“You cannot disappear for three years without a single word,” she said, standing above him. “You cannot betray us like that.”
She was barely above five and a half feet tall, but she towered over Elad now. He had a feeling even if he had been standing, she would be just as intimidating.
“Tell me where you went,” the woman said.
She put a boot over his throat. Her small frame was all dense muscle mass and brutality. This was a woman he didn’t want to piss off—and it looked like his former self, whoever he was, had done exactly that.
“I truly don’t know,” he said, spitting out bloodied saliva.
The woman picked him up and righted his chair almost effortlessly.
“You’re telling me one of my agents simply walks out of Mossad in the middle of a mission with a CIA officer and doesn’t have any idea where they’ve been for the past three years.”
“I don’t know where I’ve been my whole life,” Elad said.
He tasted more blood on his tongue. His left ear rang from the blow she’d delivered.
“You know what we do with liars and traitors,” the woman said. “Especially ones that the government already thinks are dead.”
“I’m being honest. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what happened to me. And I can’t even tell you who I’m working for. Because I don’t know.”
The woman looked ready to tear him apart. “We are not here to play games.” She jabbed her finger into his sternum. “I want you to tell me everyone you worked with, everyone you saw, everything you did after that op with Gregory Ballard went wrong.”
“Look, you want info, I’m not the person you want to be talking to,” Elad said. “Talk to those other two, the ones that took me across the Red Sea.”
“Don’t tell me what I should do,” the woman said. “If you don’t talk, then I’ll be happy to bring in the tools necessary.”
Somewhere deep in his mind, Elad knew he had been prepared for this. Just like he had drawn on those hand-to-hand combat skills when he needed them most. His training—which he now guessed had come from Mossad—would have included enduring painful torture ranging from waterboarding to sleep deprivation to much more agonizing modes of “interrogation.”
His body instinctively tensed, his mind beginning to shut off as though to prepare for the impending physical pain. But no matter how many volts of electricity coursed through his body or how many nails this woman pulled from his fingers, he wouldn’t have the answers.
“I am telling you everything I know,” he said. “Which is very little.”
“How do you expect me to believe this?” the woman asked. Then she spoke into a mic on her lapel. “Bring them in.”
The door opened. A bearded man in a suit pushed a cart into the room. He left the cart and its contents beside the woman before leaving.
The woman opened a toolbox. She shuffled through tools that looked like they had come from everywhere from a dentist’s office to a carpenter’s workshop.
“Please, you must believe me,” Elad said.
The woman finally chose a pair of pliers. With Elad’s hands still tied, she reached for his fingers and placed the pliers on one of the nails.
“Stop,” Elad said. “You are Israeli, no?”
The woman gave a harsh laugh. “Is that a serious question? You pretend like you don’t know who I am.”
“I am entirely serious,” Elad said. Sweat rolled down his forehead. He stared down at the pliers.
“You always were one of my most talented field operatives. I am almost proud to admit I can’t tell if you’re lying or not.”
“Give me a chance to explain what little I can,” Elad said. “I’ll tell you what happened the last few days. Because I think you’ll want to know if you care at all about Israel. If you still don’t believe me, then do whatever you want with me. My answers won’t change.”
The woman smacked the pliers into her hand, patting them as if considering his offer. “Entertain me.”
Elad told her about waking up in Petra then surviving the attempt on his life in the hotel. Of his journey south and the stop at the castle, the mysterious vials he had recovered along with his attempt to find Dr. Smadi, all leading up to his flight across the Red Sea.
If any of that interested the scarred woman, she didn’t show it. Her expression was more stern and unreadable than the rocky mountains in Wadi Rum. But at least she was no longer playing with the pliers.
“When those gunmen attacked in Aqaba, you say you felt an immense pain,” the woman said. “Inexplicable, in your head. Anger and—”
“I felt as though I could barely control myself. I wanted to destroy the world. It took everything in me to keep my hands to myself.”
“And you don’t know what those vials were in your pack?”
Elad shook his head. “Alex and Skylar, the Americans, seem to think they have something to do with some kind of chemical weapon. They’re calling it the Ring of Solomon.”
“I see,” the woman said as she rummaged through the toolbox.
“I swear, that’s all I know,” he said.
“I know that’s what you told me.” She took out what appeared to be a set of bolt cutters. “I just need to confirm it with my own methods.”
-22-
Skylar figured they were screwed. One hundred percent, without-a-doubt screwed. Like, more screwed than a cheap hooker running a two-for-one special.
She paced the cramped prison cell. There really wasn’t much to pace. The place was a six-by-ten box with a sink and a hole in the ground that stank something fierce.
And half the damn cell was taken up by Alex. Somehow, he was meditating, drawing into himself despite the hours they had spent waiting anxiously for answers.
She could not understand how in the hell he did that.
“Hey, come on, someone tell us what’s going on!” She gripped the iron bars of the cell again.
She could just barely see down the hall, where there were other cells. The only sound she heard was dripping water echoing against the concrete walls.
“Damn it,” she said. “Elad’s samples. Those had to be the weapons Ballard was looking for. The Ring of Solomon, right there in our reach. And now we’re stuck in a damn Israeli prison. Probably gonna rot here the rest of our lives.” She kicked at the wall. “So much for being allies.”
Alex finally opened his eyes and stood, stretching. “Kasim will come through.”
“How do you know?” she asked. “And even if he gets ahold of his mysterious Mossad contact, what makes you think they’re going to want to jump us from this armpit of a jail?”
“If Kasim doesn’t come through, then we’ll figure it out,” he said.
“I don’t get how you can sit there so calm, Buddha. Our lives are at stake. Shit, a whole bunch of people’s lives.”
“Does kicking the wall and shaking the bars help?”
Skylar fumed. “We’re not going anywhere if we don’t talk to anyone.”
“It’s out of our hands for now,” Alex said. “Plus, the angrier we get, the more control they’ll have over us.”
Sometimes, Skylar liked Alex’s stoic demeanor. He had a way of maintaining a sense of calm when she was certain a storm was raging in his mind. Like when the Jordanians had been about to board their boat in the Red Sea. But that just wasn’t her thing. She would rather blow themselves out of this prison now and ask questions later. Letting these people boss them around, throw them in some cell like they were common criminals when they were trying to save the godforsaken world…
“You better be right,” she managed. “But if you aren’t, if they just keep us down here forever, then what?”
“Then I’d say it’s a good thing we’re friends,” Alex said.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Before she could say anything else, the door at the end of the corridor opened. Two men in suits marched toward them.
A woman followed, half of her face dis
figured by what must have been a nasty burn years ago. Skylar unconsciously touched her thigh, where she bore similar scars.
The woman spoke in Hebrew to the two men then looked at Skylar and Alex. “Up against the back wall, hands behind your back.” She slipped out a handgun from a holster at her waist. “You try anything, and you are never leaving this cell.” She gave Skylar a hard look. “Especially you. Understand?”
As much as she hated it, Skylar complied with the woman’s orders.
The men secured their wrists again with metal cuffs and blindfolded them. Skylar was guided out of the cell and climbed a set of stairs then pushed through a door, where she was greeted by a blast of arid wind. She heard a rumbling vehicle. The crack of opening doors. Someone shoved her into the back seat of the vehicle. The thump afterward told her Alex was there too.
Then they were off.
They traveled for a good half hour before finally slowing. She was shoved out of the vehicle and onto her feet then prodded forward. The heat of the sun bore down on her, cooking her flesh until a door opened. A sudden rush of cold blasted over her as she entered a building.
Someone finally removed her blindfold.
She and Alex stood in what looked to be a hospital corridor. A biting, sterile scent wafted over them. Most of the lights were turned off, giving the place a dark, haunted look. Either this place had been abandoned or these people wanted to pretend no one was using this part of the hospital.
Either way, Skylar didn’t like what that might mean for her. In her short time fighting biological and chemical weapons, she knew these despicable people liked to operate in places that looked like this.
“We have to do a little experiment,” the woman said, seeming to confirm Skylar’s worst fears. “Keep moving.”
She had her pistol in hand again. Skylar thought about what it might take to disarm the woman and escape. Something about her and the two men flanking her gave Skylar the impression these were not the average foot soldiers or hired guns.
They guided Alex and Skylar into a room with a huge, doughnut-shaped machine that Skylar recognized. A wide window led to an observation chamber.
“You will each undergo a CT scan,” the scarred woman said. “Doctors?”
A man and woman each dressed in a white coat emerged from the open door to the observation room.
“We’ll do this one first,” the woman said, pointing to Skylar.
“What’s going on?” Skylar asked.
“We’re about to find out,” the woman replied. She tapped the pistol holstered at her side. “Any more questions?”
Skylar pursed her lips but said nothing.
The doctors set Skylar on the hard plastic sliding bed portion of the CT scanner, strapping her into place. Then they retreated from the room. The device hummed to life with a series of clicks and whirs. Skylar tried to stay calm as she slid through the claustrophobic scanner.
The CT scanner would provide a 3D image of her body. But what were these people looking for?
Then a dark realization settled into her.
What if she was a human lab rat? What if the chemical agent she had evidently inhaled in Amman was a test that these people were running, and they were just now collecting her to analyze the results?
An uncontrollable shudder tore through her body.
“Remain still,” one of the doctor’s voices boomed over the speakers in the CT room.
When the machine finally finished, it was Alex’s turn. Her legs and arms were tied up again as she watched him endure the same procedure from the observation chamber.
Afterward, Alex was brought back into the room and ordered to stand next to Skylar. One of the doctors started a program at the computer workstation. A bank of three monitors showed the image reconstruction process as the series of 2D X-rays was compiled into three-dimensional models of Alex and Skylar in real time.
Skylar watched the doctors scan through the results.
“On the left screen is your scan,” the woman with the scars said, pointing at Skylar. “And the one on the right is yours.” She gestured to Alex. “This is what’s in those thick heads of yours.”
Their skulls showed in white, their brains gray.
“You are searching for the Ring of Solomon, right?” the woman asked Alex and Skylar. Evidently, Skylar wasn’t so hot at hiding her surprise. “Don’t act so shocked. I had a very long conversation with Elad about it.”
“What happened to him?” Alex asked.
“Not your concern,” the woman said.
He looked like he wanted to press her on it, but Skylar surreptitiously stepped on his foot. Leave it to the Boy Scout to be more concerned about a guy they just met than his own skin.
One of the doctors scrolled through the reconstructed image creating virtual slices of her brain. He stopped about halfway through and pulled up a slice from Alex’s brain next to Skylar’s. Alex’s brain looked normal. At least, whatever Skylar figured a normal brain should look like.
Skylar’s did not.
“You want to find the Ring of Solomon?” The woman traced her finger around what appeared to be a dissolving halo in Skylar’s brain. “There it is.”
While Alex had strongly suspected that Skylar’s inexplicable mood changes had something to do with the Ring of Solomon, this proved it.
After completing the CT imaging analysis, the woman had escorted Alex and Skylar to a laboratory deep in the bowels of the hospital. There, they were surrounded by a bevy of blinking and humming equipment.
Alex and Skylar’s ankles and wrists were still tied together, but at least no one was aiming guns at them. The guards who had escorted them into the hospital waited outside the laboratory. They were joined by a wiry man in a tan suit. He had dark, curly hair. His lips seemed to be on the verge of cracking a smile all the time, which seemed odd given the circumstances. Alex instinctively didn’t trust him. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. He leaned against the lab bench, his thin arms folded over his chest.
His almost cheerful expression was a stark contrast to the woman’s. Alex could see her anger from the thin lines between her brows and the way her eyes were permanently narrowed as if she disapproved of everything in sight.
“Can you tell us why we’re here now?” Alex asked.
The woman shook her head. “What is it with you and Elad thinking you all can storm into Israel and ask us questions?”
A sigh escaped her lips as she approached them. She held up her fingers, bringing her thumb and index finger together until there was only a millimeter gap. “We were this close to making the world forget you ever existed. Fortunately, I am not as heartless as some people think I am.”
The man with the short curly hair gave them a shrug like he wasn’t sure he believed her. “She’s lying. I’ve see the X-rays, and she has no heart.”
The woman ignored him.
“You two work for Abraham Kasim,” she said. Before Alex could open his mouth, she gave him a dismissive wave. “There is no need to deny it. You are far past plausible deniability. That’s why everyone else is outside and it’s just you two, myself, and David Friedman here.”
The man gave a friendly, affected wave like they were neighbors out mowing their lawns. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
“I am Rahel Arnon,” she said. “I am trusting you with my full name because Kasim trusts you. And I want you to know that if you betray us, I will also kill you because you know who I am. Is that clear?”
“I can’t promise anything until I know what we’re doing here,” Alex said.
“You came into my country,” Arnon said. “I assumed you had some idea of what you were doing.”
Alex swallowed his frustration. “You know what I mean.”
Arnon nodded toward Friedman. He fished a phone out of his pocket and turned it on, facing the screen toward Alex and Skylar. It showed an image of Kasim’s bearded face.
“It’s good to see you two,” Kasim said, his
voice tinny over the phone. “I’m glad you look relatively unharmed.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Skylar said.
“I realize this is unorthodox,” Kasim continued, “but I want you to work directly with Rahel. She’s already briefed me on what they’ve been up to, and I think we’re better off teaming up on this one. Morris has already shared everything we know about the Ring of Solomon, Gregory Ballard, and Elad Luria with her. You should feel free to assume your conversations with her and Friedman will remain confidential.”
“This isn’t just some coerced recording you got from him, is it?” Skylar asked, ever skeptical. “Or like, a deep fake? They can do all kinds of shit with computers.”
“Not at all,” Kasim said. “I’m here right now. In fact, I’m in the operations center being subject to our good friend Morris’s charming taste in music.”
There was a faint undercurrent of noise emanating from Morris’s computer when Kasim rotated the phone on his end to show the analyst.
The fact that he had revealed another member of their team and a portion of the operations center was an unspoken gesture to Alex that Kasim truly did trust Rahel Arnon.
“You’re in good hands,” Kasim said. “Get in touch when you can.”
Friedman pocketed the phone again.
“I’m afraid we don’t have much time, so I will get directly to the point,” Arnon said. She took a knife from a sheath hidden under her jacket. She cut the ropes around Alex and Skylar’s wrists then stepped back. “We’re uncertain exactly what Elad Luria’s role in the Ring of Solomon is since his disappearance three years ago was correct.”
“He was also working with Ballard at the time, right?” Alex asked.
“He was,” Arnon said. “They were identifying trade routes being used by the Syrian government to transport chemical weapons. He and Ballard followed a lead to a shipping warehouse close to the Al Karamah border crossing between Jordan and Iraq. It was from that mission that he didn’t return. Ballard reported a shootout between some smugglers and our agent. He said Luria froze in the middle of the gunfight then was shot.”
Demon Mind (Vector Book 2) Page 20
