By the Rivers of Babylon

by Nelson DeMille

  The rabbi knew he’d been taken by a sharp operator. He was angry, but impressed. “What?” He looked down at his hand. “Oh. This. It’s an abomination. I hate to touch it. A false idol.” He held it up to the sunlight. “Becker found it in the grave he’s digging.”

  Hausner moved closer. It was some sort of winged demon fashioned out of what appeared to be terra cotta, although Hausner thought for a wild moment that it was something mummified. It had the body of an emaciated man with an oversized phallus and the most hideous face Hausner could ever remember seeing represented in any type of art. “I think this should make old Dobkin’s day complete. He’s been annoying everyone about sifting through the rubble on their breaks. Let me have it.”

  The rabbi turned it in his hand so it faced him. “It’s really too obscenely ugly to be exposed in the sunlight of God’s world. It belongs to another time. It should have stayed in darkness.” He gripped the clay figure tightly until his knuckles went white.

  Hausner stood transfixed. A gust of scorching wind picked up the fine dust around him and obscured everything in front of him for a second. He yelled through the wind and dust. “Don’t be a damned fool. We don’t do that in the twentieth century. Give it to me!”

  Rabbi Levin smiled and loosened his grip on the demon. The wind dropped and the brown cloud settled to the earth. He held the figure out toward Hausner. “Here. It’s meaningless. God would laugh at my superstition if I smashed it. Give it to General Dobkin. My compliments.”

  Hausner took it. “Thank you.” They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Hausner turned and walked off.

  * * *

  Hausner strode quickly along the crest of the steep slope overlooking the Euphrates. He looked down. It was about a hundred meters to the river, and he wondered how Dobkin thought he was going to descend it without being seen, even at night.

  At the base of the slope, once the foot of the citadel, a few dusty little bushes that looked like castor oil plants grew along the bank. There were also clumps of bulrushes, and Hausner knew that Ashbals were posted there.

  The Euphrates looked cool and inviting. Hausner licked his parched lips as he made his way south along the perimeter. Men and women stopped digging at their positions to look at him as he walked by. He moved faster.

  Hausner stopped at McClure and Richardson’s location. He noticed that they had erected quite an elaborate position. There was a chest-deep firing position with a crenelated wall of earth around it like a miniature castle. There was a small sun shield fashioned from seat covers and straightened seat springs. It blew in the growing wind and looked as though it might not hold up. “It looks like the Alamo.”

  McClure bit a matchstick in half and spit out one end. “It is the Alamo.”

  Both men were covered from head to foot with grime and sweat. Richardson’s blue Air Force tunic lay in a hollowed shelf of the hole, neatly folded and partly wrapped in a pair of women’s panties. Hausner wasn’t angry to see that Richardson was thinking ahead. He gave him credit for it. Hausner assumed a more formal attitude. “We have been offered terms, as you have probably heard. We cannot accept those terms. You can, however. And you can accept them with no shame and no fear. Rish will hold you only as long as it is necessary to keep this location secret from the world. No matter what happens, you go free. I’m fairly certain he will live up to that. They don’t want any trouble with your government. I ask you to please leave here. It would be better for everyone.”

  McClure sat down on the edge of the hole and swung his long legs in front of him. “I feel kind of important here. I mean, being the only gun on the west side of the hill. I was the first one here last night, and I think I might have stopped those fellers from trying this slope. Besides, I put a lot of improvements into this real estate. I think I’ll stay here.”

  Hausner shook his head. “I don’t want you two here. You’re a complication.”

  McClure looked down at his shoes for a while. “Well, if you want to know the truth, I don’t want to be here myself. But I don’t want to take my chances with that Rish feller, either. If you start beating the shit out of him tonight, he’ll forget we’re neutrals damn quick and start squeezing our nuts for information about the weak points in this setup. Think about that.”

  Hausner thought about it. He looked at Richardson. “Colonel?” He could see that Richardson looked unhappy. Clearly, something was going on between these two.

  Richardson cleared his throat. “I’m staying. But, goddamn it, I think you might try to parley again before sundown.”

  “I’ll take your advice under consideration, Colonel. And if either of you change your mind . . . then I’ll have to think about it in light of what Mr. McClure has said.”

  “You do that,” said McClure. “And send over some of them kerosene bombs you’re making. I can chuck one right down into those bushes and bulrushes tonight and light up the whole river bank.”

  Hausner nodded. “I’d like that. Incidentally, General Dobkin is leaving the perimeter tonight after sundown and before moonrise. He will be exiting here from your position. Try to observe the patterns and habits of the sentries down there. Give him whatever help you can.”

  McClure didn’t ask any questions. He just nodded.

  * * *

  Dobkin was standing near a large, round black ball that came up to his chest.

  Hausner, walking back from McClure and Richardson’s position, saw him examining it under the tip of the port-side delta. He walked up to him. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  Dobkin looked up. “It was thrown out of the tail section when it blew. It was lying there on the southern ridge, hidden by the terrain. Leiber found it when he was looking for stores. I had it brought here.”

  “That’s nice. What the hell is it?”

  Dobkin patted it. “Kahn says it’s the compressed-nitrogen bottle.”

  Hausner nodded. The bottle was a backup to the hydraulic system. The compressed gas performed hydraulic functions in an emergency, until it ran out. “Can we use it?”

  “I think so. It’s a muscle. Energy waiting to do something.”

  “Is it full?”

  “Kahn says it is. There’s a lot of raw energy here if we can tap it. It has a valve, see?”

  Hausner tapped on it with his knuckles. “Put the word out that I want some inspired thinking on this. Another little problem to keep our group of super-achievers busy. Idle minds are the playthings of the Devil. . . . Which reminds me . . .” Hausner held up the winged demon, “What’s this?”

  Dobkin took it carefully and held it cradled in his hands. He looked at its face for a long time before he spoke. “It’s Pazuzu.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He smiled, but Dobkin did not smile back.

  Dobkin scratched some dirt away from the enlarged penis with his thumbnail. “The wind demon. It brings sickness and death.”

  Hausner watched Dobkin examining it for a minute. “Is it . . . valuable?”

  Dobkin looked up. “Not as such. It’s terra cotta. And it’s not an unusual example, but it’s in good condition. Who found it?”

  “Becker. He’s digging a grave for Hess.”

  “Appropriate.” He cleaned off the face with a bit of saliva. “I really didn’t expect to find much here. This was the top of the citadel. The battlements and watchtowers. There must be meters of dust piled on top of them. Strange to find anything in so shallow a hole.” He looked up at Hausner. “Thank you.”

  “Thank the rabbi. He overcame an irrational urge to smash it.”

  Dobkin nodded. “I wonder if it was irrational.”

  * * *

  The remainder of the afternoon was spent in fatiguing labor. Trenches grew longer and deeper and snaked toward each other. In some places they joined, and, in fact, the object was to join them all—if they were to be there long enough—to make up an integral system, stretching from the Euphrates at the north ridge to the Euphrates at the south ridge. The defenses along th
e western slope consisted only of individual foxholes.

  Before dusk, Hausner ordered a rest period for personal grooming. The men were ordered to shave. Hausner expected an argument, but got none. The shaving water was reused to make mud for face camouflage.

  The nitrogen bottle posed a diversionary problem for the mechanically minded. It rose out of the brown earth like a monolith, black and mute. Hausner offered a half-liter of water to anyone who could find a use for it.

  The Sherji grew stronger and hotter, and dust began to cover everyone and everything. People with respiratory problems had difficulty breathing.

  The sun set at 6:16. The truce was over, and their fate was again in their own hands. Hausner watched as the blazing red circle sank into the western mud flats. Overhead, where the night met the day, the first stars showed in the darkness. In the east, the sky was already black as velvet. By the ancient Hebrew conception of measuring time, the day was nearly finished. The Sabbath was ended. The rabbi’s influence would be slightly reduced.

  Hausner walked toward the lightly guarded western slope. He found a small depression in the earth, away from anyone else, and lay down in the dust. He stared up at the changing sky. The air rapidly cooled as it does on the desert, and the Sherji dropped to a soft breeze. Hausner stared without blinking at the marvelous black sky studded with stars brighter and closer than he had seen them since childhood. Then, the days were all sun-splashed and the nights were all starlight and magic. It had been a long time since he had lain outdoors on his back under the stars.

  He stretched sensuously in the warm, yielding dust. The dark half of the sky fell westward and pushed the light half down further into the west. It was all so incredibly beautiful. It was no wonder, he thought, that the desert peoples of the world had always been more fanatical than other groups about their gods. You could almost touch them and see them in the stunning interplay of terrestrial and celestial phenomena.

  Out on the mud flats, a pack of jackals howled. Their howling got closer very quickly, and Hausner guessed that they were running toward the Euphrates. They were pursuing some unfortunate small prey that had ventured out to drink under cover of darkness. They howled again, long and malevolently, then came the awful shrieks and sounds of struggle, then quiet. Hausner shuddered.

  The strange dusk of the desert lasted only a few minutes after the sun set, followed by what pilots and military people euphemistically called EENT, end of evening nautical twilight—darkness.

  The moon would not rise for hours. Would Rish attack, like the jackals, during this period of darkness, or would he wait until much later when the moon set? Brin had not seen the Ashbals moving from the Ishtar Gate area toward their attack during this period of darkness, he would move his men into the attack positions. There was only the thin line of sentries at the base of the hill. But that didn’t mean anything. If Rish were going to attack positions after dark. Any commander would. That gave the Israelis about half an hour before an attack could be launched. Enough time to bury Moses Hess.

  * * *

  Hausner considered not going to the funeral. It was meaningless. He could draw more spiritual strength from staring at the heavens than from looking into a hole in the ground and listening to Rabbi Levin talk about them.

  Hausner tried to pick out the constellations, but it had been a long time. Ursa Major was easy and so were Orion and Taurus, but the rest were meaningless groupings. He had more luck with the individual stars. Castor and Pollux. Polaris and Vega.

  It was the Babylonians who were the primary astrologers of the ancient world. Like the inhabitants of modern Iraq, they slept on the flat roofs of their houses at night. How could they fail to develop a vast amount of lore concerning the heavenly bodies? Their learning was jealously guarded and at first did not spread to the other civilizations. But after the downfall of Babylonia, they traveled the ancient world as professional astrologers. Long after Babylon was forgotten by the ancients, the name Chaldean, synonymous with Babylonian, became another name for astrologer, magician, and sorcerer. The fate of Babylon as a state was to be remembered for her haughtiness and corruption. The fate of her people was to wander the world, selling their ancient mysteries for bread, and in the end to be remembered only as magicians. But the world gained a profound knowledge of the stars in the process. It was strange, reflected Hausner, that of all the learned people of the ancient world, only the Jews never took an interest in astrology or astronomy. He could probably develop an entire theory as to why that was so, but he felt too lazy and too tired to bother.

  * * *

  She knelt down next to him and stared at him in his shallow hole. “That’s morbid. Come out of there.”

  “It’s a womb.” He couldn’t see her at all. How in the world did she find him, and how did she know it was he? She must have been close by when it was light.

  “It’s far from that. It’s dry and dead. Get up. The funeral is beginning.”

  “Go on ahead.”

  “I’m afraid. It’s totally black. Walk me there.”

  “I never go to funerals on a first date. We have about fifteen minutes. Let me make love to you.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Laskov?”

  “Yes. And my husband. I can’t bear another complication.”

  “I am a lot of things, Miriam, but a complication is not one of them.” He could hear her breathing. She was very close, probably less than a meter. He could reach out . . .

  “It’s wrong. Teddy, I could justify. You, I could not justify to—to anyone. Least of all to myself.”

  He laughed, and she laughed and sobbed at the same time. She caught her breath. “Jacob, why me? What do you see in me?” She paused. “What do I see in you? I loathe everything about you. I really do. Why do these things happen to people? If I loathe you, why am I here?”

  Hausner reached out and found her wrist. “Why did you follow me?” She tried to pull away, but he would not let go. “If you follow a dangerous animal,” he said, “you should know what you are going to do when you track him to his lair. Especially when you turn to leave and you find him standing at the entrance. If he could talk, he would ask you what you had in mind when you followed him. And you should have a good answer.”

  She didn’t speak, but Hausner could hear her breathing getting heavier. Some kind of animal reaction subtly passed through her body, and Hausner felt it in those few square centimeters of her skin that were pressed to his. The pitch of her breathing changed, and he could swear that he could smell something that told him she was ready. In the dark, without any visual message, he knew that she had gone from alert and guarded to passive and submissive. He was surprised at his own heightened perceptions—and very confident of their accuracy. He pulled gently on her wrist and she rolled, unresisting, into his dusty resting place.

  She lay on top of him and he helped her undress, then they lay on their sides facing each other and he undressed. Her skin was smooth and cool, as he expected it would be. He pressed his lips onto her mouth and felt her respond. She lay back on their crumpled clothes and raised her legs. Hausner lay between them and felt her firm thighs come around and grip his back with surprising strength. He went into her easily and lay still for a second. He wanted to see her face and was sorry he couldn’t. He told her so. She replied that she was smiling. And when he asked her if her eyes were smiling, too, she said that she believed they were.

  He moved slowly and she responded immediately. He could feel her nipples harden on his chest, and her breath blew in a rhythmic hot stream on his cheek and neck.

  He put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her. She let out a little sound of pain as he thrust too far. He picked up his head and stared at her face, trying to see it. It was an incredibly black night, but the stars were growing stronger and he could finally see her eyes—black as the sky itself—pinpoints of reflected starlight. He thought he could read the expression in them, but he knew that it must be only a trick of the remote starlight.r />
  She began to move spasmodically beneath him. Her buttocks rolled sensuously into the warm dust. Hausner heard his own voice speaking softly to her, saying things he would never have said except in total darkness. And she answered him in kind, protected also by that invisibility, like a child who covers his face while disclosing his deepest secrets. Her voice became rich and throaty and her breath came in short convulsive gasps. A soft ripple passed through her body, followed by a long spasm. Hausner’s body tensed for a second, then shuddered violently.

  They lay still, holding on to each other. The wind passed over them, cooling the sweat on their bodies.

  Hausner rolled onto his side. He ran his hand over her breasts, feeling them rise and fall. His thoughts were not clear yet, but they included the knowledge that he had compromised his position. In Tel Aviv, this would have been fine. Here, it was not. But it could only have happened here. Strategic and tactical considerations aside, he was fairly certain that he loved her, or would love her very soon. He wanted to ask her about Laskov and about her husband, but these were things that had to do with the future. Therefore, they were irrelevant now. He tried to think of something to say that he thought she would like to hear, but couldn’t think of anything. So he asked, “What would you like me to say? I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say nothing,” she said and held his hand to her breast.

  * * *

  The stars were stronger and there were more of them now. The Euphrates magnified the thin, cold starlight, and Hausner could see the group of about twenty dark shapes standing around the grave and silhouetted against the wide river. He moved closer but stayed behind the group. Miriam stood beside him for a second, then moved among the people to the graveside.

  Moses Hess was lowered gently into his grave. The rabbi said the El Male Rachimim, the Prayer for the Dead, in a loud, clear voice that rolled down the slope, across the river, and onto the mud flats.