by J. M. LeDuc
“What brings you back to my humble village?”
“We need your help,” Brent said. “But I’d rather not discuss it out in the open.”
“Come,” she said, “we will go back to the house and I will get you something to drink. We can talk there.”
Inside her home, the men relaxed a bit and let down their guard. “Where is Caleb?” Brent asked. “This concerns him, also.”
“He left to go visit his mother in Tel Aviv. He will not be back for a week or so.” Alana’s words seemed sterile and cold. After pouring them something to drink, she said, “You all smell like goats. Please feel free to use my shower. In fact, I insist.”
Brent looked over at his men and told them to go first. He had some things he needed to discuss with Alana.
“I’ll wait here until Seven finishes washing up,” the Bishop said.
Brent leered at him. “I think I made myself perfectly clear, I need to speak to Alana in private. So, I really don’t care where you go, as long as you go.”
“Come on, Bishop,” Seven said, “I saw some supplies that we’ll need back at the marketplace. I’ll need your help carrying them back.”
Walking away from the home, Bishop Jessup said, “Do you really think that was a good idea, leaving those two alone like that?”
“I do.”
“Why?” he questioned. “You know what kind of attraction there is between the two of them. Why would you want to put that kind of temptation in front of Brent?”
Seven stopped just before they exited the alley and entered the market. “Didn’t you notice the bruising on Alana’s face and neck?”
The Bishop was taken aback. “No, I didn’t see anything.”
“Well, I did, and so did the colonel. That’s what he needs to talk to her about. She might open up to him, but she’s not going to do so with all of us around.”
“You mean to tell me that Caleb is physically abusing her?”
“That’s what I’m telling you, Sherlock, now let’s gather the supplies we’ll need for our trip.”
****
“That was subtle,” Alana said, taking Brent’s glass from his hand and drinking from it.
“I didn’t mean for it to be subtle, just effective. Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, taking the glass back.
She turned away from Brent. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Brent reached and put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Delicately, he slid his hands to her blouse and undid the first button. His hands brushed against her skin. She breathed deep. Her bosom seemed to heave toward him as she inhaled. Brent opened her blouse just a bit, so the bruising was more evident. “I’m talking about this.” He lightly traced the black and blue marks with his fingertips. “How long has Caleb been hurting you?”
Embarrassed, Alana moved Brent’s hands away and re-buttoned her blouse. “It is nothing,” she said. Her voice started to tremble as she finished her sentence. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You’re right. I don’t have to worry about you. I choose to. Please let me help. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment.”
“No one does,” Alana said, her voice stunted, “but it is what it is.”
“How long has it been going on?”
Alana, still facing away from Brent began to cry. He could see her shoulders jerking up and down and he could hear her muffled sobs. “Since the day we were wed. There was never any love between us.”
Brent gently placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Using the sleeve of his shirt, he softly wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Why then did you marry?”
“My father arranged the marriage because he considered me a disgrace to the family. I was in my late twenties and still single. In this culture, this village, a single woman of that age is either considered trouble or a whore. My father chose to believe I was both. Caleb thought the same as my father and has treated me as such.”
“I know that not to be true,” Brent said.
“How? How do you know, when everyone else seems to think so?”
“You said the last time we were here that you could see my soul through my eyes. Well, the same is true of your eyes.”
“And what do you see?”
“Purity, loneliness, and a stubbornness that makes you think that somehow you deserve what is happening to you.” Brent placed his fingers on her chin and lifted her head so she was looking straight at him. “But you don’t,” he asserted. “You deserve all of God’s gifts, and the greatest of those is love.”
Alana didn’t answer. She just stared at him momentarily and then wrapped her arms around his neck and began to cry harder and louder. Instinctively, Brent wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight. It was not an embrace of passion, but an embrace of comfort. It was as if they both could feel God’s love pass between them.
When she had cried herself out, they let go of each other and sat at the kitchen table. They both drank. It gave them time to pause. To Alana, the water tasted different. Not better or worse, just—more fulfilling.
“So, tell me, why did you come back?” she asked.
“Like I said when we first arrived, I need a favor from you.”
“Anything. Just ask and I will do it,” Alana quickly answered.
“Not so fast, you don’t even know what it is that I’m going to ask you.”
“Then ask.”
“We know where the Ark of the Covenant is, but in order to get to it, we have to navigate a lot of unmarked, possibly treacherous subterranean tunnels. We have a crude map, but that’s all. We need your expertise as an archeologist to help us find our way.”
“How do you know of my education and where are these tunnels?”
“To answer your first question,” Brent said, “let’s just say I have my sources. To answer the second, they begin in one of the caves carved in the hillside of Kiryat Yearim and they end under the Dome of the Rock, in the Holy of Holies of Solomon’s Temple.”
“You said you have a map of these tunnels, may I see it?”
Brent nodded and produced the map from his backpack. She studied it for a moment and said, “This is only the map of the Holy of Holies. Where is the rest?”
Brent showed her the map he downloaded from Joan, “As you can see there are no markings telling us where these tunnels begin and there are many caves on that hillside.” Brent looked away from the drawing and back at Alana. “Now you know why it’s so important that you come along. We know the general direction in which to travel once we enter the caves, but we don’t know where it’s safe and where it isn’t. Only a trained archeologist would be able to tell these things.”
“You do know that the temple grounds are under Muslim control.”
“We know,” Brent nodded. “That’s why I want you to think long and hard before saying yes.”
Alana turned her attention away from Brent and the map and repositioned her chair so that she was facing him. She motioned for Brent to do the same.
“Are we going to play these games again?” he asked.
“This is no game,” she responded. “I need to know the truth.”
“What truth?” Brent said as he scooted his chair around so that he was now face to face.
“Come, lean forward,” she said. Alana reached forward and wiped Brent’s hair from his face. Staring deep into his eyes, she said, “There are many archeologists that would jump at the chance to go with you. Why me?”
Reciprocating the gesture, Brent brushed her hair back behind her shoulders. “I figured you could use some time away from here and because I like your company. I also know I can trust you.”
Without breaking eye contact, Alana asked, “How do you know?”
“I just do. Will you help us?”
She
broke eye contact with Brent and stood up. “I will have to buy new tools. Caleb made me throw away all my old ones. He told me that part of my life no longer existed and he did not want any memories of it around the house.”
Deep in conversation, neither of them seemed to hear Seven and the Bishop return from the marketplace.
Pointing to her head and then her heart, Alana said with defiance, “But he could not take away what is in here and in here.”
“Eh em,” Seven said as they entered the kitchen.
Alana looked in his direction with indifference and rolled her eyes. “Don’t think yourself so sneaky. I heard your footsteps before you even reached the house. I just didn’t feel the need to stop my conversation with the Ambassador. If he trusts you hearing what we were saying, then who am I not to.”
Seven smiled. “Now I know why you wanted her to come with us, Colonel. Oh, and Alana, don’t worry about your tools. We just picked up everything we’ll need.”
“Good,” she said, “so now maybe you can shower. We are going to be in very close proximity to each other for the next few days. I don’t need you starting out smelling like goats.”
An hour later, the four of them were sitting around the kitchen table going over what they knew and what they may encounter.
“You will lead us through the tunnels from Kiryat Yearim to the Temple Mount,” Brent said. Alana nodded her affirmative. “At that point you will yield your leadership to me and fall back behind Bishop Jessup, with Seven on the back end.”
Brent looked around the table at his team, and as he did, his expression changed. His face solemn and his eyes void of expression. Seven and the Bishop had seen this transformation before, but for Alana, this was a first. Her entire body tensed up and she grabbed Bishop Jessup’s arm. In turn, he patted her arm and whispered, “Everything is alright. You’ll get used to it.”
“That could take some getting used to,” she said, as she placed her hands back in her lap.
Standing up, Brent looked at his team before he turned to walk out of the room. “Get some rest, we leave at sundown.”
CHAPTER 29
While the others slept, Brent squatted in the corner of the room, relaxed his shoulders and took slow deep breaths. The slower his breathing the lower he dropped. His hands began making the motion as if he was sifting sand between them. As he began to descend into a meditative, almost subconscious state, his eyes closed, his heartbeat slowed and his pulse all but disappeared. He could feel himself going further and further back into the recesses of his mind until there was nothing but a void . . . a black hole. Somehow through this nothingness, images poured forth. Every moment of their mission, so far, flashed before him.
Searching for something, but not knowing what, he kept running through what they had done and where they had gone. Suddenly, he saw what he had been searching for. He had felt that something wasn’t right, but until now, he couldn’t put his finger on it. As his mind relived their first meeting with Caleb and his cousin, he spotted the tattoo. The sign of the Brotherhood of Gaza was on both of their forearms.
Brent’s heart rate quickened, and his pulse spiked to an unhealthy level. He fought to stay deep within his mind. He had other things he needed to work out and didn’t want to waste any time. Continuing to squat in the corner, he managed to get his emotion back under control. He again slowed his heart rate and pulse, once again finding himself in the void between subconsciousness and death.
Visions of every scenario of their up-coming trip played through his head as if they were a movie. He began to hear voices in his head. The visions began to fade.
“Colonel, can you hear me?” he heard Seven ask. At first the voice was faint, but as he began to comeback from the darkness, the voice became louder and closer.
“I don’t feel a pulse,” Alana said frantically. “My god, don’t tell me he’s dead.”
“He’s not dead,” Seven said, “just somewhere in between.”
“In between what?” she asked.
“Between life and death.” Seven didn’t take his eyes off Brent. Again he tried to make contact. This time using Phantom Squad vernacular, “Two calling One, do you copy?”
Brent’s pulse and heart rate once again jumped to life. He cracked open his eyes lids and inhaled deep and loud as if starved for air. He rose on wobbly legs. He didn’t look at the others, but instead, turned toward the wall and leaned up against it. A cold sweat pouring off his face.
“You were under way too long, Colonel,” Seven said. “I’ve never seen you have such trouble coming out of it.” He placed his hands on the colonel’s shoulder. “As one friend to another, don’t ever do that again.”
Brent took one final deep breath and turned to face the others. The color started to return to his face as the perspiration diminished. “Thank you—all of you.” He gave himself a few minutes to regain his strength before continuing. “I was able to ascertain a lot while I was under. . . ” He looked directly at Alana, “and one of the things I saw was the sign of the Brotherhood of Gaza on Caleb’s arm as well as Ira’s. We’re going to have to be extremely careful during our trip.”
Before anyone could say anything, he added, “I hope everyone got some sleep, because we move out in five.”
“What is this Brotherhood of Gaza?” Alana asked.
“It’s the terrorist organization that is trying to find the Ark. The three men you saw in the marketplace the other day were part of it.”
“Now I know why he and Ira had to go away so often,” she spewed. The hatred and disgust for her husband was palpable. “I’ll bet he didn’t go visit his mother like he said.”
“You’re probably right,” Brent agreed, “even more reason for us to be extra cautious.”
With the remaining moments, Brent sent a text to Maddie updating her on the latest news. He let her know that Alana would accompany them into the tunnel system and that the team’s communication would be in the black for the next few days. He signed off by telling her that Seven missed and loved her and to please send his love to his girls.
CHAPTER 30
Three hours later they found themselves in Kiryat Yearim, low in the brush just below the hillside caves. “Why would Abe still be guarding the cave?” Seven whispered.
“Good question, and why so heavily armed?” Brent answered. “What do you say we find out? Seven, on my command, you’re to circle around to the top of the hill and wait for my signal. Bishop, you’re to stay put until I say so.”
Brent waved for Alana to come squat beside him. Pulling a small Berretta handgun out of his calf holster, he handed it to her. “I know you’ve had some military experience.” She nodded her affirmative. “Do you still no how to operate one of these?”
In response, she removed the clip, checked the ammo, slid the clip back in, and chambered a round.
Satisfied with what he saw, he took the Berretta back from her and handed her his Springfield Armory Semi-automatic M1911A1 45 caliber handgun. “You’ll be able to shoot the head off a pimple with this,” he said. “No heroics, only fire if you feel that you or Bishop Jessup is in imminent danger.”
Alana’s eyes went from the handgun back to Brent, and in that instant she saw for the second time, all the emotion drain from his face. The color drained from her own. She nodded her understanding.
Brent liked her attitude. He looked at Seven, gave a slight head nod and he was gone. Alana looked behind her so she could see Seven, but there was no one there. “What kind of men are these?” she whispered. “They are like the wind.”
Turning back to Brent, she saw him lunging forward on all fours, cat-like with speed and agility she had never witnessed. Even more amazing was the fact that she could not see any tracks left in his wake. “My Lord,” she said to herself, “this man, this child of yours is as much spirit as he is flesh.”
Brent saw the automatic r
ifle that Abe was carrying. After the death of the Joachim, he couldn’t justify any reason for him to still be here.
Pressing his lips together, Brent whistled a signal. A few seconds later, he could hear rustling coming from the left side of the cave, above the hillside.
Abe quickly tightened the grip on his weapon and released the safety. “Who’s there?” He demanded. When there was no answer he repositioned himself so he was halfway wrapped around the left front side of the cave. “I will ask one more time, if you are a friend, say so. If you do not answer, I will be forced to shoot.”
From his vantage point, Brent could see Seven with stealth and speed move around the right side and slip in to the mouth of the cave.
“It is like they are spirits,” Alana commented. “I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes.”
“They are more spirit than you know, Brent even more so,” Bishop Jessup whispered.
Alana wanted to ask the Bishop what he meant, but there was no time. She watched, as Abe slowly made his way up the left side of the hill. With every step his footfall caused the crackling of twigs and dirt. He tried to step softly, but there was no way he could not make sounds with the weight of each step. When he was satisfied that there was no one up there, he retraced his steps, walking backward down the hill.
Brent maneuvered around the top left side of the cave without any of the footfall noise that Abe just made.
Alana could see the anxiety and the terror of the moment wash the color from Abe’s face as he once again took his post. She watched as he released his finger from the trigger and lowered his weapon. Her heart began to pound and beads of sweat began to form on her skin. She could see Brent standing behind him, pistol pointing at the back of his head. She was unable to hear Brent’s words, but whatever they were, they caused Abe to slowly drop to his knees and lower his gun on the ground. Then, with the same deliberate motion he put his arms up over his head.
