“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was much more controlled than it had been. “I mean, why are you here?”
“I met with TC2. I already knew about the box. I was familiar with Frank McMillan. I understand Arabic fairly well, and I specialized in itinerant tribes. But you know all this.”
“Jaime. Don’t be difficult.” He was sitting down, leaning back against the wall. “You had been kidnapped and tortured. You purposely accepted the assignment and misled others–including TC2–about the extent of your injuries so they would allow you to come, when they easily could have sent someone else. Why?”
“I was mad as hell at Frank–” she started.
“You helped us nail him, told us exactly where he was and where he was going. Certainly you know there are other more experienced Operatives who could have taken over, could have brought it to successful resolution.”
Why was Yani doing this? Why did he constantly bring up her inexperience? Did he really hate her so much?
“I found the damn box,” she said.
“Yes. And now you’re likely going to die.”
What?
“The cave-in is severe, and my guess is it’s not over. If more sandstone comes down, there won’t be much air. If we survive being crushed, we’ll die from lack of oxygen.”
This wasn’t Yani. He didn’t talk like this.
There was silence for a minute.
“I knew that something like this would happen to me eventually, and I’m prepared. I’m ready to go home. But not with you. You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I’m sorry if my death is interfering with yours. I’ll try to die quietly in the corner. You can pretend I’m not here.” The sarcasm dripped from each word.
“You are so…infuriating,” he said, and she felt some small pride in that accomplishment.
“It must be hard that not everyone worships at the shrine of Sword 23.” Jaime almost drew back. She was close to going too far. Perhaps she already had.
Yani answered, “A year ago when you refused your first assignment ring and quit–quit our relationship, quit being an Operative–at first it was difficult for me to understand. But I came to see that it was for the best. You’re young. Go, marry a rock star who promotes sustainable communities. Model what living in the kingdom of God can look like. Become the coolest chaplain in the Army. Help a lot of people. Make the world a better place.”
Damn him anyway. Why did she feel like he was dismissing her even when he said nice things?
On the other hand, what he said was correct. He had given up a lot for their relationship. He had shared with her private information he didn’t share with everyone. And she had shut him down completely. It couldn’t have been easy on his part, any more than this current rejection was for her.
“The reason I’m here,” she said through gritted teeth, “is because I thought this assignment might be my one and only chance to see you again. I was willing to come all this way after Frank McMillan split my back open on the small chance you might be here. It was stupid on many levels, I know. And I am sincerely sorry if it might have jeopardized the mission at any point.” She was glad they were staring straight ahead, not looking at each other, when she continued.
“But the truth is…” Jaime was working hard to retain her anger. “The truth is, there has been nothing in heaven or on earth that I can do to get you out of my mind. You’re inside of me. Your courage strengthens me. Your passion drives me. When Frank McMillan kidnapped me at gunpoint; told me a good friend had betrayed me; stripped me; and started flaying me with a bullwhip, you were the person I turned to in my mind. I could stand it because I thought you might be proud of me if I did.
“But, as you said, it was stupid of me on every level. I’ll never do it again. If, in fact, I ever do anything again. Bad time to learn my lesson, I realize.” She fought to keep control of her voice. “So, here I am, apparently dying when I’m not supposed to, intruding on your preplanned transition. My bad.”
“You should have stayed with Mark Shepard. You didn’t need to come here to apologize to me. He didn’t betray you, Jaime. He’s a good man.”
“Have you not heard a word I’ve said? I don’t want Mark Shepard. He’s the most wonderful guy in the world, a treasured old friend. We shared a great dinner. He showed me his sustainable farm. We shared a hot tub and massages, and we made out by the fire. And all I could think was, he’s not you. So what I need from you, even if we’re about to die, is for you to tell me it’s all over, from your side. You don’t love me anymore. You don’t want me. Cut me off cleanly, so I can let go.”
Yani didn’t speak. After the longest minute of Jaime’s life, his head jerked up. It was clear he was listening for something. “Look out,” he said.
And then Jaime heard it, too. The roof above them began to shake. As it began, the sound of the helicopter became louder. Much louder–and then began to recede.
The helicopter had taken off.
But who had been in it? What had they wanted? What had happened to Safia?
What had happened to the box?
Then the walls started to close in.
The two of them hit the ground, and rolled together back into the farthest reach of the cave as the space where they had just been filled with rock.
And for the first time, Jaime truly understood that it wasn’t theoretical this time.
She and Yani were about to die.
January 27, 2007, 12:32 p.m.
(2 hours, 2 minutes since end of auction)
Judean wilderness west of the Dead Sea
Israel
* * *
Ever since he had seen his cousin Rashid in the cave above, the Hajj–Omar–had a new sense of purpose.
He was going to climb up, confess his evil thoughts to his cousin, apologize for killing him, and revel together with him in the wonders of their treasure cave.
Omar was going to have another chance at life. He would not be the Hajj, he would be Omar, and he and his cousin would have a secret world of their own. They would be best friends. The years would be kind to them.
It was hard finding handholds in the cliff wall, but sandstone is very porous and sometimes Omar could hollow out enough of a space for his hand, and later his foot, to use as a wedge.
Omar didn’t look down, only up. Up toward the cave, up toward his cousin, up toward a different life.
Omar was so far into his own world that he didn’t hear the roar of the helicopter. He was confused at first that rocks and pebbles began raining down. But he didn’t let them stop him.
Finally, he had to look up when large chunks of cliff began to fall on him. Omar hugged in close to the wall, and most of them fell in a trajectory farther out, away from his precarious hold.
He flattened himself against the cliff wall, and closed his eyes.
Thus he didn’t see the large, sharp rock that fell straight down, landing on his head, shattering his skull.
The surprise, more than the pain, caused him to lose his grip. He was still conscious as he began the free fall into the ravine.
He was flying. As he flew, he saw another body dropping beside him.
It was Rashid.
Omar smiled and stretched out his hand to his cousin as they flew together.
And everything was the way Omar knew it should have been, all along.
January 27, 2007, 12:44 p.m.
(2 hours, 14 minutes since end of auction)
Judean wilderness west of the Dead Sea
Israel
* * *
They now lay in total darkness. No pinpricks of light, no slight breeze.
Jaime and Yani lay together, prone, in a space that barely contained them. She could easily feel the rock on every side. The space was shaped like a coffin: three feet high by four feet wide by six feet long.
Horror gripped her–they had been buried alive.
Jaime had never thought of herself as either afraid of death or claustrophobic. But the f
act that the earth was surrounding her, and pressing down on her, began as a seed of panic in her chest, and it began to spread.
She didn’t care if anyone beat her to death with a whip. She didn’t care if they shot her in the square at Al Qurnah, or drowned her in the sea under the island of Patmos. But she had to get out of here…had to. Had to! She couldn’t stand this. It was closing in all around her, and with Yani pressed beside her, she almost couldn’t breathe.
The panic grew.
She…was…trapped. In a black, airless space that was smothering her.
Jaime began to hyperventilate.
“I have to get out. Help me get out,” was all she could say.
“Jaime.” It was Yani’s voice. His old, recognizable, strong voice. “It’s all right. Don’t panic.”
“We’re…buried…alive. Help me get out! We can’t get out!”
“‘There is nothing either good nor bad, but thinking makes it so.’”
“What a stupid idiot time to quote Hamlet!” She couldn’t help the rebuke.
“Jaime,” he said quietly. “Hush, now. This is perfect. It’s dark and quiet–it’s like the womb of eternal life. Close your eyes. Breathe slowly.” He was stroking her hair. “Remember this one?” he whispered. “‘For I am convinced that there is nothing in death or life, in the realm of spirits or superhuman powers, in the world as it is or the world as it shall be, in the forces of the universe, in heights or depths–nothing in all creation that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’”
She closed her eyes. She knew he was quoting Scripture because it was something familiar to her, something she could wrap her mind around. So that she wouldn’t panic and claw him bloody.
Yani said, “You’re not afraid to die; I know you’re not. We’re both waiting–eager–to meet the Boss, face-to-face. And I’m here with you.”
Her breathing began to calm.
He spoke again, this time words from Isaiah: “‘Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return–’”
It was one of her favorite songs. She finished with him: “‘–and come with singing unto Zion. And everlasting joy shall be upon their heads.’”
The panic was receding. Her breathing was regulating. Still, she didn’t dare open her eyes. How embarrassing was this? The one person on earth she wanted to have know how strong she was, how capable. And when push came to shove, she’d freaked.
“The first time I knew you were different…was the first time I kidnapped you,” Yani said. “Here you were, hours after another kidnap attempt, after seeing your friend killed, sitting in a dark earthen room with a man who could have killed you. And you never lost your presence of mind. Or your wit. The second time I realized how different you were was when I let you out of a headlock and you turned around and walloped me.” He gave a small chuckle. “Not what I expected from a chaplain.”
Jaime’s breathing was nearly back to normal. She knew he was doing this to bring her down, to keep her from panicking. But she was willing to go with it. In her mind she was back in Tallil, meeting the mysterious stranger for the first time.
“‘Go, Rams?’ Honestly,” was all she could say of the first–truly bad–joke he’d told her.
Yani laughed. Then he was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he said, in a tone of voice Jaime had never heard from him before, “The first time I knew how much I loved you…and how deeply I could love you…was in the square at Al Qurnah. It wasn’t the hand grenade, although the fact that you were willing to risk your life to save that little girl was wonderful. It was when an assassin was stalking over to kill you, point-blank…and you were lying there, with an M16 right beside you, and it never even occurred to you to pick it up and shoot back.”
“You mean Rodriguez’s gun?” Jaime thought back to that moment. Truth was, it had never occurred to her that she could have used his gun, to this very moment. She hadn’t been looking to kill anybody. She had been readying herself to die.
If she had done it before, she could obviously do it again.
“The first time I knew I could love you,” she said, “was when we were tied together in Satis’ re-creation of the Tomb. There was a moment…I don’t even know if you remember it. A moment, before we tried the escape, when we just sat there. My head was on your chest. In spite of everything, I felt safe.”
“I do remember,” he said. “Coincidentally, that was the first time I wanted to tear all your clothes off and have my way with you.”
Jaime opened her eyes. She still couldn’t see anything, but he had certainly jarred her out of her panic.
“Yeah, I noticed,” she said. Then she asked, “That was the first time?”
“There have been many,” Yani answered.
“Coincidentally, I could say the same thing.”
Jaime was suddenly very aware of the particulars of her surroundings. There was some kind of wooden board behind her. There were also two or three boxes or ancient containers behind her head, which she easily moved to one side. It seemed like they had taken refuge beneath a shelf.
“Do you think this was some kind of library?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Yani, “I do.” He shifted, changing his position. Then he reached out to her. “Come here.”
Jaime moved closer, and he welcomed her to the strength of his arms. “So…,” she said. “Any other firsts you’d care to tell me about?” Jaime was feeling more in control, more like herself.
“The first time it occurred to me I’d like to marry you was that evening in Eden. When the mystery was solved. When you solved it. What a day that had been. And the sky, the sunset…”
Jaime didn’t hear past the beginning of the sentence. “The first time what?”
“I wanted to marry you. Yes. You think I gave up being a Sword for the fun of it? For a change of pace?”
“I…didn’t know. I thought you and Clement had discussed it…”
“I had many long discussions with my mentor, as well as with Clement. It was a wrenching decision. But I meant it when I told you it had been the right one. Even if there was only a chance, the smallest chance, we could have been a team. Taken on the world.”
Jaime felt a tear running down her cheek.
“And I left you. I blew it,” she said. “Now, we won’t ever have that chance.”
Together they lay in the stillness of the earth, entwined in each other’s arms.
Yani spoke first. “Jaime. Marry me.”
“What?”
“It would mean a lot to me if we were married, in this life, on Earth before we leave. Here. Now. You know a minister we could get on short notice?”
“It wouldn’t be legal in any country or state.”
“It would be legal for us. God as our witness.” He took an impatient breath. “So, would you answer the question?”
“Yani, I…I would be honored to marry you. To be your wife. To be a team, to take on the world. For as long as we’re here. Although…”
“Although what?”
“Well, at least according to Catholic theology, the sacrament isn’t complete unless the marriage has been consummated.” There was teasing in her voice.
“I did have plans along those lines,” said Yani.
Here?
“I’d prefer Hawaii, but it doesn’t seem to be an option.”
“Wouldn’t that…use up a lot of our oxygen?” Jaime asked.
“Absolutely. Assuming we do it right.”
As if, with Yani, there could be any other way. “Do you think we can even get our clothes off?”
“It will be a challenge,” said Yani with a smile in his voice. And it was the voice, the attitude–the Yani–she recognized.
“My cloth of honor won’t exactly be stained.”
“It wouldn’t be expected of you,” he said. “You’ve been married before. As have I.”
“You have?” Jaime realized how much, how very much, she didn’t know about Yani. She didn’t care. She knew who he
was. That was enough.
“My wife died…a long time ago,” he said.
“I wish I could have known her,” Jaime said. “She must have really been something if you fell for her.”
“She was. She was a TC. I was a young Operative.”
“So you don’t mind strong women.”
“Obviously not. Although it did take me a very long time to run into someone else who stubbornly wouldn’t get out of my head–or out of my heart. You know, we might not have much time. Is that minister here yet?”
Despite all the wedding services she had done, it had never occurred to Jaime that she might someday perform her own. But she smiled and began, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the presence of God, and this cloud of witnesses–” A strange thought, given that he was tugging off her galabia as she spoke. She felt him kissing her, the skin of her stomach, his strong hands gently removing the cloth over her head, away from her injured back, and she cut to the chase.
“I, Jaime, take you, Yani, to be my husband; and I promise to be your loving and faithful wife, in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow; in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live. And all my fortunes at thy feet I’ll lay, and follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.”
Yani paused from his task and said, “Romeo and Juliet?”
“Hey. You can quote Hamlet, I can go for R and J. Just always wanted to say that.”
“I, Yani, take you, Jaime,” this was punctuated by kisses up the center of her breastbone as he unwound the bandages that bound her, “to be my wife. And I promise before God to be your loving and faithful husband,” his kisses, following the contours of her breasts, were becoming more urgent and his breathing more shallow, “in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health–”
Jaime’s own breath was getting ragged, but in a new and different way. She could feel him lighting up every inch of her body; her back was scraping against the back of the cave, and she readjusted with his help, helping dispense with his trousers as he removed hers, and finally rolling on top of him.
“I will be your partner, seeking to live with you in the fullness of the kingdom God means to establish on earth, wherever and however that shall be,” he ended.
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