by K. T. Tomb
“It had nothing to do with the explosion and tremors that followed?”
“I don’t see how it could have. I distinctly heard the tumblers on the locks turn,” she replied.
After a long, dramatic pause, Reginald Whitherby’s pale, blue eyes were fixed upon her own; his voice barely above a whisper. “The hand of God, Miss Phoenix. The hand of God.”
The End
Phoenix returns in:
The Seal of Solomon
Return to the Table of Contents
THE SEAL OF SOLOMON
by
K.T. TOMB
A Phoenix Quest Adventure #6
The Seal of Solomon
Published by K.T. Tomb
Copyright © 2016 by K.T. Tomb
All rights reserved.
The Seal of Solomon
Chapter One
From experience, Thalia Phoenix knew the telltale chattering sound of an AK-47.
She was also well acquainted with the feeling that was a mixture of fear and anger at being pinned down by a barrage of bullets that ripped at plaster and stone all around her and Jonathan as they hugged the ancient stone floor of Notre Dame de la Garde. What had been billed by Simon Kessler as a quick research trip for an upcoming project had rapidly turned into the most dangerous experience she’d had to date.
By the sound of the screaming, AK-47 packing lunatics that had suddenly stormed the cathedral, she was pretty sure that it was yet another of the string of attacks by Islamic extremists that were taking place all over France. They were beginning to become commonplace, but only in the minds of those that weren’t clinging to their lives under withering automatic rifle fire.
She turned her head to look at her brother, Jonathan, lying completely still with his head turned toward her and was assured that he was okay when she saw him mouth the words, “What the fuck?”
“Don’t move,” Phoe mouthed back to him.
“As if,” was his silent response.
“Alluha Akbar!” a voice screamed, after which an ear-splitting explosion rocked the foundations of the majestic cathedral of Marseille.
Phoe covered her head and prayed that the mass of walls and ceilings weren’t already plunging toward them to bury them alive or instantly crush them to death.
Following the explosion came a profound silence that made Phoe wonder if she had lost all sense of hearing. Not knowing if the silence meant the end of the attack or if it was meant as a trick to bring those playing dead back to life, Phoe remained still and forced her ears to try to pick up any sound. After a few moments, she heard footsteps which approached very near to her and her brother.
So, this is how it ends? She was certain that the attackers were coming to finish them off. She held her breath as the footsteps drew closer, paused and began shuffling through the items that were on the table that they had been approaching. Though she was about to run out of breath and would, therefore, have to gasp for her next breath, Phoe fought back the urge that was overtaking her. Better to pass out than die.
A glance toward Jonathan confirmed that he too was struggling to keep himself from being discovered. She was pretty certain that the sound of her heart hammering in her chest was enough to alert anyone of her condition and give her away. She fought to calm herself and slow her heartbeat, but found that it was impossible.
The retreating footsteps were a massive relief that did not come a moment too soon. She tried to blow out the spent air in her lungs slowly, but found that after such a long period of time, it was ready to exit with a rush. I hope to God he didn’t hear that.
Jonathan fared somewhat better when he let the stale air out of his lungs, though the sustained rush would certainly have attracted the attention of anyone who was still near. They both remained still and waited to hear the slightest sound. Were the attackers gone or were they waiting quietly for their quarry to raise their heads before sending another barrage of bullets flying?
After a few moments, Jonathan mouthed a question. “Are they gone?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do we do?”
“Wait.”
Lying on the floor and waiting was a typical Thalia Phoenix response to a dangerous situation. She’d been in plenty of them before and action had been what got her out of most of them; however, without a weapon and being taken completely by surprise, not to mention being terrified, lying still had been the better part of valor in that moment.
It wasn’t until the sounds around them changed from coarse commands in Syrian Farsi to the concerned tones of compassion in French that Phoe ventured to lift her head and look around. As the sounds of concerned Frenchmen began to increase, both she and Jonathan sat up and cautiously peered around them.
The walls around them were pocked with holes where hundreds of bullets had hit. The chips of plaster and stone, and the dust of the bullet impacts and the explosion were still settling in around them as they took in the scene. That was when Phoe made a grisly discovery. The monsignor who had been about to help them on their “research project” had a clean bullet hole right through his forehead and was slouched against the wall where he fell.
“Il ya plus ici!” a voice cried out from the doorway to their left. As he approached, the shaken voice became softer with concern. “Est ce que ça va?”
“We’re fine,” Phoe replied in well-practiced French. “The monsignor, however…” She did not finish the sentence, only waved toward the dead clergy member.
Helping Phoe and Jonathan to their feet, the wide eyes of the concerned Frenchman continued to search their faces for an explanation that neither of them had. What explanation was there to give? Who truly understood the utter lunacy that had become the norm in the modern world?
After a few moments, Phoe recalled the reason that they had been in Notre Dame de la Garde in the first place. She turned back toward the table, which only moments before, she had heard the shuffling of the items that had been placed there by the Monsignor; items that he had brought out to show her. All of them were there except one; ironically, the very one that they had come to see.
“Shit!” she snapped in perfect English.
“What?” Jonathan quickly responded, moving up beside her. He was still shaken and wide-eyed, but eager to be involved in whatever was troubling his sister.
“The enigma,” Phoe responded. “It’s gone.”
“Whoever came…” Jonathan didn’t see a need to continue the sentence. In fact, two-word sentences seemed sufficient for communication at that moment.
“Simon,” Phoe whispered. She pulled out her cell phone and pushed the speed dial code for her employer, Simon Kessler. She was ready to present all that had happened and also let him know that they were okay, but instead of getting the chance to do so, her call was answered by one word.
“Zip,” Simon’s voice said in a sharp tone. In the same instant, the call was connected, it was disconnected. However, with that one word, Simon had communicated a mountain of information to Phoe. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and turned toward the question on Jonathan’s face. No doubt there was even less blood left in her own countenance than had been there even after surviving the terrorist attack.
“What?” Jonathan’s face drew down its color in response to what he was seeing in her.
“Got to get you home,” she replied, politely brushing aside the well-meaning rescuers who had begun to flood into the room. They moved toward the doorway in the one wall that wasn’t collapsed or on the verge of collapsing.
“But what about you?” Jonathan protested as he tried to keep pace with her.
“I’ve got something else that I need to do,” she retorted.
“I’m going with you,” he insisted.
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t.”
“Where are you going?” He reached out for her shoulder and turned her to face him.
“I have to meet Simon.”
; “I’m in this with you. You know, like before.”
There had been a rough patch between them and some trust for her brother had been lost. Though Phoe was making every effort to draw him back in, there were still hints of doubt that wouldn’t allow her to open the door all of the way. As she looked up at him, however, she saw not only his concern for her safety, but also his eagerness to try to prove himself again. How could she turn him away?
“Okay, fine.” She finally gave in. “You go back to Venice and wait for me there, but be careful.”
“What about you?”
“Simon called an audible,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“That means that if you ask too many questions it might get both of us—all of us—killed,” she replied sharply. “Now, do as I say. Got it?”
“Fine,” he sighed.
“Trust me on this. We’ve got to split up, and I mean, right now; no one can see us leave here together,” she said. “Get a cab, get yourself to the airport and back to Venice. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Phoe continued through the rubble and carnage that, thankfully, had been kept to a minimum due to the sparse number of people in the cathedral on a weekday morning. Jonathan followed her after a few moments, but stayed clear of her and went in an opposite direction once outside.
Chapter Two
But King Solomon loved many foreign women, as well as the daughter of Pharaoh: women of the Moabites, Ammonites, Edomites, Sidonians, and Hittites—from the nations of whom the Lord had said to the children of Israel, “You shall not intermarry with them, nor they with you. Surely they will turn away your hearts after their gods.”
Solomon clung to these in love. And he had seven hundred wives, princesses, and three hundred concubines; and his wives turned away his heart. For it was so, when Solomon was old, that his wives turned his heart after other gods; and his heart was not loyal to the Lord his God, as was the heart of his father David. For Solomon went after Ashtoreth the goddess of the Sidonians, and after Milcom the abomination of the Ammonites. Solomon did evil in the sight of the Lord, and did not fully follow the Lord, as did his father David. Then Solomon built a high place for Chemosh the abomination of Moab, on the hill that is east of Jerusalem, and for Molech the abomination of the people of Ammon. And he did likewise for all his foreign wives, who burned incense and sacrificed to their gods.
So the Lord became angry with Solomon, because his heart had turned from the Lord God of Israel, who had appeared to him twice, and had commanded him concerning this thing, that he should not go after other gods; but he did not keep what the Lord had commanded. Therefore, the Lord said to Solomon, “Because you have done this, and have not kept My covenant and My statutes, which I have commanded you, I will surely tear the kingdom away from you and give it to your servant. Nevertheless, I will not do it in your days, for the sake of your father David; I will tear it out of the hand of your son. However, I will not tear away the whole kingdom; I will give one tribe to your son for the sake of My servant David, and for the sake of Jerusalem which I have chosen.”
Now the Lord raised up an adversary against Solomon, Hadad the Edomite; he was a descendant of the king in Edom.
And God raised up another adversary against him, Rezon the son of Eliadah, who had fled from his lord, Hadadezer king of Zobah. So he gathered men to him and became captain over a band of raiders, when David killed those of Zobah. And they went to Damascus and dwelt there, and reigned in Damascus.
Then Solomon’s servant, Jeroboam the son of Nebat, an Ephraimite from Zereda, whose mother’s name was Zeruah, a widow, also rebelled against the king. – 1 Kings, Chapter 11.
“It makes no sense, Simon,” Phoe told her employer. She had weighed the scene over and over on her trip to the quaint Tuscan villa, which was the secret meeting place for her and Simon whenever there was a matter of the utmost secrecy and urgency. At the mention of the word “zip” by either of them, it was instantly understood that they were to make their way to that meeting place without any questions or further conversation.
“What makes no sense, Phoe?”
“Why a terrorist attack at a time and place where the body count would be low? Unless it wasn’t an actual terrorist attack. Although it damned sure felt like one.” Another question was on her mind as well, but she decided to save it for later.
“It wasn’t a terrorist attack,” Simon responded, but did not go into further detail.
For some reason, on occasion, he liked to test Phoe’s mind and patience. It really wasn’t the time, but who could force Simon to do anything? “So, whoever it was only wanted the enigma? But why…?” She cut off the question, recalling the slumped body of the monsignor and the others who had lost their lives, not to mention the whole corner of the cathedral being reduced to rubble.
“I think this was a case of someone making use of what is becoming commonplace in order to do just as you said; snatch the enigma.”
The enigma to which he was referring, was the Enigma of Sheba. It had been placed among the relics of Notre Dame de la Garde centuries before, though no one had known, with any certainty, how it had ended up arriving there. The enigma was a series of riddles that held clues to Sheba’s actual country of origin as well as others that were supposed to lead to certain treasures or artifacts that were of great interest to the Vatican. Though the Vatican had copies of the text of the Enigma of Sheba, Simon had sent Phoe to examine the actual relic itself, knowing that his renowned archeologist would be able to find any secondary clues or even verify the authenticity of the relic. Even in the early centuries of the church, the forgery of certain relics had been commonplace.
“I didn’t have a chance to examine it.” Phoe responded to a question that hadn’t yet been asked. “The way that the monsignor handled it attested to the fact that he, at least, thought it was sacred. Not that that means anything.”
“Hmmm,” Simon mused. He made a tent with his hands and leaned forward with his elbows on the small, wooden table and bounced his lips on the apex of his fingers.
Phoe decided to go ahead with the question that she had been saving. “How did you know so quickly? Did you have someone watching me?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Because?” Phoe knew that there were a number of reasons that Simon would have someone follow her. The first, and least likely, was that he was having trust issues with her. The second—which seemed to be extremely valid, given what took place—was that he feared for her safety. The third—and the one that always left a bad taste in her mouth—was that he was using her as bait to draw someone else out.
“Why I had someone following you is not nearly as important as what we discovered in the process.”
So it was the third, then. Phoe sighed and shook her head. “I wish you’d let me know when you did this kind of shit to me.”
“That would defeat the purpose.” He smiled. The smile quickly changed when he saw the anger in her eyes. He sat back in his chair and continued. “My man noted a couple of things, if you’d like to hear them.”
“I don’t suppose that I have a choice,” Phoe replied, fighting back an urge to let loose on him. He’d put her and Jonathan in danger, within a hairs-breadth of being killed, just so he could find something out.
Simon shrugged and then began to tell her anyway. “Though he certainly wasn’t expecting a terrorist attack, my man was waiting to see who else might have some interest in our enigma. We had suspected that the Syrian Caliphate was trying to locate it, but wasn’t quite certain of its actual location—”
“So, you used me as bait,” Phoe snapped.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen the way that it did,” Simon retorted.
“But it did, and you nearly got us killed in the process.” Phoe’s voice rose in both pitch and volume. “Do you know what it’s like to have bullets from an AK-47 spraying over your head and breaking shit up? Do you know what it’s like to feel the explosion of someone’s suicid
e vest that rocks the foundations underneath you while you cling to the floor in fear that the roof and walls are going to bury you alive? Do you even think about that kind of shit whenever you send me out like that?”
“I apologize,” he said, turning his face downward. “We’d only seen one man following you.”
“You’ve been watching someone follow me and said nothing?”
“Look, Phoe,” he responded defensively. “You know how this stuff works. You’ve been in these situations before. I call on you because you’re the best and I know that you have the intelligence and the resources to get out of the worst of them. But we have a major development here that is bigger than you and bigger than me. This is something that can, if placed into the wrong hands, bring about our world’s destruction. Do you understand that?”
Though she was angry with him, Phoe knew that Kessler never took that tone when speaking with her. Whatever was going on was serious. World destruction seemed a little bit far out for her, but it was certainly something serious.
“You could have at least asked me,” she replied in a whisper, “so I could have been prepared.”
“Trust and betrayal are issues of enormous concern in this one, Thalia,” he whispered. “Hence…” He waved a hand indicating their present location.
Kessler rarely called her Thalia. The fact that he used her given name meant that things were very serious. The fact that he’d called the audible immediately was also an indicator of his fear of subterfuge. She sighed heavily. Here we go again, Phoe.
“Is the enigma that important?” she finally asked, forcing herself to calm down.
“It’s a possible clue, but no, it’s really not. The fact that the Caliphate think it is, is what concerns me the most.”
