by Tim Lebbon
Mulder pulled a business-sized envelope from his back pocket.
“According to Saleh, only the boat captain and the Border Guards had access to the manifest,” said Mulder as he opened the envelope. “Besides the crew, the only other passengers were Gavin and Maggie Pelham, British expats with an address at Al Basateen.”
“When we listened to the tape audio, Gavin Pelham was not on the boat at the time of the attack. He had swum to the island and the boat disembarked before he returned.”
Mulder paused for a moment to let it sink in. Then he leaned forward to the driver. “Do you know where Al Basateen is?”
*****
AL BASATEEN RESIDENTIAL COMPOUND
JEDDAH, SAUDI ARABIA
SATURDAY, 1515 HOURS LOCAL TIME
The security gate was manned by Saudi soldiers armed with AK-47s and an MG3 machine gun mounted on a HUMVEE. However, once the van passed through security, the compound looked like any Western condominium complex. They located the Pelham villa, a large townhouse in beige stucco, with a ceramic tiled roof. The door opened after two rings of the bell. A middle-aged Filipina woman stood in the doorway with a worried look on her face.
“Mr. and Mrs. Pelham no return from boat trip,” she managed after Mulder and Scully introduced themselves.
“May we come in?” said Scully.
Tina had been the housekeeper for the Pelhams for six years, three of those in the Kingdom, three in Jakarta. Gavin was a tobacco rep for a big U.S. tobacco firm, while Maggie taught English at the International School.
“Do you know Jane Pepper?” asked Mulder.
“I know Miss Pepper. Very nice lady, she lives two villas over.”
“Did the Pelhams ever talk about Miss Pepper in an angry way?”
“No, never. They like Miss Pepper very much. They have many parties together.”
“Parties? What sort of parties?”
“Parties with neighbors. Mr. Pelham would always bring his happy juice.”
Tina brought them into the kitchen and opened the pantry. Within were steel pots, tubing, and a pressure cooker placed neatly on the same shelf. “Mr. Pelham gave many people happy juice. They pay him money.”
She led Mulder and Scully out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and to a closed door. She unlocked the door and opened it. Scully counted thirty or so cardboard boxes in neat stacks inside.
“Happy juice,” said Tina.
Scully walked in, opened a box, and pulled out a 1.5 liter plastic bottle.
“Water?” she said.
“You try,” said Tina.
Scully twisted off the cap and sniffed. She looked at Mulder.
“Alcohol,” she said.
Mulder walked over, took the bottle, and swigged.
“Sidiki,” he said. “Saudi moonshine.”
*****
SHERATON RED SEA HOTEL
NORTH OBHUR, JEDDAH, SAUDI ARABIA
SATURDAY, 1720 HOURS LOCAL TIME
Scully’s cell rang as the consulate van pulled into the hotel, the gate sliding closed behind them.
“Scully? I see... okay. Thank you.” She thumbed the disconnect button and looked at Mulder.
“Preliminary examination of the scales are inconclusive. They don’t match up with any of the common fish species in the Red Sea. They’re running further tests.”
Mulder raised his eyebrows.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Mulder.”
“If you say so.”
Scully went back to her bungalow eager to rid herself of the abaya. Once at the sliding glass door, she noticed the light on, though she was certain she had turned it off. She reached for her Sig Sauer P228, but had to pull her abaya up past her waist to retrieve it. She stopped and listened. She could hear nothing from within, the sound of the surf on the rocks and the quiet chatter of diners at the restaurant behind her.
She quietly slid the door open, then pulled the cobalt blue curtain to the side. No sound or movement from within. Nothing, at least in the living room. She slipped in and moved towards the bedroom. Again she paused and listened. The bed was covered with brightly colored boxes, dozens of them. A vase of roses sat on her nightstand, a card leaned against the vase. After confirming that the bedroom and bathroom were empty, she removed her abaya, then holstered the sig. She picked up the card and opened it.
“Welcome to Jeddah,
Saleh”
The gifts, the flowers were not only profoundly unprofessional, they were excessive. She could not discern what behaviors she could have displayed in the last few hours that would have prompted this lavish gesture.
Scully headed to the door to tell Mulder, but the phone rang.
“Hello?” she said.
“Agent Scully, this is Saleh. I trust you received my welcome gifts?”
“About that, I’m not too familiar with the customs of your country, but—”
“I’m sorry, Agent Scully, but I actually called to give you some important news. Jane Pepper has been found alive. She is under protection and being treated at the International Medical Center. In her condition, I think it best if you could handle her debriefing. There may be others alive.”
“Of course. I’ll call the consulate about transportation.”
“No need,” said Saleh. “I have sent a car. It should be there soon.”
Scully hung up, then called Mulder. It went to voicemail. She explained the situation. Scully sighed, shook the wrinkles out of her abaya, slipped it over her clothes, then went to meet the car.
*****
Mulder got out of the shower, dried off, and noticed a message on his cell phone. He listened to Scully’s message and made a mental note to check in on her if he hadn’t heard back within the hour. He was relieved to hear that Jane Pepper had been found alive. Not only did it mean the prospect of more answers, but it also meant that the Saudis were keeping their word about the ongoing search.
He dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, then sat in front of laptop at the small desk in his bedroom. He read a research article on Enki, the Sumerian God of the Sea.
The main temple to Enki is named E-en-gur-a, meaning “house of the subterranean waters,” a ziggurat temple on an island near the Red Sea coastline where the Yemeni Quda’a tribe settled. He was the keeper of the divine powers called Me, the gifts of civilization. He is often shown with the horned crown of divinity dressed in the skin of a carp. In Babylonian mythology, Enki is known as Ea, and is depicted as half-man, half-fish. Ea was also referred to as the Skar Apsi, or “King of the Watery Deep.”
Mulder typed in a search for “Yemeni Quda’a tribe,” which resulted in a number of web articles on “Jeddah.” He then tried “Skar Apsi.” The first search result was the copy of a journal article entitled “From the Depths: The Ocean Cults of Arabia.” Mulder’s pulse quickened. Before he had an opportunity to read the article, his gaze drifted down to author’s name:
Dr. Henry Grange, PhD, University of Maryland School of Anthropology.
He picked up his phone.
*****
NORTH OBHUR, JEDDAH, SAUDI ARABIA
SATURDAY, 1835 HOURS LOCAL TIME
Scully sat in the back of the Lincoln Town Car and began to suspect that it was not an official vehicle. The pristine leather interior, integrated DVD player, and well-manicured driver suggested otherwise. She tried to inquire, but the driver did not seem to understand English.
She watched the gated resorts and marinas roll by through deeply tinted windows, as the car traveled south towards Jeddah proper. She recognized the onramp to Medinah Road ahead, but the driver continued on another quarter mile before turning right and coming to a stop in front of a gate. A moment later and the gate began to slide open, and the Town Car entered a long driveway.
“Is this the medical center?” she said, but the driver replied in Arabic.
The car continued until the driveway opened up to the ocean on the right. There she saw a massive yacht, and Saleh standing next to the gangplank. The
car stopped, and Scully got out.
“Forgive the detour, Agent Scully, but given that this is your first trip to Jeddah, I thought you may appreciate the scenic route to the medical center. We can travel south along the coast and put in at the city docks.”
Scully felt the anger rise up at the suggestion. Pepper had been through hell, and there was a chance the information she provided could prove useful in locating Hicks, the Pelhams, and the crew.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for the ‘scenic route.’ It’s critical that you get me to Jane Pepper immediately.”
Then she saw it—something in his expression, something a little too amused. She sensed the presence of the driver, close, looming, tense. Her hand drifted towards her Sig, but she realized the abaya was in the way.
“Do not worry, Agent Scully, I will take you directly to Ms. Pepper without further delay.”
*****
SHERATON RED SEA HOTEL
NORTH OBHUR, JEDDAH, SAUDI ARABIA
SATURDAY, 1915 HOURS LOCAL TIME
Mulder had left two messages with Scully, and one with Agent Bates. His concerns may have been unfounded. He wasn’t sure how robust the cell signals were in Jeddah, and he wasn’t positive there was cause for alarm to begin with. He ran the facts down: someone or something came from the water and boarded the Marietta; no survivors remained on the boat, and no bodies were found; Pepper had been found alive by the Saudis (but how and where?); Gavin Pelham was not on the boat during the attack; Gavin was bootlegging siddiki from his home; then there were the identified scales, the video, and Professor Henry Grange, who quite possibly linked the whole thing to—
A knock on the door. Mulder pulled his Sig from its holster on the nightstand, and peered through the curtains. For a moment he didn’t recognize the tall man with the close-cut beard, then he realized it was Mahmoud, this time dressed in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. Mulder slid the door open, placing the handgun behind his thigh.
“Inspector Mahmoud,” he said. “What brings you here?”
Mulder stepped aside, and Mahmoud stooped to enter, his demeanor sunken, tired.
“I wanted to personally inform you that the bodies of Ms. Jane Pepper, Grant Hicks, Maggie Pelham, and most of the crew of the Marietta were recovered about an hour ago by the Border Guard. Although their identities will not be officially confirmed until DNA or dental records are consulted.”
Mulder felt his chest tighten. “That can’t be right, I—Agent Scully received a call from Inspector Saleh. He said that Pepper had been found alive, that she was going to debrief her.”
Mahmoud met his gaze. “Saleh, you say? Impossible. He was with me when we received word. You must be mistaken. No matter now. We have been pulled off the case. The case has been picked up by the General Intelligence Presidency. It’s been declared a matter of national security. I came here as a courtesy.”
Mahmoud began walking towards the door. Mulder blocked his way.
“Listen, Saleh, or someone claiming to be him, called Scully, sent a car to pick her up. I haven’t been able to reach her.”
Mahmoud sidestepped Mulder. “I am sure she simply misunderstood the message. Saleh has taken a, well, a personal interest in Agent Scully. Perhaps she was too ashamed to admit that she simply went out on a social engagement with him.”
Saleh reached for the door and Mulder grabbed his arm.
“A social engagement?” he said, his face inches from Mahmoud’s. “You don’t know my partner. I believe she’s in danger. I need you to call Saleh.”
Mahmoud stared at Mulder, his features cold and impenetrable. “I’m risking my career by being here.”
“Call Saleh,” said Mulder.
*****
6 NAUTICAL MILES OVER THE RED SEA
SATURDAY, 2030 HOURS
Mulder and Mahmoud sat in the troop compartment of a UH-60 Blackhawk Helicopter as it soared over the dark swells and whitecaps of the sea below. Both wore headphones and mics.
“Saleh’s driver said he brought Agent Scully to Saleh’s private yacht just before 1900,” said Mahmoud.
“Private yacht?”
“The royal family is pretty expansive in the Kingdom. Saleh is one of many minor princes.”
“How can we be sure that he took her to the island?”
“The driver said that Mahmoud was acting strangely, and that he made references to ‘bringing Agent Scully to the scene of the crime.’”
“How well do you know Saleh?”
“Well enough to know that his piety is far eclipsed by his vanity.”
Mulder felt the Blackhawk begin to descend. The helicopter’s floodlights exposed the rock-strewn shore of a sparsely vegetated island. They flew inland for another few minutes and then landed on a flat stretch of land.
“Shouldn’t we check the coast for the yacht?” said Mulder.
“The pilot received a report of a sandstorm moving over the island. We’re grounded. We’ll move by foot to where the bodies were located. It’s not far from here.”
Mahmoud led Mulder across an open expanse of terrain towards higher ground. The wind picked up and showered them with warm, sand-filled blasts of air. They climbed up several large boulders until they reached a plateau. Through the darkness and the sandy haze, Mulder made out a large spire jutting from the middle of the plateau.
“What is that?” he said, his voice fighting the increasing howl of the wind.”
“This would be the scene of the crime,” said Mahmoud. “E-en-gur-a, the Temple of Enki. It is an archeological site of one of the many pre-Islamic pagan deities.”
“The water god? Saleh studied under Doctor Grange, an expert in Enki’s cults,” said Mulder.
“We will search inside the temple. Saleh may have very well brought Scully here,” said Mahmoud. “The subterranean passages lead to an underwater sacrificial chamber. It’s there that the Border Guard found the victims.”
Once upon the spire, its clear geometrical lines were more obvious. It was an obelisk thirty to forty feet high. At its base, a stone archway, black within. Mahmoud illuminated the archway with a flashlight, revealing a myriad of worn symbols. “Mostly cuneiform,” he said. “Some symbols have yet to be deciphered.”
He moved within the arch, and Mulder followed. It narrowed into a short hall that then began to steeply descend.
“The condition of the bodies suggested the possibility of international terrorist involvement.”
“What was the condition of the bodies?”
“They were beheaded. All of them.”
It wasn’t long before Mulder smelled seawater, and he heard the splash of water on stone. The corridor widened, then opened up into a large chamber. Here, a path lead out into a pool of seawater and stopped at another obelisk, this one a smaller replica of the one aboveground. The chamber was otherwise empty.
“The bodies were found arranged around the obelisk.”
“No Scully, or Saleh. They must be above.”
“Perhaps they haven’t arrived yet.”
“Mahmoud, she’s in danger, we just can’t wait here in hopes that she’ll show up.”
“Perhaps you should worry less about your partner.”
“What—?”
Mahmoud illuminated the gun he pointed at Mulder, then blinded him with the beam of light.
“Remove your weapon and drop it on the ground.”
Mulder reached into his jacket and pulled out his Sig. For a moment he considered taking a shot at Mahmoud, but he couldn’t see anything with the light in his eyes.
“Back slowly towards the obelisk. I think you’ll find what happens next to be... fascinating.”
“What have you done with Scully?” he said. “Look, you have me now, you don’t need her. Let her go.”
“Scully, I’m sure, is in good hands,” said Mahmoud.
Mulder felt the cold stone of the obelisk press into his back. Mahmoud was upon him quickly, handcuffing his hands behind the stone monument. Th
e light was now gone from his eyes, leaving drifting motes and spirals. His eyes adjusted. Mahmoud was busy lighting torches around the perimeter of the chamber.
“Enki is a god that requires balance,” said Mahmoud. “Like many of the older gods, he is sustained by sacrifice. In the Abrahamic traditions, those sacrifices are largely personal and symbolic. During Ramadan, Muslims forgo food and negative behaviors from sunrise to sunset; for Catholics, they sacrifice something for Lent; and the Jews have Tish B’Av. Enki and his kind are not so figurative.”
Mahmoud finished with the torches and moved to the path that crossed the water in front of Mulder. He began to remove his clothing.
“Enki represents the relationship of the land and the sea; the balance that is struck when two powerful elements clash—the explosion of surf on the rocks, the estuary that carves through landscapes, and the hurricanes and typhoons that level human settlements. Enki also represents the harmonic nature of that balance—the bounty of the depths, the life-giving supply of rain, trade, and transportation.”
Mahmoud now stood nude in front of Mulder, his thin body flickering orange in the torchlight. Mulder pulled at his cuffs, tried to squeeze his hands out of them to no avail.
“These are ancient ideas,” said Mulder. “Antiquated, dead. Nothing will come from my sacrifice but your arrest.”
“These ideas are very much alive, as you’ll have the privilege of witnessing firsthand,” said Mahmoud.
He dropped to his knees and began to utter a series of harsh, guttural sounds—a language Mulder could not understand. When he raised his head, his eyes had turned black, his face more aquiline, and his skin a shimmering green and blue.
Mulder’s pulse quickened, his breathing shallowed. The water in the pool around him began to churn. He felt panic rise as Mahmoud’s fingers grew webbed membranes and sharp talons. Mahmoud’s skin transformed into glimmering scales. His unintelligible gibbering, now further garbled by a viscous gel that formed strands over a gaping carp-like mouth, increased in urgency and crescendo.
Mulder pulled at the handcuffs until he felt blood trickle onto his hands. The water around him came alive as bubbles roiled the surface. This too excited Mahmoud, his black eyes wide with delight over the arrival of his minions. He shambled towards Mulder on unsteady, webbed feet, his enormous mouth, now ringed with jagged teeth, sucking at the air.
