by K. T. Tomb
Chyna could see from Lana’s face that the situation with Ilea was still not resolved and when Lana looked up, she saw Chyna motioning to her to pass the phone over so she could talk to Ananda.
“Hold on a minute, Ananda. Chyna wants to speak to you.”
“Ananda,” Chyna said, “Listen, I don’t want you to do anything until we get there this afternoon. There’s at least one mole in Ilea’s office and we don’t want you to spook him. I’ve contacted FBI at the Paris embassy and they’re sending over a couple of agents to keep an eye on our suspect until we get there. Okay?”
“Sure thing, Chyna.”
“Just sit tight and we’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Thank you.”
Chyna hung up the phone and looked at her team. After a moment, she laughed and shook her head.
“Why is it that every assignment we take ends up turning into two…or three?” she asked, rhetorically.
Her four companions couldn’t help but laugh as well.
Chapter Four
On the afternoon of Hammurabi’s return to Babylon, the entire city came out to greet the king and queen and their triumphant army of men. They’d had an extremely successful campaign in Assyria; crushing the country’s administrative powers and destroying the capital city, leaving it in complete ruin.
As they approached the city, the citizens saw that the king’s horse was pulling something behind it by a long rope. As they came closer, there was a loud cheer from the walls of the city as the people realized what the heavy object was. It was the center stone from the main gate archway of Nineveh. Dragging that stone back to Babylon indicated that the king had completely devastated Nineveh and that it would never be rebuilt without his permission. When he gave that permission he would return the center stone to the assigned builders.
The queen also brought her spoils back to Babylon in the form of Ishme-Dagan’s palace slaves. Behind her horse there walked two lines of them; one line of males and another of females. The crowd shouted deafeningly as their rulers rode through the city gates and up to the steps of their royal palace. There would be no early rest for them that night; instead there would be much feasting and celebration for their return.
They climbed the steps hand in hand and took their seats on the curule chairs that had been elegantly placed on the top step. The makeshift dais was elaborately decorated with tiger skins and colorful rugs. Flowers and beautiful plants had been brought down from the royal gardens by the dozens in an effort to transform the area into a sort of forest around the king and queen.
Astounded, they took their seats and watched as the crowd below publicly stripped the Assyrian slaves, washed them and dressed them in Babylonian palace livery. When the food began to come out for the feast, they were made to serve it to everyone who was present from the highborn citizens to the lowest common man who was gathered in the crowd. After everyone had received bread and dried fruits, the people broke into various groups based on class and clique to wait for the rest of the feast food to be presented.
The concubines of Hammurabi’s court were also out for the festivities. They stood to the far side of the top step in a group and watched the proceedings in relative silence, only clapping their hands occasionally when something amused them. All except Kashira, of course. She had begun wailing the moment she had laid her eyes on the Stone of Nineveh and still cried unrelentingly. She cried because she knew her father was dead and if the stone was here in Babylon then it was true that the city had been destroyed as well.
Just then dancers emerged and began to perform for the court. They were exquisite beauties; fit and lithe from years of conditioning and practice. They wore sheer gauze tunics in red and yellow and blue. On their heads they wore the elaborate wigs that performers were known for and a wonderful array of jewelry about their neck, wrists and ankles. Bells tinkled from their bracelets and anklets with every move they made. When the dance was finished the crowd cheered loudly but none so loudly as Ishtari. She was particularly fond of dance performances and the troupe had pleased her immensely. She stood from her chair and trays of dried honeyed dates were brought for her to throw to the dancers by the handful. She threw tray after tray until finally satisfied, she returned to her seat. The dancers kneeled and gathered the sweet treats by the handful into the skirts of their sheer dresses.
It was at that point that Kashira lost what little composure she had managed to retain. Unable to bear her grief any longer, she threw herself at Hammurabi’s feet, crying hysterically. But instead of comforting her, he grew enraged at her feeble effort to manipulate his emotions. Frustrated and angry and still disappointed at her initial treachery of rallying her father’s forces against him, he confronted her.
“Kashira, it is not true that you do not feel that you are here in Babylon to serve the pleasure of my queen as much as to serve my own?” he asked, accusingly.
“Yes, Master. It is true. She is only a woman and I am your concubine. It is your pleasure that I administer, not hers. Yet she poisons me and is not admonished for it. Is she your equal, Master?”
Kashira stood up, emboldened by her insolent remarks and flashed chastising looks at both the king and queen.
“Kashira, what you speak is hatred for your queen and hatred for your queen is treason. It is law that I must give you the opportunity to recant such careless statements for it is common knowledge that as people we say things in error, especially when we are not thinking clearly. So, will you recant your statement or make it stand firm?”
“I will not recant!” she shouted at him and turned to Ishtari, hurling insult after insult at the queen while crying hysterically.
Suddenly fed up with her nonsense, Ishtari stood up from her chair and kicked Kashira in the stomach throwing her from the top step. The entire crowd watched silently as her body rolled and bounced all the way to the bottom of the steps where her head struck the Stone of Nineveh, breaking her neck. As the crowd had watched Kashira’s body rolling to the street, Ishtari had begun to descend the stairway. At the bottom, she stood over Kashira’s body looking into the dead girl’s face. Then, she stepped into the pool of blood that was flowing from Kashira’s head and stepped on the girl’s face with her bloody sandal. The crowd gasped, then began cheering loudly again. She had stepped on the concubine with the sole of her shoe; the greatest form of disrespect that anyone could show another person.
Satisfied, Ishtari turned and sauntered back up the stairs. When she reached the top step, she kneeled before Hammurabi to offer her apologies for ruining his property without his permission. She touched the palms of both her hands to his feet and lifted them to her forehead. He in return touched the top of her head in acceptance. She flashed a stern look in the direction of the other concubines as she resumed her seat beside her husband; may they take heed and be warned, no concubine would ever receive precedence over her as long as Babylon stood or she continued to draw breath.
A few weeks later the temple was ready to be dedicated. The altar idols had been carefully prepared according to Hammurabi’s strict instructions but he had not been allowed to oversee their production. In Babylon, the carving and painting of the images of divine entities was stringently reserved for the members of the priesthood. Still, the king hardly had a doubt that the temple would look exactly as he had envisioned it. When he had returned from Nineveh, he brought a caravan of stone, marble and hematite to add to the construction materials for the temple complex, but now that it was complete he was anxious about how it would look.
A particular item of concern was the last minute addition he had made to the diorama. The priests had been stunned to silence when he had told them of the inclusion but as he described what his vision for the display as a whole was, they were intrigued by the idea.
When Hammurabi led Ishtari into the temple for the first time, they were both speechless. It was easy to say that there had never been such an altar constructed in all of Babylonia.
There were two great id
ols facing each other; one of the goddess Ishtar who was created to bear a fair resemblance to Ishtari herself, and there was Ninurta, who was undoubtedly fashioned from the image of Hammurabi. Ninurta stood tall with his four wings spread wide about his shoulders and torso. Both his hands were raised high in attack and in both he carried the pronged fork of the War God. His feet were astride; set in a fearsome and powerful stance as he fought a large monster that sought to swallow the kingdom of Babylon.
The real spectacle, however, was the goddess Ishtar. She stood boldly, which was not a common stance for her image to be presented in. She was usually pictured seated. Her legs were astride, like a man’s, symbolizing strength and firmness. Both arms were outstretched in praise and support of Ninurta in his efforts to slay the beast. Beneath the sandal on her left foot is the statue of a large black basilisk which is being subdued and defeated as she crushes it.
The entire scene at the new altar is glorious and they step back to admire it in its totality.
“What a glory to the gods you have created, husband,” Ishtari said in astonishment. “You have truly captured their incomparable strength and beauty.”
“Ishtari, you never cease to amaze me,” Hammurabi said, laughing. “When you should see things for the sheer vanity that they are, you instead see the divine and are ready to walk straight into the fields of heaven. This altar is dedicated to us as much as it is to Ninurta and Ishtar. This is the defeat of the creatures that seek to destroy the good in the world, but it is also telling of how we destroyed the evil that was Assyria.
***
When they landed at Charles de Gaulle airport, Chyna felt drained. She was happy to have her friend back safely and the other hostages out of harm’s way, but she was frustrated; on and on the assignment seemed to drag and just as she felt she was beginning to understand what was happening around her, the entire ball game seemed to change.
Her cell phone rang almost as soon as the she had exited the aircraft. It was Nigel and he sounded distressed.
“Hey Boss, how are things going?” he asked quickly.
“We just landed in Paris. There’s no telling yet, Nigel. What’s up?”
“Well since I found Lana’s uploads on the server, I’ve been keeping an eye out for any newly added data from all our field personnel and searching all server level for information that might prove important to the case.”
“Yes?” Chyna said, impatiently.
“I noticed that your secure line had new voicemail recordings and I decided to pull the call details. You have three calls that originated from an unknown Paris number and all three were recorded the evening of Director Le Gal’s disappearance.”
“Ilea is one of the very few people who have that number.”
“That’s what I realized when I cross referenced your number against the company security disclosure list. Do you have the phone with you?”
“Of course I do, Nigel.”
“Then I’d suggest you check those messages before you get to Place de Fontenoy.”
“I agree. Thank you, Nigel and keep up the good work.”
“Thank you, Boss.”
Chyna ended the call and slid the phone back into her jacket pocket before she turned to Oscar.
“Could you hand me the encrypted phone, Oscar? I put it in your tech bag for safe keeping.”
“Sure thing.”
He stopped to swing the bag around and took the sturdy Blackberry® Bold from the bag, handing it to Chyna. She turned it on and dialed the number to retrieve her voicemail. As soon as the message started she knew that Nigel had been right. Ilea’s tense voice came over the speaker to Chyna’s ear as clear as a bell.
She was obviously frightened and distressed as she said frantically into the phone:
“Chyna…This is Ilea. I just found a trace has been placed on my email account and for the last few days every email I have responded to has been blind copied to Petrovik’s I.P. address. I don’t know why he would be spying on me but I have a feeling it has to do with our missing people. If anything else comes to me or anything new develops on my end, I’ll let you know. If you have made any headway in Iraq, do give me a call.”
There was a beep signaling the end of the recording and Chyna took the phone from her ear. She looked at the screen questioningly for a minute. What was going on here? She pressed the button to move to the next message and returned it to her ear, listening again.
“Hi Chyna, I really hope you’re getting my messages. I’m beginning to get very worried. I just walked past Moira’s desk…that’s our office intern…and noticed a new tablet on it. It’s exactly like the type we executives receive for our meetings and I wondered what she was doing with mine, so I picked it up and brought it into my office. As soon as I swiped to wake it up, I realized it wasn’t mine and would have returned it to her desk but the screen opened to an email account and I read one of the emails she had just been sending out. I’m so scared, Chyna. She was issuing instructions to someone to move both ‘packages’ to a set of coordinates because the ‘Boss’ had sent ‘Ghosts’ to retrieve them and that it was suspected that the ‘Ghosts’ had a fixed location on a ‘Casper’ that was with the ‘Euro package’. They should shake the ‘Casper’ down and find her tail.
“I think she meant that they should move the hostages to another location and find out what Lana had on her which was allowing us to track her because you and your team were on the way to Baghdad. I really don’t like this, Chyna. I’m going to get out of the office as soon as I can and go home but before I do, I’ll give Morris a call and have him send a few guys over to keep an eye on me and the house. Take care.”
Well, it seemed that Ilea’s mistake had put her in the know about what had been taking place in Iraq but she had also just implicated both Petrovik and the intern, Moira. Aziz had readily given up Petrovik during his interrogation but he had never mentioned the intern. Did he hide that from us? Or was it that he didn’t know Petrovik had a partner in the office? Could it be that Moira found out about what he was doing and managed to insert herself into the deal?
Chyna sighed and signaled to the others to go ahead of her in the line to immigration while Demetri and Thorin held firm at the rear. She pressed the button again to go the third and final message and this where Chyna got her mind completely blown.
“I’ve just been caught by Moira with the tablet on my desk. I managed to avoid explaining how I had it in my possession and curiously, she didn’t even ask about it. She just freshened up my coffee, took the device and left. I just spoke to Morris and he said that he would send a couple of guys to wait downstairs for me. They’d follow me home and watch the house for the night.”
“I’m so sleepy…must have worn myself out today trying to avoid any of this leaking to the press before I absolutely…have to…” She yawned deeply and her words began to slur. “Ch-Chyna? Something’s wrong…I don’t feel…”
The call went dead in Chyna’s ear.
What the hell? she thought, close to panicking.
Demetri touched her on her shoulder, causing Chyna to look up. She was next in line and was being beckoned to the desk by an impatient immigration officer.
“Business or pleasure, ma’am?” he asked mechanically in a thick French accent.
“Business,” she replied.
“Papers, please.”
Chyna took out the diplomatic contract and invitation letter as well as the firearms permit and handed them to the man.
He pretended to read them and handed them back to her, picking up her passport from the desk and flipping through it for a moment. She wondered what he was looking for, since her passport was American and there were no restrictions for Americans entering France. A few moments later, he stamped the passport, handed it back to her and waved her through.
They tumbled into the little shuttle bus that would take then to the rental car lot just outside the airport and it was obvious that Chyna was disgruntled.
“What’s
up, Boss?” Oscar asked curiously.
She didn’t answer him at all and he let it slide.
When they were safely ensconced in the Land Rover they’d rented, Chyna looked in the rear view mirror at the rest of her team and finally she spoke to them.
“I just listened to three messages that Ilea left for me just before she was abducted.”
There was hushed murmuring from everyone.
“It seems that the intern, Moira got herself mixed in with Petrovik’s plan and drugged Ilea when she thought she had found her out. The intern had been sending emails to Aziz instructing him on what to do.”
“Oh, dear,” Sirita said, “That’s no good.”
“Not at all,” Chyna agreed. “We’re going to have to move on Petrovik ourselves and we have to do it before anyone knows we’re in Paris.”
It was obvious from the determined look on her face that Chyna had spent the past hour since they had passed through immigration thinking up her plan. Now, she was ready to issue their orders.
“Demetri, Thorin; I need you to arrange for the weapons. We don’t have the FBI or the military to stock us out this time. I know you have people in the city that will be more than happy to help us out; rented and legal is preferable.”
Both men nodded appreciatively and smiled.
“Oscar, I’m going to need an address and schematics for his house. We need to know what we’re doing before we even think about doing it. Locate the breaker too. I want to go in under darkness and we have to be prepared in case things get hot in there.”
“Already on it, Boss,” he replied as he flipped open his laptop.
“Lana and Sirita, you two have to get on your phones and get us into an embassy or consulate or safe house or whatever right away. There’s no way we can check into a hotel without the risk of being detected, unless one of you knows a really, really secure one.”
