Night had fallen like a veil, the darkness heavy with dregs of a rain. Amber lights on poles glowed through the haze. We drove around to the rear of the winery building. In the distance we saw a gate in the chain link fence surrounding the kibbutz. The gate was closing, apparently controlled electronically, behind a pickup truck that drove off into the compound.
“That was probably the vineyard super,” Jarvis said. “Too bad we couldn’t have ridden in on his coattails.”
I pointed at a box on the left side of the barrier. “Pull up at the gate and let me check the controls.”
I got out and walked over to the white metal box mounted on a post about five feet high. Judging from the small window facing the road, the gate was activated by an infrared signal. I checked the mechanism that pulled the whole thing back on a wheeled track. It looked new with no way to force it open. Then I saw a piece of heavy chain on the ground that likely was used to secure the gate before it was upgraded.
I hurried over to Jarvis’ Jeep. “Remember hearing the super say he’d be back for the other guy?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Drive back a short distance, as out of the way as you can get, and park. I found a piece of chain over there. I’ll try using it to lock the gate open when he comes back out. As soon as he parks his truck, drive through and I’ll release the gate.”
As Jarvis turned around and headed back toward the edge of the winery, I laid the chain where I could quickly shove it through the retracted gate. Then I huddled behind an old oil drum. The only light was on a pole inside the compound. It wouldn’t reach me.
After an interminable wait, I checked my backlit watch. Barely ten minutes had passed. I checked it again and tried to stretch my legs to keep them from cramping. Then headlights appeared in the road. I crouched as the gate mechanism rumbled and began to pull the barrier back.
As soon as the headlights moved past me, I dashed over and crammed the chain through the steel bars in the gate. It was long enough to wrap twice around the end post. Then I yanked it in a partial knot.
The motor tugged against it. When the gate failed to move, the noise stopped. I looked back toward the winery building. The truck pulled in and its lights went out. Moments later, Colonel Jarvis’ Jeep lights came on and he sped up to the gate, stopping just inside. I pulled the chain loose and the motor restarted. Evidently it had an override mechanism to prevent the motor from overheating.
I jumped in the Jeep and Jarvis started down the gravel road, which was much the worse for wear, with serious rutting in places. He drove up the hill past a few buildings. Jake pointed out one he believed to be the dining hall. The only vehicles we saw were three cars parked in front of what must have been the main administration building.
“Members don’t own cars,” Jake explained. “The kibbutz provides them with whatever they need in the way of food, clothing, shelter and transportation. They get few luxuries. You’ll notice this is the only road around. They have pathways connecting the houses and the other buildings.”
“I wonder who owns those cars?” Jarvis asked as we passed the main building.
“I’d guess one belongs to Moshe Levin.”
“Let’s hope he stays here for a while.”
We reached the top of the hill where the road curved around the shadowy grape arbors. We drove along in a blackout until a small light suddenly appeared ahead. It got brighter as we approached. Then we saw it was attached to a long, tin-roofed shed where farm machinery was parked, including tractors, wagons and plows. A short distance beyond stood a small concrete-block house, completely dark. It would have appeared abandoned but for a white golf cart parked near the front door.
I got the little Jetfire out of my pocket and pulled the hammer back to full cock.
“This is it,” I said, almost in a whisper. “There’s the warning sign beside it.”
Large red letters spelled out DANGER in English, and Jake confirmed the Hebrew characters said the same.
The only other things visible in the area were a few cannonball-shaped flare pots down the road. They marked a small excavation. They looked like the old smudge pots I remembered marking roadway construction back in the days before battery lanterns came into use. The flames flickered against the night. Shadows danced.
Jarvis switched off his lights and pulled in beside the golf cart. “I don’t see any signs of life,” he said. “Of course, they could black out the windows. You have a plan?”
I had been puzzling about what to do as we drew near. The woman who cut Jill off on the cell phone was most likely her jailer. But would there be others? I thought it unlikely since they were apparently keeping her docile with drugs. No doubt Levin would be coming after her soon for the trip to Caesarea. I hoped we would be out of here by then.
“Jake, you stay out here as a lookout,” I said. “Give a short toot on the horn if you see anybody coming.”
I outlined the plan.
We moved up to the front door, where I gave it a few loud knocks. I felt myself holding my breath.
Finally, a female voice from inside called out in Hebrew. Jarvis quickly shouted back.
“She asked who we were,” he whispered. “I said Moshe sent us for the woman.”
The voice from inside called out again, and Jarvis replied, then translated: “She said she thought he was coming. I told her he changed his mind.”
A key rattled in the lock, then the door cracked open. Immediately I lunged with my shoulder, slamming my full weight against it. The door gave way with the sound of a falling body and a scream of profanity from inside. Jarvis burst through, holding his gun in a threatening stance.
“Don’t move!” he shouted.
A gun lay on the floor where she had dropped it. Jarvis kicked it aside, and I quickly snatched it up. I thumbed on the safety of the colonel’s Jetfire and pocketed it. The woman picked herself up. Her look was murderous.
I brandished what I now saw was a .40 caliber Heckler & Koch. “Where is she?” I demanded.
“Who are you?” the woman said in English. She had an accent that sounded East European, or maybe Russian. She was a young woman, probably early thirties, dressed in an old pair of army fatigues. She had an attractive face with soft brown hair but eyes like a lynx. If she wasn’t ex-commando, I’d be surprised.
“Greg McKenzie,” I said. “And I want my wife–now!”
We were in what had been a living room but it now housed boxes and crates and hand tools. A hallway led off it with two closed doors visible.
I lowered the H&K and started toward the back. “Keep an eye on her, Colonel. I’m going to look for Jill.”
The first task on entering an unknown location is to make certain there are no further threats. With the pistol ready I tried the first door, found it unlocked, pushed it open and jumped inside. A small table lamp showed the room was unoccupied. It contained a metal cot and a small table.
I moved to the second door and turned the knob. It was locked. I leaned into it and called out, “Jill?”
When I heard her cry I had to hold back from shooting open the door. I turned to Jarvis and the woman. “Where is the key?”
“The key,” Jarvis said, tapping his Beretta against her jaw.
She pulled the key from a chain around her neck and threw it on the floor. I retrieved it quickly and shoved it into the lock.
Jill wore no makeup. Her eyes were bleary. Her hair was tousled. She had on a plain pink dress several sizes too large. She was the loveliest sight I had seen in four days. I threw my arms around her and held her tight, shocked at the way she trembled. And then I understood. She was afraid I wasn’t there, some cruel joke the drugs were playing on her.
I smiled through my own tears. “It’s me, babe,” I said. “I’m here. We’re going home.”
She buried her face against my shoulder. “I thought you’d never come. I was afraid they had done something to you.”
She had lost some weight. No doubt she hadn’t eaten m
uch.
“You’ve been dieting again,” I said.
She managed a smile, then collapsed in my arms. I helped her sit down on the side of the bed. “Don’t go anywhere,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
I went out to where Jarvis and the commando woman were engaged in a staring match.
“Let’s tie her up and get out of here,” I said.
I looked around for something to do the job and found a roll of duct tape among the tools and supplies. We trussed her up, stuffed her mouth with tissue, and taped it shut. We carried her to the bed in the room next to Jill.
Jarvis gave Jill an agonized look. “Are you all right, Mrs. McKenzie?”
She was fighting her way back, composing herself. “I’m all right.”
I grinned. “Jill McKenzie, meet Colonel Warren Jarvis. He’s the Air Attaché in Tel Aviv.”
Her face went blank. “Tel Aviv?”
“You’re in Israel. But you’re safe now.”
That was when Jake Cohen gave a warning blast on the Jeep’s horn.
Chapter 40
Jill was in no shape to be on her feet for long. She was groggy from drugs and weakened from lack of food. I looked around at Jarvis. “See if there’s an outside door back here.”
He disappeared for a moment. “It’s right here. Follow me.”
I put my arm around Jill to steady her and headed for the doorway. Stepping outside was almost like walking into a cave, the night was so black. Humid air made the chill more penetrating. I realized Jill must be freezing with nothing but that long pink dress to protect her. I pulled off my jacket, threw it around her shoulders, and coaxed her down the two steps to the ground. She was terribly shaky.
As we moved toward the corner of the house, I heard the grate of car tires on gravel out front followed by the slamming of doors. When we reached the side of the house, we found it lit faintly by the light on the tractor shed. A figure suddenly appeared and Jarvis swung his pistol toward it.
“It’s me,” Jake called out in a muted but frantic voice.
“What happened?” I asked.
“There were three of them.” He spoke in a whisper as he reached us. “Two went inside and the other one stayed at the car. I slipped out as they drove up. Kept in the shadows. I don’t think they saw me.”
That meant we had to take out the man standing watch to get to the Jeep. And we would have to move fast. The others would not stay long inside the house.
“Jake, stay here with Jill,” I said. “She’s having difficulty walking. I’ll go around the other way and try to distract the guy by the car. If you could come from this side, Colonel, and try to jump him while I’ve got his attention, maybe we can get out of here.”
“Let’s give it a try,” Jarvis said.
I hurried off around the house.
After nearly tripping over a bucket, I had to dodge something like a hay rake in back. The other side was less cluttered. I could make out things in the dim light and avoided them as I hurried to the front. The man Jake had seen stood near a car parked on the other side of the golf cart from Jarvis’ Cherokee. He was looking toward the house.
I got behind a tree hidden in the darkness and called out, “Where is Moshe?”
He jerked his head toward me. “Who is that?”
“I need to talk to him. Did he go in the house?”
I saw him reach inside his jacket, then step in my direction. That’s as far as he got. Jarvis slammed his head with a piece of pipe. He went down cold.
We squatted down and searched for the gun. Jarvis found it, stood, and was about to throw it off into the darkness when the front door burst open. The area was flooded with light. Moshe Levin stormed out, followed closely by Eli Zalman. Zalman had a plaster across his nose.
They went for their weapons the moment they saw us, but Jarvis leveled the gun at them in the Weaver stance. “Hold it right there!”
Both men froze, muscles tensed, eyes glaring. I pulled out the H&K and joined the colonel, blood pumping. Not only had we freed Jill, but we had her captors in our sights. I motioned toward the Mercedes parked beside the golf cart. “You first, Levin,” I said. “Move over here and lean against the car, hands high, feet apart.”
He walked slowly, arms at his sides. He leaned against the car, his face twisted like a gargoyle in the odd light. I patted him down, removing a small .38 caliber revolver, which I promptly threw across the road into the vineyard. I followed the same routine with Zalman, who was armed with another H&K semiautomatic. I sent it sailing also.
“You never intended to give us that scroll.” Levin said.
“I was always prepared to turn it over. I just didn’t think you’d let us go free after you got your hands on it.”
“Why shouldn’t we?”
“A bit embarrassing for the world to know what you did, wouldn’t you say? Particularly since the scroll belongs to Jordan. Not to you or the Palestinians.”
Colonel Jarvis suddenly said, “Damn. Where’s the woman?”
Oh, God.
Levin shrugged. “You did a masterful job of taping her. We didn’t take time to cut her loose.”
“Bullshit,” Jarvis said. “One of us had better go check on her.”
I took a firm grip on the pistol. “Go ahead, Colonel. I’ll watch these two.”
Colonel Jarvis started toward the open door, but a voice from the corner of the house stopped him. I didn’t take my eyes off Levin and Zalman, but I recognized the voice of the woman in fatigues.
“Both of you stay where you are and drop those guns, unless you want this lady’s throat slit.”
I turned to see her standing in the dim glow from the light on the tractor shed, her left arm wrapped tightly around Jill’s chest, her right hand clutching a glittering knife against Jill’s throat.
Chapter 41
I don’t know why I did it–some perverse reflex, I guess–but I hurled the H&K over my head as far as I could toss it, across the road behind me. That weapon would not be used against us, I thought. But it was a futile gesture. Colonel Jarvis dropped the unconscious man’s gun to the ground, and they quickly relieved him of the Beretta he carried. I was also forced to give up the Jetfire in my pocket.
“Get your damned hands off my wife,” I yelled at the woman.
She pulled the knife away from Jill’s throat and shoved her forward.
“She’s all yours, bastard.”
I rushed toward Jill as she fell to the ground, arms sprawled in front of her. I heard Jarvis ask, “What did you do to Cohen, the man she was with?”
The woman gave a bitter laugh. “He’s resting.”
I helped Jill sit up. She appeared to be in no worse shape than before, except for mud on the long pink dress and on my jacket.
The woman walked toward the others. “Where is Yigal?”
“Here on the ground next to the car,” Zalman said. “You’d better check him out, Yelena. See if he’s all right.”
I looked up to see Moshe Levin standing beside us. “You think your wife is in terrible shape, McKenzie? It is nothing to how she will be if you don’t produce that scroll.”
We were in the worst imaginable position, but I saw one chance. What was required was a small lie . . . one the colonel would go along with. First we had to get into a more civilized situation. That way we would have a better chance at creating a diversion.
“The scroll is at Colonel Jarvis’s apartment in Tel Aviv,” I said, in what I hoped sounded like I was resigned to the inevitable. “We were going to bring it to Caesarea. Take us there and you can have the damn thing.”
He gave me a long, icy stare and then looked back toward the Mercedes. “How is Yigal?”
“His breathing seems better, but he hasn’t come around yet,” replied the woman called Yelena. “Could be a concussion. We should get him to the infirmary.”
“Very well,” Levin said. “Put him in the car. Eli and Colonel Jarvis will accompany you to the infirmary. Then you and Eli
will take the colonel to his apartment and bring back the scroll . . . if McKenzie is not lying.”
“What about you?” Zalman asked.
“I will stay here and entertain the McKenzies. Call me on the cell phone from Tel Aviv.”
Colonel Jarvis looked at me and mouthed something I couldn’t understand. They loaded the unconscious man in the back seat. I saw Jarvis slip something from his pocket and drop it to the ground. No one else seemed to notice.
After a few minutes, Yelena climbed in beside her wounded comrade, Jarvis was directed to the passenger seat in front and the Mercedes roared off with Eli Zalman at the wheel, his nose bandage odd in the light. By this time I was getting quite concerned about Jake. I asked Levin if I could help Jill inside the house where it was a little warmer, then go check on Jake.
“She can sit in the doorway,” he said.
After I had helped her over to the stoop, Levin looked down, waving the colonel’s Beretta at her menacingly. “If you move from there before we get back, I will shoot your husband in the foot.”
The cold air and the adrenalin from all the violent activity had begun to revive her. I could see defiance creeping into her eyes. But she merely said, “I’m not going anywhere.”
I hurried around to the side of the house with Levin close on my heels. I found Jake just beginning to sit up. He held one hand to his head.
“I feel like I’ve been hit by a baseball bat,” he muttered.
“You’ll be okay,” I said.
Levin moved so Jake could see the Beretta. “You will come with us, Mr. Cohen. Get up.”
I started to help him, but Levin swung the gun toward me. “Stay away from him. He can manage on his own.”
Jake was a bit wobbly, but he made it okay as we walked around front. When we reached the doorway where Jill sat, I felt the urge to loosen things a bit. I gave our host a smirk.
“What’s so funny?” Levin asked.
“Nothing.”
He was not amused. “If they don’t find that scroll at Colonel Jarvis’s apartment, McKenzie, you’ll be interrogated. I’m sure you are familiar with some of our techniques. I will use whatever it takes to extract what we need from you.”
Secret of the Scroll (Greg McKenzie Mysteries) Page 21
