CHAPTER 24
Ur
The longer he labored on, the more blood Terah lost. He grew light-headed. Though he continued to pray and felt grateful for having discovered the cave, thankful to be alive, and glad he’d found the post—awkward as it was—he could not imagine why one of his servants had not come looking for him. Had he not been clear he was just out walking and would be back? Where could they think he had gone?
The fire near the livestock pen still blazed, so they had not abandoned their posts. Could not one have stayed with the animals and the other ventured out to look for him? His servants were loyal. He was good to them, some would even say generous. They had no reason to treat him with such disrespect.
When Terah finally drew close enough that he should be able to be seen in the distance, he leaned the wood post against his body and waved with his good arm. One of his servants—he looked tall enough to be Wedum—appeared as if he was poking something into the fire. A stick? Some brush? It ignited, and the young man stood, waving back at his master.
Now Terah was sure it was Wedum. Why would he mock me this way? Can he not see I am beckoning him? The makeshift flaming torch continued to arc back and forth. He dares summon me? And where is Mutuum? Surely the animals have not also been attacked by the wild dogs.
Terah resolved not to give up so close to home. He’d made it this far, and clearly no help was coming. He hoisted the post, propelled it with his knee, and gingerly set out once more. When he finally came within earshot of Wedum, Terah called out, “Come to me, man! I am injured!” But his voice was weak, pathetic. So he resorted to just crying “Help!” with each step.
Finally his servant came running, the burning baton in his hand. “Master, what is it? What’s happened to you?”
“Now you wonder, Wedum? Did you not worry when I had not returned in due time?”
“I did, and I was about to leave Mutuum with the livestock and come look for you. But he was called away by the midwife. And I knew you would not want me to leave the animals, especially with the dogs—”
“The dogs nearly killed me! You favor my livestock over me?”
“A thousand pardons, master! I did not know!”
“And was the midwife for my wife?”
“No! Mutuum’s wife is about to give birth. She might have already. Let me help you, master. The animals are safe for the night.”
“Which midwife is tending to his wife?”
“Yadidatum, the one whose son is imprisoned.”
“And likely to lose a hand.”
“She is terrified, master. The last thief bled to death.”
“Which I will do if you don’t get me home.”
“I’ll leave the fire burning to ward off the dogs, and I’ll take you the rest of the way in the cart.”
“Very well, but we must be very quiet. I do not want Belessunu to wake and see me like this.”
“Where did the dogs overtake you, sir?”
“In the plains,” Terah said. The cave would remain his secret.
“And how were you able to overpower them?”
“I was imbued with strength from on high,” Terah said.
“Glory to the gods you were not hurt worse.”
CHAPTER 25
Queens, New York
LaGuardia was busy enough without this delay. Today of all days, Ben Berman had to let a jumbo jet empty all its other passengers before he disembarked? What was the point of his obsession with never checking a bag, even when traveling internationally, if the time he saved by not having to wait at baggage claim was devoured this way?
And why would Nicole send someone for him he didn’t even know? It made sense she didn’t want to leave her mother, and he wouldn’t have asked her to. But no one at the foundation was available? Oh yeah. It was Saturday. Still, send a car. He would find the driver displaying his name at the airport exit, and off they’d go. How hard could that be?
But no. A flight attendant told him to wait, and Nicole was just as mysterious. Good thing she got back to him, though, because his mind had leapt to the worst scenario—something had gone terribly wrong and he’d lost the love of his life. “Thank You,” he said silently, “Lord my God, King of the universe.”
Was it just him or were people taking twice as long as usual to gather their belongings and get off the plane? Emptying first class alone seemed to take forever, but coach looked like the Triboro Bridge at five p.m.
Ben stopped the flight attendant who had given him the message as she rushed by. “I have to be last off, is that it?”
“Matter of fact, someone’s coming on to get you.”
“What, I don’t look able to walk or—?”
“That’s all I was told, Dr. Berman. Sorry. Police procedure, I guess.”
“Police?”
“A detective with a long, funny name.” She pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket and showed him.
“And you have no idea what this is about?”
“Sorry, I don’t.”
Enough of this. Ben dialed Nicole. The call went to her voice mail. “Nic, why am I being picked up by a cop? You said your mom was stable. I want to know what’s going on. Call me as soon as you get this.”
CHAPTER 26
Ur
Terah’s servant, Wedum, suggested his master sit and wait while he fetched the donkey-drawn cart from near the livestock pen. Terah tentatively lowered himself till he could reach the ground with his good hand, but as soon as he sat, sharp pain from the dog bite in his hindquarter drove him back. But he put too much weight on his bad ankle and toppled. Unable to cushion the fall with his shoulder-bit side, he hit hard, banging his head on the stony ground again.
He cried out in agony, but Wedum was jogging to the cart and apparently heard none of this. Terah lay motionless, wondering what he had done to so offend the gods and what more they had in store for him. He painfully rolled to his other side and struggled to his knees among sharp rocks. All he wanted was to rest a moment, supporting himself with any body part not raw with injury. That meant only his unbitten right buttock, however with a bleeding left shoulder and a broken or sprained right ankle—not to mention lacerations and contusions nearly everywhere else—Terah was unable to find relief in any posture but standing. So he fought to rise with only his left ankle. While the bottoms of his feet had been protected by his sandals, his legs were so weary they trembled.
So Terah stood, keeping as much weight as possible off his throbbing lower back. He felt on the verge of passing out when Wedum reappeared with his noisily shambling cart.
“There is no room next to you,” Terah said. “And I cannot sit anyway. You must help me into the back.”
Wedum situated the cart close, but the back of the wagon consisted merely of a shallow box intended to carry firewood or small game. No way would Terah be able to lie in it or sit on its edge. All he could hope was to kneel and steady himself with his one good hand. Awkward and uncomfortable as this would be, he welcomed anything that got him off his feet for the rest of this torturous trek.
Wedum tried lifting and guiding Terah into the back of the wagon. But after several attempts, Terah said, “You must get down and let me use you as a platform.”
Wedum immediately dropped to all fours. Terah held tight to his servant’s shirt as he forced his left foot onto his calf, then pulled himself onto the man’s back. Desperately gripping the side of the wagon bed, Terah ordered Wedum to slowly rise. He felt as if he were about to fall, but as soon as the top half of his body was above the lip of the cart, he shifted his weight and somehow managed to drop into the wagon. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see his own body parts strewn about. Wedum helped him kneel, facing the front. “Master, you’re bleeding more.”
“I know. We must hurry. And stop well short of the house. The cart is too noisy, and when you try to extract me, I might cry out.”
With the donkey’s first jolting step, the wagon lurched, Terah lost his grip, and he collapsed onto his back, lacerating
the back of his head on the rear edge of the wagon bed. Dizziness and ringing in his ears made him fear losing consciousness. He was so exhausted he could not move. Wedum scrambled back to help him up. “This time hold my collar. I will do whatever I can to keep the donkey from jerking.”
Terah, drained of strength and muscle, felt like a hunk of flesh trying to keep from disintegrating into a puddle. All his weight again rested on his tender knees in the uneven cart, and he desperately gripped Wedum’s shirt at the neck. The servant gently brushed the donkey’s back with a twig and made clicking noises. The animal slowly stepped off, but even the gentle sway of the cart nearly pitched Terah back again. His death grip threatened to choke Wedum.
The cart jostled along like some giant wooden turtle, slowing wending its way toward Terah’s house where a torch burned on the wall outside. About twenty yards from of the entrance, Terah patted Wedum’s shoulder and said, “This will do.”
Working together to get Terah out and to the ground took as long as loading him had. “I am sorry I cannot walk on my own,” he whispered. “If you can get me inside without a sound …”
“Certainly, master.”
Terah had no idea what spooked the donkey, but it brayed insufferably. “Oh no,” Terah said. “You must keep him from doing that again.”
Wedum propped Terah against the side of the cart and went around the front to face the animal. “He appears calm,” the servant whispered. “Perhaps a lizard skittered past.” He placed his hands on the beast’s jowls and turned its face directly to his. Wedum rested his chin above the donkey’s nose and appeared to force the animal’s head down. “You must be quiet,” he said.
Terah feared that any second the donkey would use its brutal strength and powerful jaw to snap at Wedum and rip his face apart. But the man seemed to have a way with it. The donkey repositioned his forelegs and stood stock-still.
Terah was overcome with gratitude to Wedum for his help, but did not want to express it inappropriately. Wedum had no choice but to serve him, and yet Terah could tell he was more than willing, and that obligation seemed to play no part in his kindness. “Take me to the donkey,” he said.
“To the donkey, master?”
“Yes.”
Wedum looked puzzled. “Very well.” He stuck his head under Terah’s good arm and wrapped that arm over his shoulder, supporting him with his back. “Remember, he is not as familiar with you, so stay clear of those enormous teeth.”
“Oh, of that you may be sure,” Terah said. “Hold me up.”
Wedum grasped Terah’s waist and supported him as he leaned toward the donkey’s long neck. He caressed the coarse mane and spoke soothingly. “I want to thank you, and your master, for your service to me in my distress. I appreciate it more than you know.”
When he turned back to let Wedum help him walk again, the servant was chuckling. “That’s the only time I have ever been called a master, master. I appreciate your compassion for my four-legged servant.”
“You are welcome,” Terah said. “Now let us fall silent until I am inside.”
CHAPTER 27
Queens
Ben Berman didn’t mind shabby. He appreciated people comfortable in their own skin—and clothes—and NYPD Detective George Wojciechowski was certainly that. The plainclothes cop kept having to hike up his pants, but he clearly knew his business and seemed to care not a whit what anyone else thought of him.
“My wife—?” Ben said as soon as Wojciechowski identified himself.
The detective held up a hand. “Just got word she’s awake, so you’ll be able to see her soon’s we get there.”
“You know my next question.”
“’Course. What am I doin’ here? Let’s talk as we walk. My guy’s waitin’ at the curb outside baggage claim.”
“And this is all I have,” Ben said, indicating his computer case and the large soft leather bag over his shoulder.
“Hold on,” Wojciechowski said as they stepped off the plane. “That’s all you took to Paris?”
“I travel light.”
“I’ll say. How long were you s’posed to be there?”
“Six days. Till Wednesday.”
Wojciechowski cocked his head. “Runnin’ your big foundation, you must travel overseas a lot.”
Ben nodded.
“You gotta know light travelers look suspicious.”
“Yeah, but we drug runners know what customs agents look for.”
“Gotta tell ya, Berman, now’s not the time you wanna be cute.”
“How would I know? My daughter tells me my wife’s stable, yet you meet me at the airport. What am I supposed to think? Somebody break into the foundation? Embezzle from me? What?”
“You’ve been in touch with your daughter?”
“Of course. Had to know what was going on.”
“What’d she tell you?”
“Texted me her mom was stable, that’s all. Good to hear, but it doesn’t explain, you know—you.”
Wojciechowski filled him in as they moved through the crowded terminal. Eager to get to his wife, Ben weaved through slowpokes and those who spilled into his way from the crowds frequenting food kiosks. But he had to keep slowing to accommodate the stocky cop at least a decade his junior. “I can see where your daughter gets her height,” the detective huffed. “Bear with me.”
By the time Ben heard the full account, they were on the escalator down to the exit. As they passed baggage claim, Ben saw through the windows the squad car idling at the head of the taxi line, red and white roof lights flashing. “Cabbies must love that,” Ben said.
As they emerged, Wojciechowski said, “I’m gonna sit in back with you. Security glass makes it hard for us to talk otherwise. And my guy’s not a bellhop, so toss your stuff on the seat.” As Ben opened the door, he waved apologetically at the line of cabs. Some drivers rolled down their windows and profanely insisted the cop car move out of the way. Wojciechowski waved at them too, but with only one finger.
When he slid into the other side of the back seat, the uniformed patrolman behind the wheel said through the Plexiglas, “Careful, boss, that could be on the Internet already.”
“You know what you can do with the Internet, Carl,” Wojciechowski said, making the driver laugh. The detective turned to Ben. “When we get there, Carl’s gonna have to let us out.”
“I know. No inside handles. Learned that as a teenager.”
“Bad boy, were ya?”
“Couple of back-seat rides, yep,” Ben said.
“Only things on your record are misdemeanors. Kept your nose clean since, far as we can tell. Just wonderin’ how you happened to be on the other side of the globe when your wife gets attacked.”
“Well, I sure didn’t plan it that way.”
“You planned it?”
“You know what I mean, Detective. Any time I leave my wife I worry about her. We’re careful. That’s why we live in a secure building. This is the kind of news any husband dreads.”
“Assuming …”
“Assuming what?”
“Assuming you had nothin’ to do with it. If you didn’t, help me clear ya so we can move on.”
“’Scuse me, boss,” Carl said. “Gonna be just as bad going this way. At least an hour. Thanks, MTA.”
“On a Saturday?” Ben said. “Usually takes me twenty, twenty-five minutes. What’s going on?”
“Besides all the tunnel stuff,” Wojciechowski said, “Mets got an early afternoon home game. But we can use the time. Talk this through with me.”
Ben shook his head. “I watch true crime shows. I get what you have to do. I just always wondered how it would feel, having to prove your innocence.”
“You always wondered about that?”
“Don’t make it into something it’s not. Just learning what’s really happened to my wife and before I can process it, I have to defend myself. You must do this enough that you can put yourself in my shoes.”
“Ha! I wish I was suspect
ed of doin’ away with my first wife!” Wojciechowski said. “I couldn’t afford to have it done, so she’s still drinkin’ from the alimony spigot and leavin’ me with barely enough to live on. I wish to high heaven she’d marry some other sucker and let me up, know what I mean?”
“Well, that doesn’t happen to be the case with me. I met Ginny when I got back from Nam, and she was literally my salvation. I owe her everything.”
“Wait, back up. Your dad owned The Berman Foundation before you, right?”
“Right.”
“So what was a rich kid doin’ in Nam? You that much of a patriot?”
“Hardly. At least not then. It was all about making a statement, sticking it to my parents, running from the family business.”
“But now you run the family business! What happened? Losin’ half your hand wake you up?”
Ben shook his head. “Ginny did.”
“Tell me more. Where’d you meet?”
“Rehab center, not far from here, actually.”
“And how long ago was this?”
“It was ’74.”
“We were still fightin’ in ’74?”
“Sure. Last battle was ’75.”
“Sorry, man,” Wojciechowski said. “Some luck, getting injured that late, eh?”
“You play the cards you’re dealt.”
“So you meet Virginia …”
Ben told how he had been anything but religious, rather a nonpracticing Jew. “Ginny was a born-againer, you know.”
“Got a few in the department,” Wojciechowski said. “Pretty sure they see me as a project. I’m what they call a lapsed Catholic, so to them I’m a lost cause either way. That’s how your wife saw you, did she?”
Ben nodded.
“Okay, so she’s, what, a nurse in this rehab—”
“Volunteer, actually. Her church group came a couple of times a week just to read to us, talk to us, that kind of thing.”
“You couldn’t have been there long. I mean, you suffered a nasty wound, but they operate, you rehab, and you go home, right?”
“The hand was pretty bad. Just the thumb left, as you can see. It took more than one operation, and then there was the emotional thing.”
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