by J. M. LeDuc
An hour and a half later, the three men were dressed all in squad uniform. Black, light weight pants, black long sleeve jersey and solid black running shoes. Brent could hear Caleb and Alana quietly arguing in the kitchen.
Entering, he asked, “Is everything alright. I hope we didn’t cause any undue stress between you.”
“Not at all,” Caleb replied. “Just a discussion between man and wife.”
Brent looked at Alana. Her face seemed to show something other than an ordinary discussion. She caught him staring and looked away.
Brent decided that this wasn’t the time to meddle. She has my number and can call if she needs anything.
Breaking the tension, he said, “On behalf of the Ambassador, I would like to thank you for your help.”
The men shook hands and Alana kissed each man on both cheeks. When she came to Brent, her lips brushed against his as she passed from the right to the left side of his face. Opening the door to face the night, she whispered, “Stay safe, Ambassador, for your life is in grave danger. I will tell no one who you really are.”
Brent smiled and whispered back, “Thank you, Alana for everything and if I thought you would have told anyone, you would never know.” Their hands touched and fingers clenched briefly before Brent broke the hold and disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER 14
Two hours later, they reached the ancient hillside, outside of Jerusalem, known as Kiryat Yearim.
“Thank God,” Bishop Jessup said in midst of trying to catch his breath. “I didn’t realize it was possible to be so happy to be somewhere I really don’t want to be.”
Ignoring his comments, Brent pointed half way up the hillside. “Squad intel says that there will be one sentry at the mouth of that cave. We’re also told that there are four other watchmen hiding in the area below. We’re going to fan out. Seven, you take the left and I’ll take the right. Bishop, you’re to walk straight up this path. You’re gonna draw their attention, allowing us to gain the advantage.”
“Why does it always seem that I’m being used as a decoy?”
“Because,” Brent said, “That’s the order your commanding officer gave you.”
He looked at Brent wanting to say something sarcastic, but the look in Brent’s eyes told him different. Instead, he just nodded his understanding and waited for Brent to give the go sign. A minute later, Brent heard a slight rustling in the bushes and pointed at both of them.
Bishop Jessup looked to his left, but Seven had already disappeared. Looking back to his right, Brent was nowhere to be seen.
“I swear,” he mumbled as he began to stomp along the path, “I’ll never get used to this. One minute they’re here and the next minute—poof they’ve vanished.”
Walking along the path, he thought he heard a sound to his right. He stopped in his tracks. As quick as it came, it was gone.
His heart began to pound and a cold sweat began to bead on his face. He was tempted to look around, but didn’t. He just kept on walking. Three more times, he thought he heard a similar sound, but they ended so fast, he couldn’t be sure. He just continued along the path that led to the mouth of the cave, up on the hillside.
Nearing the cave, the sentry, who had been in his visual field the entire time up until he made a short switch back near the top of the ridge, was gone. Before the Bishop could even turn around to look for the others, he heard the unmistakable sound of the cocking of a trigger.
“Don’t move, my friend or you will be the second one to die here in as many nights. Put your arms up over your head, where I can see them and move to your left.”
Taking the first step to his left, the Bishop heard a second trigger cock.
Much to his relief, he heard Brent’s voice. “You were right about the second death in as many nights. It’s just the object of your thinking that’s wrong. Now it is your turn. Drop the gun, lift your hands toward the sky and move to your left.”
The unknown man hesitated for a few seconds, apparently waiting for something to happen.
“All your men,” Seven said, appearing from the right side of the hill, “have been sedated. So, if you’re waiting for them to come to your rescue, I wouldn’t bother.” Motioning with his eyes, he continued, “My friend standing behind you hasn’t killed anyone in days and for him, that’s a very long time. If I were you, I would do exactly what you’ve been told.”
The man holding the gun to Bishop Jessup’s head looked to his left and right. Seeing the ominous figures of Seven and Brent, both with guns pointed and both wearing totally blacked out form-fitted face masks, he dropped his weapon and placed both hands high above his head.
“This is not as it looks,” he said in heavily accented, broken English.
“What exactly is it then?” asked Brent, kicking the automatic weapon towards Seven.
“If you would allow me to put my arms down, I will tell you.”
“You will tell me with your arms just where they are, or standing on your head, if that’s my intention. You are in no position to barter.” Brent pushed the barrel of his semi-automatic a little harder into the man’s neck, “Understand?”
“Yes, yes, I understand. It’s just that I was shot last night in my left shoulder and I don’t think I can keep it up any longer.”
“Three,” Brent said, calling the Bishop by his code name, “Check my friend’s left shoulder for a recent wound.”
The Bishop, still upset about having to play decoy, squeezed the man’s shoulder as hard as he could.
“Arrgh,” the man yelled as he dropped to his knees, holding his left arm with his right for support.
Helping the man to his feet, Brent looked at the Bishop, “I just wanted you to look at it, but that worked.”
He led the man to a large rock and told him to have a seat so they could look at his wound. The pain caused the assailant to have shallow, rapid breathing as he stumbled his way to the rock.
Sliding his knife from its sheath, Brent cut the man’s shirt from his shoulder.
“There’s no exit hole,” Seven said as he too examined the wound.
“The bullet is still embedded in your shoulder,” Brent said.
The man sitting with his head practically in his lap just nodded.
“Did you seek medical care?”
“No, I have been here the entire time.”
“What have you been waiting for?” Brent asked.
Looking sleep deprived and in pain, he looked up. “You,” he said.
“What is your name?”
“My name is Abraham, but you can call me Abe.”
“Well Abe, if we don’t get that bullet out of there and clean that wound, it will become gangrenous and you will lose your arm. So my friends and I are going to do just that.”
“Will it hurt?” Abe asked, looking up at Brent’s blacked out mask.
“Hell, yeah, it will hurt, but no more than it does right now.”
“Then go ahead and do what you must.”
Brent and Seven removed their masks.
“First thing we need to do is find it.” Brent handed Abe a thick piece of leather from his backpack. “Bite on this.”
“What is this?”
“It’s so you don’t bite down and crack your teeth.”
Not quite sure what Brent meant, Abe took the strap and bit down.
Lightly touching the man’s flesh, Seven said, “From the angle of the entrance wound, it must have lodged right about here.”
Pushing a little bit harder on the back of Abe’s shoulder, he felt the bullet. Abe screamed from pain and bit down hard on the strap.
“We can’t get to it from the front without causing massive nerve damage,” Brent said. “You’re going to have to make the cut in between the medial and posterior deltoid muscles.”
“Oh, God, help me,” Abe
mumbled in his native tongue, through gritted teeth.
“He always does,” Bishop Jessup replied back in Hebrew.
Abe looked back at the Bishop. He was surprised to hear him speak in Hebrew.
The Bishop saw the look. “I speak some,” he said, “but I prefer we speak in English.”
Seven finished heating a scalpel to a fiery red and nodded to Brent.
“Abe, I need you to do exactly as I tell you,” Brent instructed. “I want you to lean forward and place your chest against mine. My friend here is going to hold your head very tight, so that you don’t throw it back and hurt yourself even more.”
Bishop Jessup clamped down on the sides of Abe’s head and forced it into Brent’s chest. While doing so, he said a silent prayer of healing. Brent wrapped his arms around Abe’s back in order to help hold him still. He then nodded to Seven who took the red hot blade and cut deep into the man’s shoulder. It sliced through like a warm knife sliding through butter. The first cut of his flesh had Abe screaming louder than he ever thought possible while trying to throw his head back.
“Just hold him a bit longer, padre. I’m almost there,” Seven said.
With the next cut, Abe went totally limp.
“Is he dead?” the Bishop asked.
“No, just wishes he was,” Seven responded.
“He passed out from the pain. Shock forces the body to shut down,” Brent added.
“Got it,” Seven said, holding the bullet between bloody thumb and fore finger. “He’s full of infection.” He glanced at Bishop Jessup. “Throw me the medical kit,” he said.
Using a 10 cc syringe, he withdrew the puss. With another he injected alcohol and saline into the wound.
“That’s about it, boys,” he said as he washed his hands. “I’m packing it with antibiotic and taping it up. It’s going to have to heal from the inside out.”
Forty-five minutes later Abe came to, lying on a blanket. His shoulder, immobilized, was wrapped in gauze and tape. Sitting up, he eyed his shoulder. “The pain is gone. Praise God, the pain is gone,” he said. Looking around, he said, “My friends? Are they alright? Have you killed them?”
“No, they’re fine. In fact they should be waking up right about now,” Brent said.
“And they’re gonna be mad,” Seven said, spitting tobacco juice.
Minutes later, four angry men came storming out of the bushes, screaming in Hebrew and pointing their guns.
Abe stood up and started screaming back at them. “What are they saying, padre,” Seven asked.
“They’re calling us war pigs, and saying that they should shoot us in retribution for killing their friend last night.”
“Good luck to them,” Seven laughed as he put a new plug of tobacco in his mouth. “The trigger mechanism on their weapons has been disabled. If they want to shoot us, they’re gonna have to throw the bullets at us.”
After a few minutes of screaming back and forth, Abe was able to rationalize with his friends and send them back down into the village. “They go to prepare food and a place for you to stay,” Abe said.
“That’s thoughtful, but we need to keep moving.” Seeing the disappointment on the Bishop’s face, Brent said, “but we would be grateful for a meal.”
Abe shrugged his good shoulder as if to say, Suit yourselves.
Brent sat back down, indicating that they weren’t ready to leave. “I do need to ask you a couple of questions before we go. The men that came last night, what did they look like?”
Abe went on and described the same three men that Alana had described earlier.
“And the one that they killed, I am assuming that he was the messenger; Joachim Cohen?”
Saddened, Abe nodded. “Yes, it was Joachim. How is it that you know his name? Did you know him?”
Brent shook his head. “I did not have that honor. I know his name because we are the ones that he was supposed to give the message to. Do you know what he told them?”
Shaking his head, Abe said, “He made me leave the hillside before he told them anything. He said that what he had to say could get me killed. Ironic, isn’t it. The next thing I knew, I heard a gunshot. I was shot running back up the hill. They thought I was dead. I had to wait until they left before I could make my way back up to the cave. By then Joachim was dead.”
“Abe, it is very important that we know what he said. Think hard, did he ever mention anything to you in the past that pertained to the Ark of the Covenant?”
“He spoke of it, but nothing specific. There were rumors that his family had information that could lead to the Ark’s whereabouts, but he would never tell me anything. I just know that like his father before him and his before him, he was known as the messenger.”
Brent squatted down, closed his eyes and slowly drifted into a trance. Seconds later, he began sifting dirt between his hands.
“What is this he is doing?” Abe asked Bishop Jessup in Hebrew.
“He is talking to God,” the Bishop replied.
“He is what?” Abe said.
“Trust me. I know it makes no sense, but that is the closest explanation I can give you.”
Minutes later, Brent opened his eyes and calmly stood up. “Abe, Joachim was married, correct? His wife’s name is Sarah. Can you take us to her?”
“His wife is indeed Sarah. She is very distraught by her husband’s death. She is sitting Shiva, and I don’t know if she will talk to you. After Joachim was killed, she said she never wanted to hear the words, Ark of the Covenant, spoken in her presence again.”
“Please, take us to her,” Brent said.
“I will do as you say, but she is not a small woman, and she has two good arms. Be ready to duck.”
CHAPTER 15
Being that it was very late or very early, depending on how you look at it, Sarah was alone except for her two sisters who were with her. Abe went into the room where the women were sitting and whispered into Sarah’s ear. The women were sitting on wooden boxes, for the room was void of furniture. The pictures that hung on the walls had been covered. Everything was as it should be during Shiva. A time of mourning.
She erupted like Mount Vesuvius after listening to Abe. She stomped her way out of the room and headed straight for Brent.
“Whatever happens,” Brent said to the others, “don’t get involved. That’s an order.”
Sarah did not stop until she stood directly in front of Brent. Still screaming, she wound up and slapped him across the face, causing his head to jerk to the side. She hit him so hard, his hair went flying, partially covering his face. He flinched, wiped his hair away from his face and then stood his ground, not saying a word, just looking Sarah straight in the eye. Her anger seemed to peak, as her head and neck turned crimson and her voice cracked with emotion.
The venom of her words cut into Brent’s heart. As she continued, she began to pound her fists on his shoulders and chest. When she could no longer swing her arms, her anger turned to sadness. Brent pulled her to him and let her cry on his shoulder, all the while saying how sorry he was for her loss. Ten minutes or so later, Sarah was cried out and lifted her head off of Brent’s soaked shoulder.
He took a handkerchief out of his back pocket and dabbed her eyes as he spoke to her in her native tongue. “I know my words seem hollow to you right now, but my heart aches for you. I’m very sorry for your loss. I know that Joachim was a great man. He was man of great honor and a man of great faith.”
Sarah nodded and began crying again. She took the handkerchief from Brent’s hand and tried to stem the flow of tears.
“Sarah,” Brent said, “If we are to catch the men who did this, we need to know what Joachim told them. We need to know where he sent them.”
Still crying, Sarah spoke through her tears. “I don’t know what he said, nor do I know where they went to. If I did, I would go and kill them
myself.”
Brent helped Sarah to a seat and decided to try a different tactic. “I know how close the two of you were. How close husbands are to their wives. I also know that as much as they may want to, men cannot keep secrets from their wives. He may not have told you in a straight forward manner, but believe me, he told you.” Taking Sarah’s head in his hands, Brent again wiped her tears. “Please, Sarah, think hard. Think about the times when the two of you were alone and he talked about the Ark. I’m sure he spoke about it often.”
Sarah nodded and rolled her eyes back as if to say, that’s all he ever talked about.
“Did he ever say anything that didn’t seem to make any sense, something that stayed with you for days after? Something that you couldn’t stop thinking about?”
Sarah thought hard and said, “He used to say that he wished to take me to Medinat al-mawta, but it was much too dangerous a place for even him to go. It struck me odd because I don’t know why a man would want to take his wife to a graveyard. When I would ask him why he wanted to go there, he would just smile and say, ‘The Ark, my dear Sarah, the Ark’. I figured he had finally gone crazy with all this talk of the Ark of the Covenant and being a messenger.”
Brent hugged Sarah with deep emotion. “Thank you, my dear woman. I promise, Joachim’s death will not go unpunished.” He ended the embrace and asked, “Did he ever mention the name of anyone that he wished to meet at Medinat al-mawta?”
Sarah just shook her head and in a soft voice said, “Please, see that God punishes those who left me with an empty heart.”
“You have my promise and the promise of The Ambassador,” Brent replied.
“That is all I can ask of anyone. God be with you,” Sarah said as she kissed Brent on both cheeks.
Brent did the same and after saying goodbye, he went and joined the others in the front room of the house. “Let’s move. We have a long way to go.”
They left the house and walked out into an early morning sunrise. The Bishop asked, “Where are we going, and what happened to the food?”
