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Tuesday afternoon
November 8 — 6:18 a.m. PDT
Oceanside, California
“Sheba!”
Still asleep, the word blasted into Alex’s ears before she realized that she’d even answered her cell phone.
“Mitch?” Alex asked.
She looked across the bed to see that John was long gone. She rolled onto her side. John had left her a note telling her to sleep.
“Who’d you think?” US Army Captain Mitchel Morrison asked.
In some convoluted way, Mitch was a direct descendant of the actor John Wayne. If the actor has shoulder-length hair and a long, bushy beard, Mitch could double for the actor. Mitch’s voice was nearly the same as the actor’s.
“Solomon?” Alex asked. Mitch laughed.
She sat up on the bed. When they were in SF training, Mitch used to ask her nearly every day: “Who the fuck do you think you are, the Queen of Sheba?” A year in, and he called her “Sheba Hargreaves.” When they graduated, he’d given her a heart-shaped frame with a famous picture of the Queen and her King Solomon.
“While you were getting your beauty rest,” Mitch said. “And I must thank you for that, Sheba.”
“For getting my beauty rest?” Alex laughed.
Mitch snorted a laugh and continued.
“ . . .we hardworking berets were looking for a few squids who washed up in the Oxus River,” Mitch said. “It was my understanding that your lazy butt is behind the order, Sheba.”
Alex grinned at the “lazy butt.” Some of the men used to call her “lazy butt” in SF training because they were usually lying around complaining while she was working out or studying. Of course, Jesse still called her a lazy butt.
“And?” Alex asked.
“We found them,” Mitch said. “Abandoned hospital, just as you suggested.”
“On the old Farkhor Air Base?” Alex asked. “Tajikistan?”
“Yep,” Mitch said. “They were inserted at Khojaghar and got there a couple nights ago. They felt like it was defendable, so they stayed at the hospital. I have to tell you though, the airport and this place are pretty creepy. It’s like a ghost town in the middle of a bunch of farms. We landed at the airport and spread out. The squids were in the empty hospital.”
“Did you find all sixteen?” Alex asked.
“Every last one of them,” Mitch said.
“No DUSTWUN?” Alex asked.
“Not that I could tell,” Mitch said. “But they are Navy. You never know.”
“Injuries?” Alex asked with a smile.
“Some,” Mitch said. “They’ve moved mostly orthopedic from traveling at night. Broken ankle, stuff like that. I gave the daddy the pictures of his newborn like you asked. He cried like a baby. They’re pretty happy to be found.”
“Thanks, Mitch,” Alex said.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but these guys are really pissed,” Mitch said. “They were assigned to go to nowhere Afghanistan in the middle of the fucking winter. There was nothing there. Some broken bases to columns, but otherwise, nada. They were left hanging.”
“Surprising, isn’t it?” Alex scowled. “We’re looking into that.”
“Hey, I heard you were dead or didn’t exist or something,” Mitch said.
“Someone wants to take my beret,” Alex said.
“I’d rather die, too,” Mitch said. “Good choice.
“I thought so,” Alex said. “Thanks for your help.”
“Easy. We’re assigned nearby,” Mitch said. “Gave us something to do other than tracking the Taliban.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” Alex said.
“Stay alive, Alex,” Mitch said. “This crazy military needs good folks like you.”
“You, too,” Alex said.
“You’re making me all misty,” Mitch said. “Out.”
Alex clicked off the phone. She was about to get up when she thought she’d lie down for just one more minute. She woke up two hours later with a single thought on her mind.
What was really going on?
F
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Tuesday evening
November 8 — 5:45 p.m. PDT
San Diego, California
Alex jogged down the boardwalk to a cement bench and sat down. MJ was sitting in a lawn chair behind her. Vince, with his toddler in a stroller, stopped next to her bench and began to do bodyweight exercise. Raz was watching though binoculars from the roof of the home behind her.
She was meeting with Joseph to see if they could determine what they knew.
“I was hoping to speak with you,” the man said in accented English.
Alex looked up to see a small, frail elderly man. His thin dark brown hair matched his dark brown eyes. Out of place on the beach, he wore an expensive thirty-year-old camel-colored suit. His tie was tucked into the plaid vest. He had an old-world European sense about him down to his leather formal shoes. When he smiled, she knew he was a spy — of what denomination, she wasn’t sure. But the man was definitely a spy.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Alex said. “I’m waiting for a friend. And . . .”
Over the man’s shoulder, she saw Vince working his mobile device to see if he could determine who the man was.
“I am of no danger to you, Lieutenant Colonel,” the man said. “I come in peace to tell you a story that I’m certain you’ll want to hear.”
“Do I know you?” Alex asked.
“I sincerely doubt it,” the man said.
The man gestured to the bench. Alex glanced to Vince. He looked up from his device and nodded.
“I can’t place your accent,” Alex said.
“Romanian,” he said. “Do you speak it?”
Alex thought for a moment before nodding.
“It’s been a long time,” Alex said. She switched to what she thought might be Romanian. “Would you like to sit down?”
The man smiled. With a nod, he sat next to her. Cold, she tucked her hands into her pockets. The setting sun had painted the horizon with brilliant colors of orange, yellow, and blue.
“Would you mind if I smoke?” the man asked.
He took out a worn and stained pipe and a leather bag of tobacco. His eyes lit up.
“It’s against the law,” Alex said. “They’ve banned all smoking on the boardwalk and beaches. They’re pretty vigilant about it.”
“At my age, I can’t take too much tobacco,” the man said with a smile. “I will be done before they come with the chains and billy clubs.”
Alex shrugged in the direction of his pipe. He smiled in acknowledgement. In a few moments, white puffs of sweet tobacco smoke came from his pipe.
“It’s a wonderful smell,” Alex said in Romanian.
He smiled at her.
“I will not lie to you,” the man said. “Ever.”
“Okay,” Alex said keeping her voice mild.
“There is a threat to Romania,” the man said. “Right now. As we speak.”
“Moldova is desirable to the current Russian government,” Alex said.
“All of Bucovina, as well,” the man said. “If there is war, many peasants will die. They have lived up in those mountains for centuries. An entire way of life will be destroyed for one man’s greed.”
Alex gave the man an understanding nod. They fell into silence while he smoked his pipe.
“You know how to be silent,” the man said. “I liked that about your father, Patrick. You can sit with him and collect your thoughts. Not so for Benjamin, of course.”
“Alex?” Raz asked in the earbud in her ear. “Joseph is here. Should we send him to you?”
“My partner,” Alex said and pointed to her ear.
“Please,” the man put his hand on her arm. “I’ve waited a very long time to speak with you. Might I borrow you for just a few minutes? If I don’t speak to you now, I may not get the chance.”
There was something about the man that compelled Alex to say, �
��Hold,” to Raz. She held up five fingers to indicate she’d be there in five minutes.
“I’d like to tell you a story,” he said. “You are Catholic?”
“Sure,” Alex said, keeping her neutral voice.
“Do you know of Saint Josef the New of Partos?” the man asked. “Elizabeth of Romania, the Queen of Greece?”
“Vaguely,” Alex said in the non-committal way of old spies.
The man grinned his applause, and she nodded in a kind of bow. The man gave a chest rattling cough before beginning his story.
“Very briefly, many believe that Saint Josef brought Christianity to Romania,” the man said. “This is not quite true. Saint Josef lived as a hermit in the quiet woods of Mount Altos. He performed many miracles and healings. He was said to have united his reason with his spiritual senses.”
“Eastern mysticism?” Alex asked.
“They say that his mind and heart joined in union,” the man said.
The man puffed on his pipe only to discover that it had gone out. He took a moment to relight the pipe.
“And the Queen of Greece?” Alex asked. “Elizabeth?”
“She was a Romanian princess,” the man said. “Even though it was an arranged marriage, she was beloved to her Crown Prince, George II. He showered her with expensive gifts, especially unique jewelry. A child of Romania, she loved sunflowers…”
Alex felt a chill run down her back.
“…and their counterpart…”
“Honeybees,” Alex said in an exhale.
“Exactly,” the man said. His eyes never turned to Alex, but she knew he was assessing her. “George was said to have commissioned this incredible jeweled honeybee. Of course, it was about this big…”
The man’s thumb and index finger formed a space which was the exact size of the ugly jeweled bee that sat in the safe in Denver. Alex’s heart raced before she forced it to slow. Old-world spies were taught to assess the most subtle physical response. She did not know this man. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing her interest in the ugly bee.
“Can you imagine such a thing?” the man asked. “It was said to have been encrusted with diamonds. Incredibly gaudy, I should say, but Elizabeth wore the broach with pride. It became her signature jewel. What is most mysterious about the jewel is that it was said that the jewels hid a small hidden compartment in the center.”
“Oh?” Alex asked.
“The keyhole was tucked under a black diamond of the eye,” the man said with a puff of his pipe. “Incredible.”
Unsure of what to say, Alex gave a non-committal nod. Jesse appeared to her right. He didn’t say anything; he just looked concerned.
“Of course, we can’t be certain if the jewel still exists,” the man said. He gestured to Alex with his pipe. “Legend says it holds the mysteries of the world. Elizabeth wore the key to the jeweled honeybee around her neck at all times.”
“What do we think the mysteries of the world are?” Alex asked.
“It’s believed to be the key to a lost library,” the man said. “Or possibly a map to it. Something that would rival the library at Alexandria or, I’ve heard surpass it. But then, you never know.”
For a few moments, the only sound was the popping sound of the man smoking his pipe. The man sighed and looked at Alex.
“It’s a long political story,” the man said. “In the end, George went to England and Elizabeth returned to her beloved Romania. If she remained a royal, she would be killed by the communists. She could only regain her citizenship if she divorced George, so she did just that. Although, there is a story of them secretly meeting for the rest of their lives.”
“Love rules the world,” Alex said, mildly, continuing her non-committal spy act.
“Yes, it does,” the man said. “Since this is the short version of this story, and I’m confident you’ll have the longer version as soon as you leave my side, let me cut to the chase. In 1947, December to be exact, the communists forced Elizabeth and her family into exile. They barely escaped with their lives. Of course, the communists took all of her property, including her incredible jewel collection.”
“And this jeweled bee?” Alex asked.
Surprised at her willingness to express her interest, the man raised his eyebrows. She smiled.
“I like old jewelry,” Alex said. “When I was a Sergeant, there was a man on my team who dragged us to every junk shop in the world. I’ve seen a lot of it. In fact, if you have a list of what Elizabeth had, I could probably point you in the direction of where it might have gone.”
The man gave her a curt nod. Alex smiled to cover her relief at the convenient lie.
“Some of her jewels are now owned by the Romanian National Bank,” the man said. “But as you can imagine, many jewels went to the lovers and friends of high-ranking men in the KGB and Communist Party. Sadly, the bee has been lost to time.”
“That’s a shame,” Alex said.
The man gave her a sad nod.
“Did you ever have a chance to see it?” Alex risked asking. Unwilling to leave the question hanging, she added quickly, “I’m a beekeeper and fascinated with all things honeybee.”
“The jeweled bee?” The man’s eyebrows shot up as if he were surprised. “Yes, in fact, I once held it in my hand. I will not bore you with the details of when or where.”
As if to keep himself from saying more, the man closed his mouth tight. He turned his attention to the pipe again.
“How does this relate to Saint Josef?” Alex asked.
The man’s eyes shifted to look at her. He coughed a mouthful of smoke.
“I assumed that you would not have brought up a venerated saint if he wasn’t involved in Queen Elizabeth’s story.”
“Yes, of course,” the man said. “You are correct. Before her exile, Elizabeth campaigned for Josef of New Partos’ veneration. When exiled, Elizabeth became obsessed with the idea that Romania deserved to have its own saint. Unfortunately, Elizabeth was in ill health. She never quite recovered a terrible bout with typhoid fever in 1922. And of course, the communists had no love for Royal families.”
“The Romanian Orthodox Church held no loyalty to the communists,” the man said. “They heard Elizabeth’s pleas, and Josef became Saint Josef the New, in 1956. His remains were moved from the remote church at Partos to Metropolitan Cathedral at Timisoara.”
“Gorgeous place to rest,” Alex said.
“You’ve been there?” the man asked.
“One of my old teammates used to love old churches,” Alex said. “We spent a lot of days off exploring the world. We went to Timisoara and Voronet. Gorgeous.”
Alex nodded. The man smiled at her.
“As you might imagine, Elizabeth could not stay away,” the man said. “Even though she was ill, Elizabeth attended the celebration of the veneration of Holy Hierarch Joseph the New. As an act of kindness, they gave her time alone with the holy relic of Saint Josef.”
“She left this bee with him?” Alex asked. She kept her tone bored but polite.
“The key,” the man said.
“Queen Elizabeth of Greece left the key to her stolen jeweled bee with the remains of Saint Josef the New of Partos,” Alex said with a nod. “And the bee?”
“Liberated,” the man said with a smile. “When the communists left Romania in 1989, the Cathedral at Timisoara was in great disrepair. It took many, many years to raise the money, but eventually the Cathedral was repaired. It was discovered that Saint Josef’s crypt had, at some point, flooded. His remains were removed by scientists, catalogued, cleaned, and reinterred in a private ceremony. The key is in the initial inventory. Strangely, it was the only thing missing when the remains were returned.”
Alex felt the man’s eyes on her face, but she refused to rise to his tempting bait.
“Alex?” Raz asked. “It’s too dark for us to guard you well. We need to get inside. Vince and MJ are freezing.”
Alex turned to the man.
�
�Thank you for the story,” Alex said. “Unfortunately, I need to get inside now.”
“The key exists, Lieutenant Colonel Hargreaves,” the man said.
Alex closed and opened her eyes in acknowledgement.
“Either the monks or the scientists have it,” the man said. “Rest assured, the bee longs to have its knowledge shared.”
“And Elizabeth?” Alex asked to change the subject. “What happened to her?”
“She survived the ceremony,” the man said. “The communists sent an armed response the moment they learned that a member of the Royal Family was in the country. With the communists closing in, she was escorted out of the country by those loyal to her. She died only a few months later in the South of France. It was said that she had fulfilled her life’s purpose by assuring Josef’s ascension to sainthood. With nothing else to live for, she expired at the young age of 62 with George by her side.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Alex said. “She was clearly dear to you.”
The man nodded. Alex got up from the bench. She went straight back into the courtyard of the house and closed the gate door. Vince, his toddler daughter, and MJ followed close behind.
“What was that?” Vince asked.
“You’ll never believe,” Alex said. “MJ, can you follow him? Find out where he goes? Make sure he gets home okay. He seems frail.”
“Roger that,” MJ said.
He turned in place and jogged out of the house.
“I need to talk to Joseph,” Alex said. “I’ll update you when I’m done. Thank you.”
“He’s situated on the roof,” Raz said. “I’ll take you up.”
Alex followed Raz up the stairs to the rooftop sitting area. Unseen from below, Joseph was sitting on a bench looking out at the surf.
“The air is so gorgeous here that I don’t want to go inside,” Joseph said as she came around the bench.
“How is Nancy?” Alex asked, as she sat down.
“Good,” Joseph said. “She’s starting to get some of her strength back. Honestly, I think we’re all doing better just getting away from the noise and all of . . . this.”
Joseph gestured to the sand, surf, and people in front of her.
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