Margo had a preference for hiring her newly adopted spiritual kinsmen, especially the handsome ones who weren’t squeamish about her flirtatious advances.
The other driver, Jalal al Din, ‘glory of the faith,’ was also Arab, but he hailed from Egypt. Abdul and Jalal were friends who met through their work with a Muslim Brotherhood front group in England. Abdul was to graduate at the end of the year, but when the opportunity came up for a backdoor invitation to the Alexander Rosso summit where so many distinguished people would be gathered, he decided—or rather, his handlers decided—that ‘graduation’ would come early for Abdul, “Insha’Allah.”
Abdul Raqib and Jalal al Din were terrorists.
Cyrus and Gideon had posed as policemen, and pulled over the two vans in a phony police car that Gideon had arranged. It was Cyrus who figured out who Abdul Raqib and Jalal al Din were, after having asked to see their driver’s licenses. Through his six degrees of separation, as well as having the entire records of both Interpol and the NSA in his head, he was able to make the two men immediately. He informed Gideon of who they had stumbled upon, and they quickly subdued the would-be mass murderers, knocking them out and sticking bags over their heads.
Gideon searched the vehicles and discovered stuck under the vans enough high-grade explosives to have turned half of Alexander Rosso’s estate into a smoking ruin. Cyrus had prevented a horrible catastrophe. Gideon, of course, was stunned that Cyrus knew who the two Arabs were by simply glancing at their licenses.
Once at the safe house, Gideon had his two ex-special forces pals run their names, and sure enough, they were who Cyrus said they were. Cyrus defused the bombs, further mystifying Gideon, and they left the bad-luck terrorists with the two agents. Gideon insisted that the agents take all the credit, and told them that how it all went down was up to them to manufacture. He told them to hold the men for at least twenty-four hours before they reported their capture to anyone—if reporting them to the ‘proper authorities’ at all was what they should decide to do.
Leaving the safe house and returning to the vans for the trip to the caterer where Malkah was waiting, Gideon had to ask the obvious. “So, how the hell did you do it?”
“I just happen to know a thing or two about dismantling bombs.”
“Not that. Okay, that too. The terrorists. How did you make them?”
Cyrus shrugged. “Profiling, don’t you know?”
“Bullcrap. Besides,” Gideon smirked, “profiling is illegal.”
“Hey, can’t a guy have a gut feeling anymore without being interrogated?”
“Yeah, right. You knew exactly who they were down to the smallest detail. How the hell is that possible?”
“With God, everything is possible.”
“God had nothing to do with that, Cyrus, and you know it.”
“Really? So we just happen to be the guys to pull over the only bomb-laden vans in town today? The only two guys who could have stopped them? Some coincidence. And consider, we almost decided not to go on this crazy mission of yours. If we hadn’t, a lot of innocent people would have died.”
“And a lot of not-so-innocent people too,” Gideon said. “Including maybe Rosso himself, which would have saved us the trouble, and possibly our own idiotic lives.”
“Fate then?”
“Fate,” Gideon repeated as they walked up to their vans. “Dude, it’s too early in the morning for theology.” He got into his van and rolled down the window. “And don’t think for a second that I didn’t notice that you evaded my question.”
Cyrus got into the van he had commandeered. “What question?”
“Smartass,” Gideon said. “All right, Andretti, we have to lead-foot it over to Malkah’s or we are going to be conspicuously late. Ready to show me some of those race car skills you boasted about?”
Cyrus answered by gunning the van’s engine, and then screeching away. Gideon pulled out onto the street after him.
“That guy is starting to freak me out.”
15
Of Good Courage
Earlier…
“HaShem, we beg You!” Sett extolled, his arms reaching towards Heaven, reciting an ancient prayer for help and protection. “With the strength of the greatness of Your right hand, untie the bundled sins. Accept the prayer of Your angels. Strengthen us. Purify us. Like the pupil of an eye, guard us. To Your angels turn, and hear our cry. Blessed is the Name of His glorious kingdom for ever and ever!”
And we all shouted, “Amen!”
Sett, his countenance still glowing from the abundance of spiritual energy he had tapped into, turned to Volk. “I should have been born a couple of eons ago,” he said.
“Maybe you were,” Volk rejoined, slapping Sett on the back. “Kohai, what’s the word on Grace?”
“She’s scared, Sir, but she is trying not to show it.”
“She has good reason to be scared. And the young one, Hera?”
“She’s tougher than she appears,” Virgil said. “Really smart too. A fast learner.”
“Virgil gave her a crash course in emuna, self-defense, and whirling,” I explained.
Volk grinned. “You did, did you?”
Virgil blushed. “Yes, Sir. … Strictly business, Sir.”
“Did I suggest otherwise, Cadet?” Volk said, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Um…er…no, Sir.”
“And the clock tower?”
“All ready, Sir,” I said. “Sergeant Major Balius and I took care of it early this morning. We showed Grace what to do.”
“And no one saw you?”
The red-bearded Balius stepped forward. “Definitely not, Captain. Typhon, Ares, and Troy stood sentinel. No one saw a thing.”
“Good work, then,” Volk said. He faced the rest of the recruits. “Any last questions? Once we leave here, everything is strictly Academy style. You are to behave exactly as is expected from an Academy cupid.” He turned to Sett and Abishai. “Commander, Captain, any last instructions?”
Captain Abishai addressed the recruits, “Remember, once we’re down there, no one is to make a move before the last Anteros soldier has been disgronified. Those soldiers are bound to be among Anteros’s top commandos, so the fewer of them down there with us, the better the odds that we might get the drop on them.”
“Yes, Sir,” we all shouted.
“Kohai, Virgil,” Abishai added, “sorry to say, but this also means that you two will have your hands full back up here. May HaShem be with you.”
“Amen, Sir,” Virgil said.
Sett stepped forward and placed a hand on each of our heads. He blessed us. Then, addressing us all before we set off on our great mission, Sett charged us with these final words:
“As Joshua said to the Israelites, ‘Do not be afraid, nor be dismayed. Be strong and of good courage, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. He will not fail you, nor forsake you. You shall tread down the wicked; for they will be ashes under the soles of your feet in the day that I make, says the Lord of Hosts!’”
“Amen!”
Sett turned and walked resolutely away and disappeared around a corner.
“All right,” Volk said. “This is it. We’re ready. We spin out of here in forty-five minutes and set down in the woods behind the disgronifying station. Immediately afterwards, we will proceed to the front entrance of the building to meet and greet the judges and their retinue. Commander Sett and I have one last matter to attend to.
“While we are away, I suggest that you use these last minutes well. Spend them in hitbodedút, free and open conversation with HaShem. You’ve said your prayers, recited your psalms, and now each of you, alone, walk into the woods, go to your Maker, and open your mind and heart to Him. Speak to Him as you would your best friend, for He is compassionate and desires your heart even more than your prayers.”
Sett returned with two duffel bags hoisted upon his broad shoulders. He dropped the bags with a clang at Volk’s feet and the two exchanged nods.
> “One last thing,” Volk said. “I must warn you that because you have spent the past week at a very high spiritual level, the Academy, your fellow cupids and the judges, they are going to appear strangely foreign to you. The scales have fallen from your eyes. The glory of HaShem has entered your hearts. Your previous lives, your previous friends, your previous world is gone forever. Your souls have been stretched to a new dimension and cannot return to their original boundaries.
“Do not reveal your dismay. We will give them the show of dignity and respect that they are expecting. No wisecracking, no smirks. Keep whatever astonishment you might feel to yourselves. Both the cupids and Anteros think they are god-like, and for a few more hours we will let them continue in their delusion.”
With that, Sett and Volk strapped the duffel bags to their sides and whirled off together down to Earth.
As planned beforehand, Captain Volk had been waiting for Cyrus and Gideon at the safe house where Gideon had arranged to stash the van drivers. When Cyrus drove up and parked, Volk greeted him as Cyrus dragged an unconscious Abdul Raqib from the van and heaved the limp, would-be terrorist over his shoulder. The man’s head was covered with a burlap bag. The captains updated one another, communicating in thought mode.
“We don’t have much time,” Volk said. “Our little entourage is due to disgronify down shortly, and I can see you got your hands full as well.”
“Everything set on your end?” Cyrus asked.
“Considering how little time we had, the recruits exceeded my expectations. But, five days is hardly enough time to prepare them for the greeting that I think will be awaiting us.”
“Sett?” Cyrus inquired.
“You just missed him. I sent him ahead to Rosso’s to case the entrance to the estate.” Volk chuckled. “You’d get a kick out of the guy, C. Once the revelation of who he truly is finally sank in, he really ran with it. The guy is a new man…or angel, rather.”
“Praying and everything?” Cyrus said, still incredulous.
“Oh, yeah. Sett has become a praying machine. One reading of the holy books was all it took for him to achieve total recall, and for all those teachings to come spilling from his lips. He loves quoting the prophets in particular. It’s pretty hilarious, coming from Sett and all.”
“How about Kohai and Virgil?”
“You’d be proud of them, C. They really came into their own during the past week. You were right about Kohai, even though I had had my doubts. He’s the real deal, and if we survive the day, he has a great future. Virgil too. The both of them. Our teachers would have found them very worthy.”
Cyrus smiled proudly. “Good.”
“What’s with the two drivers? They put up a struggle?”
“Not exactly,” Cyrus said, re-situating the flaccid terrorist on his shoulder with a shrug. “This is Abdul Raqib. Turns out he and his pal are terrorists who were going to use the vans as truck bombs and blow Rosso’s mansion estate to kingdom come.”
“Interesting,” Volk said. “I can’t pretend to fathom the workings of HaShem, but it seems that all the pieces that we have been struggling to fit together are linking up fast. Without you down here, C, there is no telling what disasters would have manifested.”
“We are very far from success. A thousand different things could still, and probably will, go wrong. We have to be extremely vigilant.” Cyrus glanced over at Gideon, who was giving him an impatient look. “Gotta go. I’ve left the back of the van open.”
“Good. I’ll stash the bags on the top racks of the van. Once you make it into the estate we need you to park as close to the gazebo on the ground’s grassy common as you can. That’s where the signing ceremony will be held. And don’t forget to leave the back of the van open enough for me to get in there. The signing is set for eleven o’clock.”
“It’s going to be tough,” Cyrus said. “The kitchens are on the other side of Rosso’s estate. Most importantly, security is going to be very heavy, and so we’re going to need your help getting in.”
“Understood,” Volk said. “Sett and I will do what we can. Without those weapons, C, we’re goners.”
“You get us in and I’ll make sure they’ll be there,” Cyrus said. He glanced again towards Gideon, whose impatience was turning to anger. “Gotta go. May HaShem bless you and look after you.”
“You too, buddy.”
16
Monster Mash
As feared, when Gideon and Cyrus rolled up to the gates of the Rosso estate, four guards—two men in suits and sunglasses, and two women, also in suits and sunglasses—were there to greet them.
The guards were cordial but stern. They asked the van drivers to please step out, open the backs of the vehicles, and show their identification. The paperwork had been handled by the caterer, which Malkah had passed on to them. Cyrus, who had no ID twenty-four hours ago, showed the guard a fake driver’s license that he made using the experiential expertise he had gained from a combination of professional forgers and CIA experts from the six degrees of separation.
Gideon and Cyrus did as asked, and as they were patted down and a handheld metal detector was passed over their bodies, two of the guards entered the backs of the vans to start their security check. Under the front seats were Gideon and Cyrus’s stashed weapons: Gideon’s in a small duffel bag, and Cyrus’s in his folded duster trench coat.
This was the part of the plan that Gideon feared the most. He had left the situation entirely up to Cyrus, and was going on nothing but pure faith that Cyrus knew what he was doing.
“Worst plan ever,” he muttered to Cyrus.
When the guards, one a man, the other a woman, finished their search of the backs of the vans, they exited and walked over to the fronts. The duffel bags that Volk had stashed in the back of Cyrus’s van were, of course, invisible and undetectable to the security team. The guards next opened the drivers’ doors and bent inside to have a look around.
Gideon swallowed hard. He could already feel the adrenaline beginning to course through his body…
“Quick, Volk, what do we got?” Sett said.
Volk walked over to each guard and passed his hand over his or her head, revealing each one’s prime yetzers.
One male guard hid a red-eyed, gorilla-armed Shallow Yetzer. It’s blubbery haunches and row of six sharp bony spikes down its back flexed with each heaving breath it took. The other man concealed a pus-faced, clawed, spindle-legged Commitment Yetzer. It had big, black pupils the shape of an hour class, and the beaklike jaws of an octopus.
The female guards, one a redhead, the other a blond, were packing a frog-faced, needle-toothed Victim Yetzer, and a black-tongued, three-eyed and slobbering Grass-is-greener Yetzer, respectively. The tongue of a Grass-is-greener Yetzer is exceptionally long and sticky. Any contact with it was enough for the monster to reel you into its powerful jaws.
Volk, who had spied out the situation earlier and consulted the Midrashic Records of every guard he thought they might encounter, returned to Sett’s side.
“The guy guard with the Shallow Yetzer and the blond lady with the Grass-is-greener Yetzer have a history,” he said. “They dated for a couple of months, but she dumped him for a soccer player, who she dumped for a hedge fund manager, who she dumped for a radio shock jock, who dumped her. Shallow Yetzer guard never got over her, and she knows it. The blond also suspects that the guard with the black mustache and Commitment Yetzer has the hots for the redheaded woman. What the blond gal doesn’t know is that the redhead swings both ways, and actually has a thing for her.”
“Complicated,” Sett remarked. He unholstered a handheld pulsar passionator gun. “But who gives a damn who is better off with who? We just need to mix ‘em up a little. I’ll take mustache man and red, you dope and smoke the other two.”
Volk nodded and withdrew an arrow from the quiver behind his back. The tip was laced with a heavy dose of lust elixir. They both fired.
Immediately the humans’ respective yetzers leaped from
their hosts in a rage.
“Whoa,” Sett said. “We got some heavy-duty sexual tension going on here.”
The two guards with their heads inside the vans suddenly stopped their searching. They backed out of the vans and faced the other guards, agitated looks on their faces.
Gideon slid Cyrus a quizzical eye. Cyrus replied with a wry smile.
The yetzers growled and foamed at the mouth. They didn’t like being compromised one bit. At first they threatened one another, and then they realized that the two strangers standing off to the side were playing them.
“Come on you maggot-faced pukes,” Sett shouted. “Let’s see what you got.”
Volk distanced himself from Sett to give them both some fighting space. “They got a lot, Sett, so watch your ass.”
The beasts charged. The women’s yetzers rushed at Sett, and the men’s at Volk.
Sett pulled out his pearl-handled demon duster and emptied it into the two yetzers. It slowed them down, but they kept coming.
“Son of a bitch,” Sett said. “Those are some pissed-off yetzers.”
He reached behind and unsheathed a ruby-edged Zweihänder long sword. The speedy Victim Yetzer pounced at him from ten yards away. Sett dropped to one knee and held the sword like a pike, spearing the yetzer through its belly, and straight into its heart. The creature screeched as its eyes bulged and brown guts slid down the sword’s edge.
Sett dropped the skewered monster and dove away just as the Grass-is-greener Yetzer unraveled its gooey tongue at him. Sett came out of his roll with a Scythian battle-axe in his hand. The head of the axe was a chunk of razor-sharp obsidian. The yetzer let out an ear-splitting whinny and shot his tongue at him again. Sett spun and whacked off the black, fleshy appendage with his axe. The chunk of tongue flopped and squirmed on the ground like a beached eel. A foul, green spray shot from the yetzer’s mouth.
Shooting Eros - The Emuna Chronicles: Complete Boxset: Books 1 - 3 Page 71
