE HUNDRED MILES
away, another Lear jet was fifteen minutes from commencing its final approach into Tel Aviv’s Ben-Gurion Airport.

Julius Weiss handed a satellite phone back to his aide, who immediately exited the cabin. Weiss sighed, made a steeple of his fingers, and turned to address Ari and Lela, seated opposite.

“It seems our intelligence was right. Air traffic control registered that the helicopter from Bracciano landed at a private airfield outside Rome. Fifteen minutes later the Lear jet owned by Hassan Malik departed the same airfield, with a flight plan bound for Beirut. However, they altered the flight plan midflight.”

“For where?” Ari asked.

“Amman, Jordan. Except Amman air traffic control hasn’t heard from them yet. Hassan Malik may well have used the Beirut and Amman destinations as a ploy. Which means he could be headed anywhere.” Weiss’s mouth tightened in a look of frustration. “What the devil is he up to? We logged another flight Hassan made yesterday to Amman.”

Lela frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“He flew to Amman in his private jet, with his brother’s body on board. Where he went after that we couldn’t determine. But less than three hours later he flew back to Rome, minus the body. It seems he may have buried his brother. And one of our operatives too.”

“Who?”

Weiss addressed Lela. “The Bedu foreman on the Qumran site, Josuf. He was an occasional source who fed us tidbits of information when it suited him. It was he who told us Cane was headed for
Maloula
. Josuf was due to contact Mossad yesterday but hasn’t been heard of. I have a terrible feeling that Hassan may have discovered his treachery and dealt with him.”

Weiss fixed Lela with an icy stare. “Well, Inspector, any suggestions as to where we might find Hassan? Seeing as you helped to get us into this mess?”

“My gut instinct tells me he’s headed to wherever Jack hid the scroll, which is probably somewhere near Qumran. There must be dozens of abandoned military airfields out in the desert where his aircraft could land.”

“You have a point.”

Ari said to Lela, “Maybe he’s already killed Cane.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep him alive until the scroll’s retrieved?”

Weiss considered, then ran a hand tiredly over his face and sighed again. “Maybe, but Hassan’s a wily fox who has the advantage. And our big problem is that Cane really could have hidden the scroll anywhere, not just near Qumran.”

Lela said, “What if Hassan finds it?”

“Then all hell will break loose. I do hope you have a good pension plan, Inspector.” Weiss suddenly looked tired. “In fact, I’m going to need one myself. To be honest, I intend to hand in my resignation to the prime minister as of tomorrow. I’m getting too old for this game, and I’m not sure I like it anymore. Maybe it’s time to do something less stressful, like opening a topless bar in Gaza.”

Weiss’s aide came though the cabin again, still holding the satellite telephone. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but it’s urgent. Another call has come through and I have a feeling we may need to overfly Tel Aviv. Detour to one of our military air bases near the Jordanian border.”

“What the devil are you talking about? A call from whom?” Weiss demanded.

“Sergeant Mosberg from the Jerusalem police. He wants to speak with Inspector Raul.”

BUDDY SAVAGE HALTED
the Land Cruiser and killed the headlights. He was fifteen minutes from the Jordanian border. Barren desert lay ahead, broken only by clumps of rocks and a few palm-fringed wadis.

He knew that the nearest Israeli military outpost was five miles away but their patrols diligently scoured the surrounding area. Savage worried about that. Just as he worried about how the endgame was going to play out. He plucked a pair of powerful Zeiss binoculars from the glove compartment and swept the landscape, dusky with a faint murky gray.

Nothing.

Not even a light or a plume of dust to indicate that he wasn’t alone. His cell phone chirped. Savage’s heart skipped. He flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“Are you near the rendezvous, Savage?”

“Near enough. Maybe fifteen minutes away.”

“Continue to drive southeast. After five miles you’ll reach a wadi, with a half-dozen palms. Halt your vehicle, step twenty yards away from it, and wait.”

Savage didn’t reply.

The silence went on and then the voice said, “Did you hear me, Savage?”

“Yeah, I heard you, but there’s been a change of plan,” he said matter-of-factly.

“There’s only one plan, Savage. The one I told you about—”

Vehemence sounded in Savage’s reply. “Listen, you piece of dirt,
whoever
you are. Just shut your mouth and hear what I have to say or you can kiss the scroll good-bye—that’s a promise.”

Savage heard the stunned silence down the line, and then the reply was pure fury. “Savage, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. If a man talks to me like that, he’d better be prepared to lose his life.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me right the first time. I said shut your mouth. Now you’re going to listen to
my
plan. Because if you think I’m going to walk into a trap you’ve got to be a total moron. I’ve got the scroll. And you want it. Are we at least clear on that? So from now on you do as
I
say.”

“I’ve got your friend Cane,” the caller protested, his voice still firm, but a slight waver there.

“Yeah, and his life obviously ain’t worth a cent if you’re prepared to trade it for the parchment. So this is how it’s going to pan out, pal; this is how we’re going to do our trade. But a word of warning: you try and mess with me and I swear I’ll burn the scroll to ashes. Got that?”

There was a long pause. Savage could almost feel the white-hot anger on the line, and then the voice, suddenly calm and very composed, said, “What do you propose?”

“This isn’t a proposal, it’s an order. You come alone and you bring Cane. And now here’s exactly how we’re going to do it.”

Savage sat for a moment, sweating, breathing deeply, thinking hard. His mind was ablaze as he removed his baseball cap and wiped his brow. He didn’t like the sound of the caller’s voice. Angry at first, then perfectly calm. A real pro, he guessed. Not someone you messed with.

But then neither was he.

Turning back to the briefcase, Savage hefted out a Browning 9mm pistol with polished walnut handles. The same gun Pasha had given him in case there were ever problems. The same gun he’d threatened Professor Green with before he’d used the knife instead and stabbed him to death.

Savage had stashed the pistol at Qumran behind a rock marker, ready to be retrieved if he needed it. And he needed it now. He
needed
it to put everything to bed, tie it all up in a neat bow, once and for all.

Nothing had gone the way he’d originally planned. The whole scheme was messed up, everything all over the place like a madman’s mind. But then every dark cloud had a silver lining. And he’d just been handed one—a chance to resolve the entire mess.

Savage felt the solid weight of the Browning pistol in his hand and checked to see that the magazine was loaded before he snapped it home. Then he tucked the pistol inside the briefcase and clicked it shut. He turned the ignition key and the Land Cruiser’s engine throbbed to life. He dimmed the lights and turned in an arc, heading for his new rendezvous.

THE SERB TURNED
the pickup onto the rocky desert track. Hassan sat in the passenger seat. Jack felt cramped between both men, his hands bound in front of him with thin, blue plastic rope. Dawn was still struggling to rise over the mountains of Edom.

Hassan said, “Pull in here.”

The Serb halted and jerked on the handbrake. The second pickup following them pulled up right behind. Hassan jumped out, clutching a pair of night-vision binoculars and used them to sweep the dusky, rolling desert landscape. Behind him, Yasmin disembarked from the other pickup and joined him. “Do you see Savage’s vehicle?”