by K. T. Tomb
“Where is Zubeida now, Rashid?”
“She should be in the lobby supervising the guard’s shift relief, the second set will be going off for their lunch break now.”
“Have her come up here as soon as she is finished, please,” Anthony said.
Rashid pressed a button on the device in his ear and then said, “Zubeida, would you please come up to the office after the shifts have been changed?”
They could not hear the response, but Rashid nodded his head and then said, “Thank you.”
“She’ll be here shortly.”
“In the meantime, do you have any pictures of the missing Watchers from Qena and of the Northman?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Could you lend them to me for a minute please?” Anthony asked, politely.
“Absolutely.”
When Zubeida came into the office, Anthony introduced himself and asked her to tell him about what had happened two days before when the men came to clean the floors. Zubeida gave him the account in as much detail as she could and then Anthony showed her the pictures one by one, starting with the Northman’s.
“No, I don’t know that man,” she said, but when Anthony showed her the other two she quickly identified them as the two new cleaners that had been there to do the floors.
“Thank you Zubeida, that will be all,” Rashid said and watched as she left the office.
“Those infidel weasels!” Rashid roared.
“So now we know what timeframe of footage to look at.”
They scoured the footage and came up with a solid theory and even more solid evidence to back it up. The entire time that the two Qena Watchers, Hassan and Amir were stealing the codex, the Northman was walking round and round the museum, waiting for them to finish. What he was doing there was anyone’s guess because according to Rashid, he had told the other Guardsmen that he would be in Sweden on business for the two days after their night meeting in the park.
“Now we have to get ready for the meeting. Where did you ask them to meet you?”
“At a warehouse in the industrial district which belongs to the Guardsmen.”
“Excellent,” Anthony replied. “And they all confirmed that they would be coming?”
“Yes, even Hassan and Amir, who have been missing for the past week.”
“We should be ready for resistance,” Anthony said, looking directly at Chyna. “I don’t think this is going to be a smooth operation.”
Rashid reached into his desk and pulled out his Colt 45, checking it and the holstering it.
“Neither do I,” he said.
At the warehouse, Anthony placed Lana, who is known to be a crack shot, on the roof of an adjacent building as lookout and sniper. Oscar was placed in the backroom to monitor the surveillance camera and keep their wireless earpieces on full broadcast. Rashid, Chyna and Anthony waited inside for the others to arrive. Eastman, Westman and Southman all arrived early and carrying their firearms as well. The Watchers from Cairo and Luxor are also prepared for a fight. Anthony allowed a half smile to form on his lips, liking their new odds. There was no sign of the Watchers from Amarna nor Hassan and Amir and it became obvious that the four of them were in league with the Northman.
Only seconds before the clock hands were displayed one o’clock, a car pulled up outside the warehouse and the five men got out and approached the warehouse. The news traveled swiftly from Lana and the rest prepared themselves. The Northman and the four Watchers walked into the room and faced Rashid and the others.
“Where is the Book, Northman?” Rashid asked impatiently.
“It is safe from the likes of you,” Northman replied.
“I had a feeling that you would try to sabotage my decision to give it up to the Seeker but I never expected this from you. I am truly disappointed.”
“In the future, I would advise you to expect nothing but the worst from men, Rashid. That way you can never be disappointed when they do not do as you expect them to.”
“If you do not intend to turn over the Book, why have you come here?”
“To send you along your way Imhotep and induct Imhotep Ta-sherit in your place.”
“So you came to kill me?”
“Yes, Imhotep. You and all your crazy friends.”
At that Hassan raised his gun to fire at Rashid but before he could squeeze the trigger, Chyna dropped him with a single bullet to the head. They took cover behind some furniture that they had piled up towards the back of the room.
“I heard shots fired in there, is everyone alright?” Lana asked over the radio.
“We are fine, Lana,” Chyna replied. “I shot one of them.”
“I’m coming in,” she replied.
Lana burst through the door and opened fire on the four remaining gunmen, shooting each one with a single bullet. Most were superficial wounds but quite enough to take them down and keep them down; at least for a while. A quick search of their car turned up the codex which Anthony handed over to Rashid.
When the injured men had been taken away to a hospital under police escort, Rashid turned to them and said, “In all my years I have never met anyone who was as dedicated to doing what is right as you four are. I thank you very much for everything and most of all for bringing me the peace that I have wanted for most of my life.”
“It was our pleasure,” Chyna replied. “Rashid. We’re happy to have made such a good friend as well. I’ll be sure to have Dr. Nassir contact you today about the codex; I am sure that you’re more anxious than ever to have it to its rightful place.”
“You are right, Chyna,” he replied. Then he touched his hand to his forehead, bowed low from the waist and placed his hand on her feet. “May the peace of Allah be with you,” he said as he stood.
“And also with you, Rashid,” Chyna replied startled by the demonstration.
Epilogue
Chyna and the others spent the next week in Istanbul helping with the arrangements for the delivery of the Mummy Codex, as it was being called in the news, to the Ministry of Antiquities in Cairo. Rashid had passed it off publicly to Dr. Nassir as a relic that was found under the altar tile during a routine cleaning. He claimed that after a basic analysis, they realized that they could be looking at the Egyptian Book of Life and so they contacted the Ministry of Antiquities immediately.
With little more ceremony than that, the Mummy Codex was on its way back to Egypt and the team was preparing to leave for home. It had been almost a year since Chyna and Lana had been back to New York and about six months for Oscar. It was certainly time to go home.
***
Three months later
Chyna was sitting on the deck of her cabin on Cape Cod when the telephone rang. She answered and heard Sandra’s voice on the other end.
“Oh, Hi Sandra,” she said cheerily. “What’s happening?”
“I’ve couriered a package to you, Chyna,” she replied. “It’s from the Syrian government.”
“Well, I guess we have our next assignment, then?”
“I guess so, Chyna. Have a nice day.”
“Same to you, Sandra.”
Chyna drove into Barnstable about an hour later to pick up her package from the courier office; there wasn’t any door to door delivery out in her neck of the woods. She resisted the urge to tear it open right there and instead she picked up a pizza and some beer and drove back to the cabin.
“What’s that you’ve got?” Anthony asked, when she came back and put the big yellow envelope down on the table. He had been there with her for a week already and he didn’t have any plans to go anywhere else for the rest of his six week hiatus. He’d already spent a week visiting his family and friends before he had made a beeline for Cape Cod, the cabin and Chyna.
“Sandra sent it up. It’s from the Syrian government but I haven’t opened it yet. I’m a little scared to.”
“Why would you be scared, Babe?” he asked her, coming around into the kitchen to put his arms around her waist.
“It could be our next assignment and I’m not ready to leave; especially for Syria. I’m kinda over the Middle East right now; a year was enough and I need a proper break from that. I need this minute of peace that we’re having right now.”
“I know what you’re saying, Babe, but my time off is going to end at some point and then it will be me who’ll definitely be headed back to the Middle East. I wouldn’t mind if you were someplace close by when I do head back. You know? Somewhere that’s sneak-away-for-the-weekend kind of close.”
“How can you make even the worst things grow a good side?”
“It’s a gift,” he said, kissing the nape of her neck and then sucking on her earlobe. She moaned and pressed against him hungrily.
“Now come on,” he scolded. “Open it.”
Chyna groaned and sat down at the kitchen table taking up the envelope and sliding a finger beneath the flap. She pulled out the think folder and placed it on the table in front of her. She opened the letter and read it quickly.
“The Syrian government would like to retain the services of Found History to categorize and curate a very large number of relics and antiquities which were recently unearthed at an archaeological dig site near Hamah. Responsibilities include packaging and shipment of items from the site to the warehouses after testing and dating is completed. Creating and maintaining the catalogue of goods and identifying and verifying unrecognizable pieces of antiquity such as the specimen shown in picture 96a on page 132 of the folder included in the envelope.”
Chyna put down the letter and opened the folder to page 132 to look at the photograph of this unexplained item.
“Oh my goodness gracious,” she exclaimed.
Anthony came rushing over to see what had shocked her so much.
He saw the picture of what looked like a pike’s head in the shape of an eagle.
“What’s the big deal about the eagle?” he asked.
“It’s not an eagle, Babe, It’s a falcon.”
“So, what’s the deal?”
“The deal is that, based on what this relic actually is, there is no way on this green Earth it should have been found on a dig in Syria.”
“So is this your next assignment? Are you going to take it? Does that mean you’re heading back to the Middle East?”
“It looks so Tony, it really looks that way. I’m not in a hurry to leave, obviously, and there’s no real rush. The stuff’s already coming out of the ground, they can wait a few weeks for me to get there. But there’s no way I can let the chance to see this Phoenician Falcon pass me by.”
The End
Chyna Stone returns in:
The Phoenician Falcon
Return to the Table of Contents
THE PHOENICIAN FALCON
by
K.T. TOMB
A Chyna Stone Adventure #3
The Phoenician Falcon
Published by K.T. Tomb
Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb
All rights reserved.
The Phoenician Falcon
Prologue
729A.D.
Sandefjord, Norway
“It’s cold today,” Svein said.
“Perhaps,” Jarl Alaric grunted in reply.
He was in a bad mood and though he wouldn’t admit it, the drizzling rain and incessant cold was not helping his demeanor. His mind was far from considering the weather, but more upon deeper reflections. How had he arrived at the point where he now stood? His mind wandered back to the events which had taken place before they had started out on their journey, beginning with what his youngest wife had said to him the day he had left Drammen to make his way to Sandefjord.
“My Jarl,” she had said, quietly. “I have bled again this moon; I am still not with child.”
“Then you too are now counted among the barren wives of Alaric,” he shouted, pushing her away from him in disgust. Then he announced to the entire court that was gathered in his Great Hall. “I shall take no more wives; it seems that I choose only useless ones, but any woman who wishes to warm my bed from this night on only needs to reach it before I do and she will be well comforted through the night. Moreover, should any of these women become pregnant with my child then I shall take her as jarlkona of Drammen.”
His wives were so shamed by Alaric’s speech that they left the Great Hall shortly afterwards and retired to their rooms crying bitterly. Only Freda remained seated in the chair at Alaric’s left hand, quietly sewing as if she had not heard a word he had said. When the meal was finished, Alaric rose from his throne and led the men out into the square to mount their horses. She followed at a distance behind him and watched as he settled into the saddle of his great war horse. He looked directly at her as if he could see into the depths of her soul and fearing nothing, she held his stare. Her handmaiden brought her a basket of various food stuffs and she walked with her up to the Jarl’s horse. Freda dutifully took each of the items from the basket and placed them into the Jarl’s saddlebag. Each package was significant for the journey to a thing, and as a dutiful, loyal wife, she was expected to pack these items for her husband’s well being on his journey.
On his right side, she put the bag of spices: cinnamon, pepper, salt, dried mint leaves, sage and thyme. All things he could use if he were hurt; to stave off infection and dress wounds. Also on his right she placed the dried meats and fruit, the nuts, the cheese and a knife for eating. Then she walked to his left side and opened the bag. She took the gloves, woolen socks, and a small blanket from the basket and placed them inside it. With her duties finished, she stepped back silently from Alaric’s horse and stood with the crowd that had come to see him and his warriors off.
“Ride safely to Sandefjord, Husband,” she said, without looking up at him.
“Wife,” was his only reply, and then he kicked his horse and galloped from the square.
When he was out of sight and the crowd had dispersed, Freda walked back to the Great Hall and sat in her chair. She took up the shirt she had been sewing and continued with her work. Soon after, the Jarl’s younger brother, Ivor, came in surrounded by his men. He stood at the bottom of the platform and bowed low to Freda. She smiled at him and put the shirt aside, stretching out her hands to him. Ivor rose and went to her taking her hands in his and kissing them as would be customary when greeting the principal wife of the Jarl, whether she was a queen or not.
“I am taking my leave in the morning, Jarlkona,” he explained. “I am needed at the ship building in Sandvika; there is a fleet of twelve being constructed there and it is going very well.”
“That is good news, Ivor,” she replied demurely. “Are we still going boar hunting together at the full moon?”
“Helga will not hear otherwise,” he said, smiling broadly. “They will be in rut and the big boars will get careless and become easy to track. She would like to go to the woods near Nottoden.”
“That will be excellent sport,” Freda said, laughing loudly. “Travel safely to Sandvika.”
“Thank you, Jarlkona,” he said.
***
That night, when the hall was finally empty, Freda gathered up her skirts and stood from her chair.
She would normally have left Jarl Alaric to the entertaining and been in bed a long time before that hour, but in his absence, she had to host their court herself. She stretched and tidied up her sewing box before descending the platform and blowing out the candles. She paused and listened for a moment. There was complete silence; no one had fallen asleep drunk in a dark corner of the hall. All the servants had been dismissed for the night and she was certain that she had been left alone there to retire to her bed. Satisfied, that was exactly what she did. When she reached the heavy wooden door of her bedroom she could see the soft light from the candle within, but nothing else. She entered and locked the door behind her.
He had been waiting for her for a long time. When she entered, he sat up in the bed and watched her close the door. She was careful to place the heavy plank i
n place, locking it securely before she turned to face him. The candle light shone through the fabric of her dress and the shape of her legs and thighs were as plain to see as if there had been no garment there at all. She unlaced the dress and let it fall to her feet anyway. His breath caught in his throat and before he knew what he was doing he had vaulted to the end of the bed and taken her naked body in his arms. He pulled her to the bed and kissed her passionately, touching every inch of her soft body with his rugged hands. As she yielded to him and they were entwined as one, he moved inside her in a single, smooth motion.
“Ivor,” she cried softly into his ear, “my love!”
Some hours later as she lay in the arms of her husband’s brother, Freda allowed her mind to wander as well. So many things had happened and so many unexpected events had taken place. Things had gotten far from her control; from anyone’s control.
Freda, first daughter of King Ottir and a princess of Oslo had been married to Jarl Alaric for five years. Alaric had been Ottir’s closest and richest ally, and he had made an excellent match for the princess. They had been happy for a short time, but when Freda did not conceive a child, Alaric became bitter .He accused King Ottir of saddling him with a barren wife and he ridiculed Freda publicly in the Great Hall in front of his warriors and subjects.
By the third year, Freda feared for her life. It was not uncommon for a man of their culture to divorce or even kill a wife who was unable to bear him children. Of course, Alaric was too smart to do either; such actions would have brought the wrath of the King on him so he did the acceptable thing and he took a second wife. Her name was Agartha and the king was extremely fond of her. The betrayal of her husband’s second marriage and the negligence Freda suffered afterwards caused her to resort to spending as much time away from Drammen as possible. She took extensive hunting trips with her brother-in-law, Ivor and sister-in-law, Helga. The three became inseparable and Alaric didn’t seem to mind; he had worries of his own, when after a year, Agartha could not conceive either. He married Gildi next and Thyri the year after that, but none of his wives would bear any children.
