Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set (20 page)

“Wonderful!  When will it get to New York?”

“It’s not going to New York,” Kaplan said.  “At least not on this freighter.  The
Greenbriar
will take your shipment to Cork Harbor.  After that, we’ll have to make other arrangements for the second leg.”

“Can’t we get a non-stop?”

Kaplan’s smile was tolerant.  “No, love.  We don’t want a direct route.  Why draw a line straight to your door?  Much safer to break up the trip.  We ship your crate to a fictitious name in Cork where one of my associates picks it up, holds it awhile, then puts it on another ship to New York.  Bloody near impossible to trace.”

Carrie was uncomfortable with the thought of the Virgin lying in a moldy warehouse in Ireland, but if this sort of route would safeguard her secret...

“How do we pay you?”

“Cash, preferably.”

She looked at Dan.  Cash?  Who had cash?  All she had was the AmEx card Brad had given her.

“Do you take plastic?”

Kaplan sighed.  “I suppose we can work something out.”

‡

Jerusalem

Kesev had given up sitting and waiting.  Now he was pacing and waiting.  He’d explored every nook and cranny of the lobby, browsed all the shops until he thought he’d explode with frustration.  Where were these people, these Ferrises?  They had to turn in their rental sooner or later.

Didn’t they?

An awful thought struck him.  He ran to the Eldan counter.  Chaya was still there.  She’d just finished with a customer when Kesev arrived.

“How many offices—rental centers—do you have?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, furrowing her brow.  “Let’s see... a couple in Tel Aviv, a couple in Haifa, one at Ben Gurion—”

This was worse than he thought.  “Can these people, the Ferrises, turn their car in at any of them?”

“It’s not a practice we encourage.  In fact, there’s a drop-off fee that—”

Kesev tried to keep from shouting.  “Can they or can’t they?  A simple yes or no will do.”

“Yes.”

I am cursed by God, he thought.  I have always been cursed.

He wanted to scream, but that would solve nothing.

“I want you to call every Eldan agency in the country.”

“But sir—”

“
Every
one of them!  It won’t take you long.  See if the Ferris car has been turned in at any of them.  If not, give them this very simple message: The Ferrises rented their car here and you wish to be notified immediately if they turn in their car anywhere else. 
Immediately
.  Is that clear?  Is that simple enough?”

She nodded, cowed by his ferocity.

“Good.  Then get to it.”

He turned and stalked away from the counter to continue his pacing.  And as he paced he was haunted with the possibility that the Ferris couple might have had nothing at all to do with the disappearance of the Mother.

‡

Haifa

Haifa had its beauties and Carrie wished she could spend some time here seeing the sights.  Behind them rose Mount Carmel, high, green and beautiful; somewhere on its slopes, near the Stella Maris lighthouse, sat the Mount Carmel monastery, home of the Carmelite order; and in a grotto on the monastery grounds stood the cedar-and-porcelain statue of Our Lady of Mount Carmel.  Carrie would dearly love to climb the mountain to see it. 

But she had to be all business now as she and Dan stood in the monolithic shadow of the huge Dagon grain silo and watched the inspector check off the crates on the manifest from the Kaplan Gallery.  Her American Express account now carried the purchase price of a piece of “modern sculpture” from the Kaplan Gallery.  Carrie had nothing tangible to show for that charge, but the Virgin had been packed up and placed on the gallery’s shipping manifest.  Carrie scanned the ships anchored in the harbor but couldn’t make out their names in the hazy air.  One of them was the
Greenbriar
which would unknowingly start the Virgin on the first leg of her long journey to a new home.  Beyond the long breakwater stretched the azure expanse of the Mediterranean, bluer than she’d ever imagined a sea could be.

The creak of nails snapped her attention back to the docks.  The inspector was using a pry bar to open one of the crates.  She looked more closely. 

Good God, it was the Virgin’s crate!

She stepped forward but Dan grabbed her arm.

“Easy, Carrie,” he whispered.  “I told you we shouldn’t have come.”

True enough.  Carrie should have been satisfied that the Virgin was safe after watching Kaplan’s staff seal her into that excelsior-filled shipping crate, but she couldn’t let her go.  Not yet.  She’d insisted on accompanying the crate to Haifa.  There’d been this overpowering urge to see her off, like a child coming to the docks to wish a beloved parent bon voyage. 

And now she was glad she’d come.

“That’s
our
crate.  Why did he have to pick ours?”

“Kaplan warned us that they do spot checks.  Don’t worry.  She’ll pass.  Just stay calm.”

Carrie held her breath as the inspector lifted the crate top and pushed the excelsior aside.  He unfolded the blankets and she saw him freeze for a moment as he stared at the Virgin’s face.  She watched him lean closer, staring.

Please don’t touch her.  PLEASE don’t!

The inspector looked up from the crate and scanned the area.  He had close-cropped gray hair, wore aviator sunglasses, and carried himself like an ex-military man.  When he spotted Dan and Carrie, he tucked his clipboard under his arm and approached them.

Beside her, Carrie heard Dan mutter a soft, “Uh-oh.”

The inspector thrust his hand at Dan.  “Good day.  My name is Sidel.  You are the owner of that sculpture, I believe?”

“Yes,” Carrie said.  She noticed that he didn’t offer to shake hands with her.  “We just acquired it.”  She emphasized the first word.

“It’s most unusual for people to come down to the docks to see off a shipment, but in your case I can understand why.  What an extraordinary piece.  Who’s the artist, if I may ask?”

“Frankly, I don’t know,” Dan said.  “We saw it and just had to have it.”

Sidel nodded.  “I can understand.  I do a little toying with modeling clay myself, so I can appreciate the fantastic detail of this work.  You’re shipping it to Ireland?”

Carrie felt her heart begin to thump.  Why all these questions? 

But Dan was cool.  “The name’s Fitzpatrick, after all.”

“Enjoy it,” Sidel said, turning away.  “I envy you.”

Sidel returned to the crate, stared at the Virgin a moment longer, then shook himself and covered her again.  Carrie’s heart rate began to slow as the crate top was nailed back into place.  She sagged against Dan.

“Oh, Lord.  That was close.  For one very long minute there I thought...”

“You and me both.  All right.  We’ve seen her off.  Time to go.”

Reluctantly, Carrie had to agree.  They’d discussed their options as they’d followed the Kaplan Gallery truck to Haifa.  Dan saw two courses: Stay in Israel a while longer, then head home, or head directly home tonight.  He favored the latter.

Carrie agreed with getting out of Israel as soon as possible.  Just as she had at the Resting Place, she felt an urge to keep moving.  But she preferred a third route: Fly to Ireland and meet the
Greenbriar
in Cork, make sure the Virgin was transferred properly, then fly back to New York and wait for her there.

They’d argued but eventually Carrie had won, as she’d known she would.  From the outset she hadn’t the slightest intention of doing it any other way.

She’d called and learned that there was an El Al flight to London tonight.  If they hurried, they could make it.  From there it was practically a shuttle flight to Shannon.

They wheeled into Ben Gurion Airport with time to spare.  But they received a shock when they turned in the Explorer at the El Dan desk.

“Ferris!” said the thin, mustached man behind the counter.  “Boy, have you caused a stir.”

Carrie saw Dan go pale and felt her own heart kick up its tempo again.

“Really?” Dan said.  “What’s the problem?  Look, I know we rented the car in Jerusalem but I thought we could return it anywhere we—”

“Oh, that’s not the problem.  No drop-off fee if you turn it in here.  But somebody at the Jerusalem desk has been burning up the wires looking for you two.  Something about a Shin Bet fellow who wants to talk to you.”

“Shin Bet?” Carrie said.

“Right.  Domestic Intelligence.  Somewhat akin to your FBI, I believe.  But don’t worry.  You’re not in any trouble.  Just wants to ask you some questions.”

“Well, uh, we’ll be glad to cooperate in any way we can,” Dan said.  “Just, uh, have us paged.  We’ll be around for a while.”

His grip was tight on her arm as he led her toward the El Al ticket counters.  Her mouth felt dry.  Were they in trouble?

“Dan, what’s the matter?  Why would this Shin Bet—?”

His voice was tight.  “Somebody’s onto us.  How long before we leave?”

Carrie glanced at her watch.  “A little less than an hour.”

“Damn!”  He stopped.  “Look.  Before we buy our tickets and check our bags, let’s get changed.”

“Why?  What for?”

“It might give us an edge to be in uniform.”

‡

Jerusalem

Kesev had come to the end of his patience.  He was about ready to explode with frustration and start breaking some Hilton property when he saw someone gesturing to him from the Eldan desk.

Chaya had gone home.  Sharon, a brittle-looking peroxide blonde had replaced her.  She was waving a bony arm over her head.

“We found them!” she said, grinning as he approached.

Kesev’s heart leapt.  He wanted to take her in his arms and dance her around the lobby.  Perhaps God had not deserted him after all.  Perhaps this was just a warning.

“When?  Where?”

“They turned their rental into one of our Tel Aviv locations just a few moments ago.”

“Which one?”

“Ben Gurion.”

Kesev went cold.  The airport!  Merciful God, they’re leaving the country!

He wheeled and ran for the door.

“Where are you going?” Sharon called out behind him.  “You can call from here.  They said they’d be there awhile and you could page them!”

Page them?
  Kesev groaned as the meaning of her words sank in.  The Ben Gurion desk must have blabbered that someone was looking for them.  They’d probably be long gone by the time he got there.

‡

Ben Gurion Airport

Kesev was sure he made the fifty kilometers to Ben Gurion in record time.  For once luck was on his side.  The airport was designated Tel Aviv but actually it was in Lod, just east of the city.  If he’d had to fight city traffic, he’d still be in his car.  But he wasn’t looking for a racing medal.  He wanted the Ferrises. 

He flashed his ID at the El Al ticket desk and had them run a computer search for a couple by that name.  They found a single.  Carolyn Ferris.  On a one-way to Heathrow.  Seat 12C, non-smoking.  Boarding now.  Gate 17.

A single.  He was looking for a couple.  But this Carolyn was the only Ferris he had.  And if he didn’t check her out right now, she’d be gone.

Kesev ran for Gate 17.

He wasn’t armed so he had no problem with the metal detectors and his Shin Bet ID got him to the boarding area without a ticket.  But along the way he picked up a friend: Sergeant Yussl Kuttner of airport security. 

The last thing Kesev wanted at this point was someone looking over his shoulder, but he had no choice.  Anything that deviated from normal airport routine was Kuttner’s business, and allowing an unticketed man onto an El Al plane, even if he was Shin Bet, was certainly not routine.  Kuttner was armed and he wasn’t letting Kesev out of his sight.

“Just what is this passenger suspected of, Mr. Kesev?” Kuttner said, puffing as he trotted beside Kesev.

Kesev improvised.  “The home office didn’t have time to fill me in on all the details.  All I know is that an archeological artifact has been stolen and that the thieves will be trying to smuggle it out of the country.”

“And Shin Bet believes this passenger in 12C is involved?”

“We don’t know.  We do know one of the suspects is named Ferris.  That’s why I need to speak to her.  You really don’t have to bother yourself.”

“Quite all right.  Besides, if you want to remove her from the plane, you’ll need me.”

Kesev clenched his jaws.  This was getting stickier and stickier.  If only he’d had more time to set this up.

Kuttner led him down the boarding ramp to the loaded plane and explained the situation to the stewardesses while Kesev moved down the aisle, looking for row 12.

He froze, staring.  The right half of row 12 held only one passenger.  Seats A and B were empty.  Seat C was occupied by a nun.  A young, pretty nun.  Almost too pretty to be a nun.  That gave him heart.

“Excuse me, Sister,” he said, leaning forward.  “Is your name Ferris?”

“Why, yes,” she said, smiling.  She had a wonderful smile.  And such guileless blue eyes.  “Sister Carolyn Ferris.  Is something wrong?”

What to say?  He had no time to ease into this, so he might as well throw it in her face and see how she reacts.

He flashed his Shin Bet ID and kept his voice low.  “You’re wanted for questioning in regard to the theft of an archeological treasure that belongs to the Israeli government.”

She reacted with a dumbfounded expression. 

“What?  Are you mad?  Just what sort of treasure am I supposed to have stolen?”

“You know exactly what it is, Sister.  It doesn’t belong to you.  Please give it back.”

“Does it belong to you?”

The question took Kesev by surprise.  And she was staring at him, her narrowed eyes boring into his, as if seeing something there. 

“No...no...it belongs to—”

“Who are you?” she said.

“I told you.  Kesev, with—”

“No.  That’s not true.”  Her eyes widened now, as if she were suddenly afraid of him.  “You’re not who you say you are.  You’re someone else.  Who are you—really?”

Now it was Kesev’s turn to be dumbfounded.  How did she know?  How
could
she know?

Reflexively he backed away from her.  Who was this woman?