by K. T. Tomb
“Hey Simon,” she answered.
“Phoe.” He spoke her name and then went straight to business. “Where are you at?”
“Venice,” she replied.
“Great,” he replied. “That will save you some time.”
She should have said Taos. Maybe he would have allowed her another day before she had to jump right into a job. She really wanted to go to La Traviata. “What you got?” she sighed.
“You don’t seem very enthused by my call,” Simon said.
“Well, to be honest, you caught me at a bad time.”
“When is there ever a good time?” He chuckled. “Besides, this is an easy one. It won’t take you any time at all.”
Phoe hated it when he said that; it was almost always an instant jinx. Phoe waited a moment to see if he was going to give her more.
“So, why is it a bad time?” he asked, filling the void in their conversation.
“Charlotte is here with me. We were planning on going shopping today and then to the opera tonight.”
“Ah, yes, La Traviata. I’d be rather put out about my interruption as well.” There was a pause, during which time Phoe could hear the gears in Simon’s brain grinding. “Tell you what. How would you like to do your shopping in London? You’ll still be able to make it back in time for the opera this evening.”
There were plenty of reasons for Phoe to love Simon Kessler, but he’d just given her another. Taking Charlotte shopping in London and then flying back for the opera was even better than what they had planned. A sudden thought crossed her mind, a wicked one, that only a friend could come up with. “And Charlotte?” She hid her excitement behind a somber frown.
“Take her with you. You can take her with you on the whole thing. Like I said, this is an easy one.”
“Okay.” She sighed, watching the sinking look in Charlotte’s eyes as she began to pick up on her feigned disappointment. “What is it?”
“Did you read the Times this morning?”
“Yes.” Instantly, she knew he wanted her to check out the Ark of the Covenant. “The Ark?”
“Yes. So, you did read the Times this morning.”
“Yeah, the article is right in front of me.” She picked up her tablet and continued the article where she had left off while listening to Simon.
“I want you to see if you can authenticate it. I’ll make some arrangements to get you an up-close look. It’s likely to be a circus down there tomorrow.”
“Why London?” she asked, still keeping up her ruse for Charlotte’s benefit.
“There is a biblical archeologist who is the consummate authority on the Ark there. It would be good if you could get some extra background and a crash course, if you will, in what you’ll need to look for.”
“If he’s the expert, why doesn’t he do it?” It was a legitimate question, but asking it made it sound like she was complaining. She watched Charlotte’s response. Her plan was working perfectly. Inside, she was giddy with excitement.
“I’m afraid that Mr. Reginald Whitherby is not able to go there. The man is ancient, Phoe. If that weren’t enough, he’s confined to a wheelchair.”
“Ah. Okay. That’s a pretty good reason.” The sadness in her voice was actually real. Its effect on Charlotte made her act even more convincing.
“I’ll have Jonathan and a jet ready for you in, say, an hour?”
“An hour? You ought to know better than that by now,” Phoe replied.
“Fine. Hour and a half.”
It was still rushing it, but she agreed.
“I’ll have a car for you in London. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours to talk to Mr. Whitherby and then you can do your shopping. I’ll be certain to get you back in time to get dressed and ready for the opera.”
“Okay. Thanks. Will I see you there?”
“Sure. Why not? Safe trip.”
Simon disconnected the call and Phoe sat for a moment, gearing up for the trick that she had planned for Charlotte.
“Bad news,” she said soberly. “We have to go to London. Simon has a job for me.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Well…” she said. “I guess I’ll have to take you with me. You’ll probably be bored…”
“We’re going on a quest together?” Charlotte squealed.
Charlotte’s excitement was already beginning to ruin the trick that she had planned; in fact, it was pretty much spoiled completely. Oh well. We’re still going shopping in London and then the opera in Venice. Who does that sort of thing in one day?
Chapter Three
“So. What do you have to report?” the thickly accented Russian voice asked.
“I think she’s back in Venice,” Sergei replied. It was a little bit irritating to feel like he was immediately being interrogated the moment his boss picked up the phone.
“You think? Is she or isn’t she, Seryozh?” His boss made use of the common Russian practice of addressing him by using the diminutive form of his name.
“She is,” Sergei answered.
“How do you know this, Seryozh? Did you see her there?”
He deserved the snide comment from his employer. He felt the embarrassment of having to make the call to him when he’d lost Thalia Phoenix in Santa Fe a few days before. After trying to find her again in Santa Fe, he finally went to the airport and verified that her plane had left. The flight plan was a dead end. It had been filed for some small town outside of Des Moines, Iowa. Realizing that she could have gone anywhere in the world, he had made the call to his employer and suffered the embarrassment.
“Yes. I saw her, Nicholai,” he replied with a little bit of acid in his voice. Though he had made a mistake and gotten too close in Santa Fe, he didn’t deserve to be questioned concerning his competence. He was a professional. He had simply underestimated Thalia Phoenix. It wouldn’t happen again.
“I’ve told you not to use my name on the phone!” his boss snapped.
Sergei took a deep breath and then continued giving his report. “After I saw the flight plan, I knew that she could have gone anywhere in the world, so I went back to Venice to wait. She was already there. She has her friend with her. So far, they have been doing nothing more than acting like tourists.”
“I hope you were more careful this time.”
“Yes. I have not been seen.”
“Very good. I’m proud of you.” The sarcasm in his voice was syrupy sweet. “I hired a professional, who promised that he would be up to the task. I am having my doubts, Seryozh. I’m afraid we’re back at square one where my trust in you is concerned. I’m hoping that I will not be disappointed.”
“You will not be disappointed. I underestimated Miss Phoenix, but it won’t happen again.” He was bristling from Nicholai’s comments. He gritted his teeth and considered tracking down his employer and getting his revenge instead of carrying out the man’s bidding. The money was good—actually, extraordinary—so he would simply bide his time and do the job. Nicholai wasn’t the man’s real name anyway, and there were a number of layers that he would have to work back through to get to the man; a lot of work, to get nothing in return. He’d just do his job, get his money and move on.
“Is that all that you have to report?” Nicholai asked. “She’s made no phone calls nor received any?”
“I was about to discuss that with you.” He paused a moment to choose his words. “Thalia Phoenix is much better set up than we thought. She might be just an archeologist, but she seems to have a great deal of understanding when it comes to counter-espionage. Her phones are encrypted, it is impossible to get a bug into her residence or anywhere near her without some very fancy work and she seems to have a cloaking system that blocks out parabolic equipment. All I’ve been able to do so far is watch her as she comes and goes.”
“What about the friend?”
“They are together all of the time. Besides, if I’m going to get close to either of them, I’m going to need more people.”
“That wouldn’t be necessary if you hadn’t been so stupid in Santa Fe.”
He wasn’t going to let go of that. “Water through the bridge. Now, however, I will be needing some help.”
“I believe the phrase is ‘water under the bridge.’ I’m beginning to think that I made a very bad choice when I believed all of the hype about you. You are being paid well enough for two men already, but I will send two more.”
“I would prefer to choose my own.”
“And I would prefer you didn’t. They will be in Venice by tomorrow morning. See if you can keep up with Miss Phoenix long enough to brief them when they arrive.”
The line went dead before Sergei had a chance to respond. Clenching his teeth and whispering a few of his pet expletives, he continued his surveillance of the building where Thalia Phoenix had her penthouse apartment.
Sergei was not new to espionage and clandestine operations. He’d been making a living at it for quite some time. Having been raised by a retired KGB operative from before the Soviet collapse, he was just like any other boy; he wanted to be just like his old man.
The often hair-raising stories that his father told of secret missions and dangerous encounters made Sergei long for the heady days of the old Soviet empire and the chance to be a part of the most powerful and most feared agency that ever existed. Since that was never going to be the case, however; he had to create his own intrigue. The money is certainly better than the sparse pay of the old KGB. Just as the thought sprang into his head, he observed a particularly well-outfitted gondola pull up beside Thalia’s building and the very well-dressed pair of women exiting the building.
He scrambled to get to the boat that he’d rented and saw the operator resting soundly.
“I’m not paying you to sleep,” he snapped in his rough Italian. “Get this damned thing moving and follow that gondola!” If he lost her again, he might as well kiss the job, and especially the money, goodbye. Likely, Nicholai was even well enough connected to destroy his entire reputation and career as well.
Gripping the sides of the boat, due to his extreme level of tension, he willed the boat to go faster each time the gondola they were following disappeared around another corner, but he cursed under his breath whenever they moved in a little too close. If Phoenix got another look at him, it would all be over.
The gondola docked and the two friends stepped onto the dock and made their way to a dark limo. As the car pulled away, Sergei was scrambling out of his rented boat, across the dock and up to the street where he frantically waved down a taxi. He was definitely going to need help.
With some luck, the taxi was able to tail the limo to the entrance of the airport where private passengers boarded. Afraid that Thalia would get a glimpse of him, Sergei had the driver continue down the street past the entrance. Several blocks away, he exited the cab, paid the driver and started back along the street to the private passenger terminal. Hoping that the limo had pulled on through and Thalia and her friend were taken directly to their hangar, Sergei entered the terminal and scanned the waiting area; he had been right.
Sergei was an attractive and confident man, something that often allowed him privileges that others might not be able to obtain. Seeing the attractive woman at the desk, he put on his best smile and started forward toward her.
“May I help you, sir?” The woman smiled as she spoke to him in a musical Italian voice.
“Do you happen to have a flight plan filed for a friend of mine?”
“What are the tail numbers?”
Sergei quickly rattled off the tail numbers to the private jet of Thalia Phoenix.
After several moments of searching, the woman looked up at him. “We don’t have a recent flight plan filed for that tail number, sir. Are you sure those are the correct numbers?”
“They are the tail numbers for Thalia Phoenix, right?”
“Yes, they are, sir.”
“I was certain that she was flying out today. I was supposed to accompany her. Perhaps I have the wrong date. I could have sworn that I saw her arrive in a car only moments before. Maybe she is taking a different jet?” Sergei rang his hands and acted as though he was extremely stressed over his mistake. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
“It’s a rather slow day,” the woman responded, sympathetic to his stress. “Let me see what other flight plans were filed in the last hour.
“I only have one filed. It’s bound for London. Is that where you were to accompany Miss Phoenix?”
“No. That’s not it,” he lied. It was most definitely where she was going. How the hell was he going to find her in London? By the time he flew to London on a commercial airliner, they’d be long gone from the airport. He had to get some help. “Thank you for your help, ma’am. I guess I’ll have to call and find out if we got our date and time crossed up.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can do for you?” The question and expression seemed to suggest that there was more behind what she was asking than just looking up flight plans.
As tempting as it was to look deeper into the unspoken offer, Sergei had a job to do and he didn’t have time to be distracted. “Maybe another time.” He beamed at her and then left the terminal.
He pushed the speed dial button on his cell phone.
“Yes?” Nicholai’s voice answered.
“She’s on a private jet to London. There is no way I can catch up to her and keep track of her.”
“I’ll get someone to take care of it.”
Chapter Four
“There are those, of course, Miss Phoenix and, uh, Miss DeCampos,” Reginald Whitherby continued, looking from one to the other as he spoke, “who believe that the ark was brought out of Jerusalem by Menelik, who was supposedly the son of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. That the two even had a son or any form of marriage between them is subject of a great deal of speculation, all of which would take most of the afternoon to explain. But, if we assume that this Menelik was a son of theirs, then, to what ‘sacred ark’ was being referred to by King Josiah in the thirty-fifth chapter of second Chronicles?”
“Is it possible that either the Ark that Menelik carried to Ethiopia or the Ark to which King Josiah was referring, was a replica? If you want to hide something or keep it safe, you make a replica of it and place it in plain sight and hide the real one under lock and key. We do that in archeology all of the time.”
“Indeed we do, Miss Phoenix, indeed we do.” Mr. Whitherby removed his glasses and used one of the spectacle’s handles to point at Phoe while emphasizing his point.
“So, which one would be the replica?” Charlotte asked, following along with the discussion. She was eagerly engaged in the new job that Thalia had brought her on.
“That is precisely what we need to find out, Miss DeCampos,” he replied, using the exact same pointing device in Charlotte’s direction. How much do you two ladies know about the Ark of the Covenant?”
“Not a great deal,” Thalia responded. “I’ve read some, but it really hasn’t ever been on my list of archeological artifacts until now.”
“According to the Hebrew Torah, which is, of course, the first five books of what we now call the Bible and were written by Moses, God commanded Moses to build what is not much more than a common chest that was just a little over four feet in length and just a little bit under two feet wide and two feet high. It was made of acacia wood, which is a soft wood that is common to the region, not a great deal unlike a fir, pine or yew tree. Acacia wood puts off a fragrance sort of like cedar. So, in essence, God was commanding Moses to make a cedar chest.
“This cedar chest, however, was cased in gold, which was hammered out by Hebrew craftsmen in an intricate design in order to cover the bottom and sides of the box; however, it is the lid that is the most extraordinary, as you can see by these renderings of what the original probably looked like. You’ll note that there are two cherubim spreading their wings out toward each other. This area is what is referred to as the ‘mercy se
at.’ The mercy seat was where the High Priest would sprinkle the blood from the sacrifice each year during the ceremony of atonement. You might have seen Yom Kippur labeled on your calendar toward the end of September and the beginning of October.”
“I’ve seen that,” Charlotte cut in. “And Rosh Hashanah also.”
“Yes, Miss DeCampos,” he responded with enthusiasm. “Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of what is known as the Days of Awe, which culminates 40 days and 40 nights of the Tishri. The entire observance is culminated by the slaying of the perfect, unblemished lamb as the atonement for the Jewish people. That sacrifice that culminates the observance takes place on Yom Kippur, which is the final day of it all.”
“Okay, so, the High Priest sprinkled the sacrificial blood on the Mercy Seat to make atonement for the sins of the people. I’ve got that, but why make a box? I mean, typically a box or a chest is to store things in. It is my understanding that the ten stone tablets of the original Ten Commandments were placed inside along with…”
“A jar of manna and the staff of Aaron that miraculously budded,” Whitherby interrupted. “Those, Miss Phoenix, were the most prized relics and reminders of God’s provisions for His people.”
“So, would they still be in there?” she asked. “Couldn’t we just look inside and see if those items were there in order to authenticate it?”
“You certainly could, Miss Phoenix,” he chuckled. “In fact, if you were able to open the box and look to see if those items were inside of it, you would most certainly know that it was a fake.”
“But I don’t understand. Those items should prove it to be authentic.”
“There is another side to the Ark of the Covenant; a dark and dreary side. You see, after Moses and Aaron placed those items inside the Ark, no one was to ever open the lid again. The penalty for doing so was instant death. Truthfully, to even touch the actual surface of the Ark brought down the wrath of God and instant death. To open the lid was particularly horrendous. The book of Samuel has an account of the death of seventy Israelites who decided to open the lid, as well as the death of a young Levite who reached out to steady the Ark while it was in transport and was instantly struck down.
