The Jewel of Babylon (The Unusual Operations Division Book 1)

by Jacob Hammes

  “The crime rate on the side of town John was seen in is high enough,” Henry admitted. “But these new murders were committed in the same fashion and in a district of the city where hardly anyone has ever seen a violent crime.”

  “Doubtful, but I like it,” Marcus said, pondering the possibilities. “If it is John’s handiwork, maybe we can get a jump on him. A break in this case would do us some good.”

  “I agree. I don’t see anyone nabbing this guy anytime soon, the way he’s going.” Henry must have been tired. His usual upbeat attitude seemed to have left him for the time being. “If we don’t draw a bead on him soon he has the possibility of harming more innocent people.”

  The two spoke quietly for an hour or so, deliberating amongst themselves over the best way to catch the man who had become their main study. It would only be a matter of time before something came of the Relic John was holding. Cases in the past showed that when the person holding the Relic was not captured and rid of the thing in time they would eventually go completely insane and start killing at random. Either that or he would start bleeding from his nose, ears, and eyes in the most violent stroke ever.

  Marcus had never actually encountered a case like this before. His cases were usually within one state, at least the same country, and ended when the man or woman affected by the Relic lost their touch with reality. They generally died via cop while stabbing random people in a mall or driving a vehicle into a crowd of pedestrians.

  Henry looked up over Marcus’ shoulder. Something gave him the sneaking impression they were being stalked. As predicted, Cynthia and Phillip were side by side staring at them. Phillip was holding the book open to a particular page while Cynthia stood triumphantly, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. The look on her face was an I-knew-I’d-find-it sort of look and she was looking down the sights of the lecture pistol. Marcus and Henry just happened to be in her sights.

  “They’re researching the thingy,” Marcus said in a hushed voice to Henry, twirling his hand around in a circle for extra emphasis. Henry nodded, stifling a laugh at the look on Marcus’ face. It was a mix of horror and disappointment.

  “We just figured you’d want to hear something important,” Phillip said. Apparently the quiet tone he had used was not quite enough. “Like the Jewel of Babylon was the creation of a man named Nebuchadnezzar: the tyrannical King of Babylon.”

  Marcus liked the sound of that; Tyrannical King of Babylon. At least the man had a title that could not be matched. Maybe he would adopt it; Tyrannical Ruler of the UOD. Then again, Marcus did not have the heart to be a tyrannical anything, nor the authority for that matter.

  “What’s next,” he said aloud. “Neptune’s Trident?”

  Chapter 11

  An hour later and the team had been assembled in the larger, more luxurious part of the plane. Even Brenda found it in herself to hobble her way down the narrow aisle, ice pack wrapped around her swollen ankle like some blue tumor emerging from the bruised skin. If she was in pain, she did not show it.

  A satellite link to Washington, D.C., had been established and Gregory Scott, who apparently had not left the office once since the incident began, appeared on a 42 inch monitor at the head of the table. His look had not changed a bit. He did not even look tired, just motivated. Marcus admired the way Greg could go days without sleeping, or even drinking coffee, and still look the same. He thought for a minute that maybe it was because he was always tired; always ugly…

  Marcus wiped the jealousy from his mind. It was time for business.

  “Morning everyone,” he said in his usual, I’m-your-boss tone. “We have some bad news. I’m sorry to hear about your bad day but it may get worse. Ever since that multi-million dollar helicopter was blown out of the sky and a man lost his life, I’ve been getting an earful from the Department of Defense. They want to pull us off the case.”

  Marcus felt a cold pit form in his stomach. After what he had experienced in the cave, he would be a little more than just upset to be dumped now.

  “The DOD wants us to give them a few reasons why we should remain on the case. After all, I can’t blame them. Since our inception, we’ve never had a case take us across so much land that only dealt with one person and one relic. I have my own doubts this guy has gone crazy, in fact I’m starting to believe he may be wrapped up in some sort of espionage.

  “A few hours ago, two more murders were reported from a restaurant in Xian, China; the city where John was seen by our agent Jeff Chang. The locals say they have seen an American man, who had been visiting the restaurant frequently over the last few weeks, return yesterday afternoon and they have not seen him since.

  “I’m telling you now we are to investigate the site and head home. The local government will want any assistance we can give but from here on out, we are dealing with a case in which we will be playing the helping hand. You should give the local government and Jeff Chang any information you can and they will find the man and bring him to justice. The Relic will be in capable hands.

  “Truthfully, the only reason we aren’t bringing you straight home is because the satellite was pinged again about four hours ago in the location of the restaurant.

  “The rules were passed down by the DOD meaning my hands are somewhat tied. However, if you happen to see John or get a good lead on him, you’ll be in the clear. Take him down, interrogate him, bring him in and we can see whether or not he is into some sort of espionage or if he is truly being controlled by this Relic.”

  “Maybe it’s both,” Cynthia said before anyone else could. She stood up with the book she had found. “We found this book explaining what the Jewel of Babylon is. I think it may be different than any of the other cases we’ve experienced.”

  “That seems a bit obvious, but do tell the rest,” Gregory said. He was listening intently. Even though Gregory did not want to lose the case, the health, morale and welfare of his team was all important to him. Legitimately unusual or not, it was Gregory’s responsibility to stop the murdering psychopath. It was especially important to him because their pay depended upon it. The more cases they researched and solved, the more they got paid. It was like working off commission, except you could die along the way.

  “The Jewel of Babylon has another name,” Cynthia said. “It is also known as the Sphere of Nebuchadnezzar. The book suggests that it was made by the king himself during the Neo-Babylonian Empire, about 600 B.C. Its legend is that the King killed thousands of people in the name of this orb trying to find the name of God through alchemy.”

  “Name magic and alchemy have nothing to do with each other, do they?” David asked from the back of the table. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Alchemy,” Marcus started to explain, “is the science of divining something called the First Element. It’s been hypothesized that the First Element and the true name of God are the same. See, the First Element is the void from before time. It’s the speck from which the big bang occurred, the primordial ooze that created everything. It’s the building block of all life. Or so alchemists believe.

  “At the same time, if you can control God by knowing his true name you can control the same elements. See, when an exorcist casts a demon from a body the first thing he divines is the demon’s true name. Why? Because once the name is given, the demon can be controlled if given the proper prodding. It’s confusing, but generally they’re the same. Control that which made everything and control everything that was made.”

  “Exactly,” Cynthia continued. “Now the legend springs up around the fact that the king had created huge aqueduct systems throughout the region thereby creating one of the largest and most profitable nations of the ancient world. As kings and pharos of the time were known for, he used slave labor to create a kingdom that would stretch across the entire Middle East. He was just as much of a dictator as anyone else,” she said.

  “Thousands must have died making those aqueducts and building huge temples. According to the myth, and in true Vlad the Imp
aler style, ol’ King Nebby bathed the components of the orb in the blood of the tortured souls his priests had sacrificed in hopes of summoning the Keeper of Names; an ancient demon by the name of Bezael.

  “The myth that Nebuchadnezzar was using the golden sphere to contact otherworldly beings most likely spawns from the fact that it showed up at nearly every execution he had ordered. It is seen in one depiction in the book on top of a scepter, and in another being held by someone that looks like a slave. Along with the fact that Babylon is cursed in about every biblical way, the golden orb undoubtedly spawned some rumors. That means all the information we were given about the demon Bezael and his attempt at finding the ‘god element’ are probably false. Maybe Nebuchadnezzar just liked to keep his gold close by,” she concluded.

  “The book here says that King Nebuchadnezzar was dealing with pretty dark magic, killing people at random for the sake of some higher power. However, if he was dealing with the occult, we could explain why the king went crazy. It’s widely known throughout the art history community that often times ancient alchemists used mercury in early attempts at contacting the gods. Because of its shiny properties, it was thought to be a direct conduit to the other side. They thought the metal was a gateway to the afterlife and because it is highly poisonous and also volatile they often felt the after effects of the spells in violent and deadly ways.”

  There was some shifting in the seats as the team digested this little tidbit of information.

  “If you didn’t know, mercury accumulates in the brain causing something like dementia with prolonged exposure. It doesn’t matter what age you are or what you eat, if you have mercury in your blood you can be guaranteed that you will end up going nuts. It’s possible he suffered from severe mercury poisoning. Either way, it doesn’t excuse his erratic behavior.”

  She paused for a breath before going on.

  “At the end of his reign, the King went missing for seven years and when he finally showed up, he was dethroned. The people of his country had lost faith in him and, though they didn’t kill him, decided it was time to go in a new direction. Even his family shunned him; they too thought that he had gone nuts.”

  Cynthia flipped the pages of the book to a dog eared section she had obviously been looking over. Phillip shuffled anxiously nearby, hoping she would hurry along to what he obviously thought was the most exciting part of the story.

  “Another item was made along with the orb, before the king went missing,” Cynthia was wrapping up. “It is called the Piercing Eye of God. It was a knife with a curved blade and though the book tells what happened to the Jewel of Babylon and how it came to Afghanistan, it just says that the Piercing Eye of God was lost when the Russians took Berlin at the end of the Second World War.

  “It’s a good thing they weren’t together.”

  “So,” Gregory said, “You think it’s worth it to find the Jewel of Babylon?”

  “It can’t hurt,” Marcus said. “It seems like a pretty powerful piece either way. The thing must be strong and it did ping our satellite. Plus, it has a strong willed SpecOps agent running rampant on a wild killing spree.”

  “True,” Gregory said. “I can’t stave off the government for long, though and we are well out of our jurisdiction. We also don’t have any proof that this guy is being controlled or has even had a mental breakdown. I fear that if he makes another appearance we are going to be called off the case and you’ll be pulled back to Washington faster than any of us like,” he said grimly.

  “Get to those crime scenes, get some conclusive evidence together, and if at all possible get our man. I did not expect you to be travelling around the world over the next few days and for that I apologize but your stay won’t be long; you’ve got 48 hours max.”

  “We’ll only need five,” Marcus said.

  Chapter 12

  The plane touched down at Xi’an Xianyang International Airport, China, with special permission from the local government at 430 in the morning. Though the city itself was home to only about two million people, the surrounding provinces and rural areas brought the population to around eight million. Marcus did not realize the city was so large. When he imagined a city of two million people, he imagined something like Tampa bay, not all of its surrounding areas, including Orlando and Jacksonville. Nor did he take into account the fact that the surrounding areas brought the population of the city to eight million people on busy workdays.

  The team had gotten a few hours of well-deserved rest along the way and was ready to go when the tires touched the tarmac. Local temperature was just above freezing and it was still dark leaving the team wondering what to wear.

  They could not walk around a city in United States Armed Forces attire without attracting attention and hopefully had no need for the bulky body armor.

  Brenda was happy. Knowing that she would not be leaving the confines of the plane, she had taken it upon herself to get comfortable. She may have been the only one to pack a set of loose fitting pajamas. They were flannel and, to the envy of the team, the smile that crossed her lips told everyone that she was very comfortable.

  Marcus was admittedly jealous. He wished he could sit around and control communications this morning. He did not look forward to dealing with Jeff Chang, the agent that had been on the ground during the time of the street attack, or with the store owner. He did not know the language and would be relying on Chang for all of his translations making the entire ordeal inconvenient. If it was one thing he hated, it was that people could communicate in front of his face and he had no clue what they were saying.

  He managed to wrangle up some black tactical fatigue bottoms and a gray, tight fitting t-shirt. Henry was suddenly the most liked man in the team when he presented an entire crate of gray, fluffy parkas. The warmth they provided made everyone feel better and the cover it would provide for the hidden weapons they would all be carrying was reassuring, as well.

  “I figured it’d get cold,” Henry said. “And if it wasn’t, I brought a crate of swimming trunks for the guys and thong bikinis for the women.”

  “Not funny,” Brenda said from somewhere behind him. He acted surprised, patted Marcus on the back and walked back into the communications area.

  “My name’s Jeff, Jeff Chang,” Jeff Chang said, pushing his hand into Marcus’, then Stephen’s, and finally into David’s. He was noticeably upset at having to show up two hours earlier than their agreed upon time. They had made their way down to an old black car where they had enough distance between themselves and the work to speak at a normal volume. To Marcus, Jeff seemed much too anxious to be any help on the case. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, Marcus.”

  “Thanks, Jeff,” Marcus said, acting flattered.

  Jeff did not look extraordinary at all. He was distinctly Asian, dark hair and dark eyes, stood about 5’11”, and wore an unremarkable suit and tie that were as gray as the overcast sky. Marcus wondered what he was hiding behind that keen smile that had made him an agent with the UOD. Like everyone employed by the Department of Defense’s subsidiary company, the UOD, he had to have some specific skill or state of mind that made him of particular use.

  The Asian looked nervously around from face to face for a moment waiting for something to happen before speaking again.

  “I guess I’ll wait in the car until you’re all ready?” He was definitely nervous.

  “Sure,” Marcus said blandly. “I’ll get everything together and we’ll be right there.”

  Jeff turned around without another word and jumped in the driver’s seat of the black Buick four-door sedan. He was literally parked on the side of the runway and with the special permission he had been given, no one bothered looking in their direction. The local government must have wanted the killing spree to stop just as much as the UOD.

  “This will be fun,” Marcus said to himself as he studied the man from outside the vehicle.

  A few minutes later and all the electromagnetic detectors, Geig
er counters, electrical pressure sensors and computers had been packed into the back of the car along with Stephen and David. Cynthia, being the only one out of the group that spoke Mandarin, and Bishop were off to the scene of the double murder to see if they could get any leads on their man.

  Marcus had taken what Gregory said to heart. The team had forty eight hours to find the culprit of this murder spree and apprehend the man before they had to leave country. He had every intention of making good on his promise of not needing more than five, but it was a daunting task.

  The Buick was off the moment the three sat their butts in the seats. Wheels peeled out on the slick blacktop as the car jetted off down the large expanse of runway toward the nearest gate and Jeff was talking a hundred miles an hour. Marcus tuned him out, looked out the window, and tried to enjoy the scenery of a city he had never heard of, let alone seen, before today.

  All four of the agents in the vehicle noticed the unmarked police vehicle following them. He was thankful that the government had not spared enough of its staff to follow Cynthia and Bishop; God only knew what trouble they would be getting into.

  Chapter 13

  John was starting to feel the effects of his sleepless nights. His body felt as if it were on auto pilot as he walked slowly down the sidewalk. He was having trouble seeing where he was going through his hazy vision. The Host that seemed to be controlling him more fully every minute was even starting to find his legs wobbly against the fatigue. He was human, after all, and whether or not this thing inside of him knew it his body would eventually quit.

  The airport was just opening but no one was there. The cabs that usually lined the sidewalks of the terminals were all gone and just a pair of men stood outside chatting over a cigarette. A black Buick was the only car he had seen in the area this morning, driving past him toward the direction he had come. It would be nice to have a vehicle at this time of the morning. It must be warm and comfortable inside the car, even though it looked cramped with so many men.