“I’m sorry,” Talia said. “This is our science expert. He was attacked at the convention by someone trying to steal his briefcase.”
“Tell me everything that happened,” demanded the man, running his fingers through his thick black hair and sinking his elbows onto the small table. The counter clerk brought three coffees and vanished again. The man sipped his drink and closed his eyes as Keith related everything that had taken place.
“Have you considered the possibility that it was the woman you spoke of, Jenny Kaine, who tried to take your case?” he asked, fixing his deep-set, dark eyes on Keith.
“Whoa. I never even thought of that. So she’s not a reporter at all?”
“She is indeed an investigative reporter, and she has an international reputation. I should say she is notorious outside of the United States.”
“Never heard of her before,” Keith shrugged.
“That would make her even angrier than she already is at you.” The man smiled. “Jenny Kaine is known to be a secularist activist, which means nothing to most people, but is critical knowledge for those engaged in our cause. She is too often on the scene reporting acts of sabotage and terrorism against the faithful in numerous countries. There is no proof, of course, that she incites or causes these things to happen. We knew she had been to the conference before, but as far as we know, she has never directly attacked an attendee.
“I wish we knew if she had information about what we have found, or if she was simply suspicious and wanted to find out what you carried. Did she specifically target you? Does she know who you are? Go over again how she attached herself to you. I’m sorry. We cannot afford to miss anything here if Jenny Kaine is involved.”
Keith repeated his story. “She saw over your shoulder that you looked up stories about the repository and the contamination lies,” the man mused. “But out of thousands of attendees, how did you first catch her attention?”
“It’s possible someone’s been spying on Bradley Central School since I started teaching there,” Talia said softly.
“What? Why do you say this?”
“You mean the black van?” Keith asked.
“I mean the black van, your mystery reporter … lots of things,” Talia replied.
“Explain,” the man urged.
“You first, Keith,” Talia said.
Keith related the appearances of the female reporter. “Could that have been her, Jenny Kaine, spying on us this whole time? I never got a close look at her, but it was a blonde in tight clothes. Is the black van hers? The windows are so dark we never saw a driver. Why would she be screaming around a tiny little town, spying on us for months if she’s famous or something?”
“I got phone calls,” Talia said in a voice so low Keith almost didn’t hear her.
“What phone calls?”
“My apartment came with a landline phone but I never used it. Now and then, it would ring, and I would automatically answer it. It sounds like the cliché of the heavy breather.” Talia squirmed in her seat. “I didn’t want to say anything to anybody. I was ashamed.”
“Ashamed that some pig was disrespecting you?” Keith kept his voice quiet and himself down in his seat by force of will alone.
“Ashamed, because before I could hang up, the person would say, ‘liar’. Every time.”
“Liar?” Keith echoed.
“This is how the secularist accuses those of us who keep secrets to protect the Word,” sighed the man. He hesitated, and risked laying a hand over Talia’s balled-up fists on the table, but kept his eyes on Keith. “They say we are deceivers. They play upon the human emotion of guilt, endlessly twang on the single note-string of dishonesty. We cannot tell everyone everything so we are not to be trusted. You read spy thrillers? Espionage stories?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“You know the see-saw of emotions, the lost family, the lost love, broken friendships, that runs through these, because the spy is a liar and leads a double life? And the character justifies immorality, betrayal, murder, and lie upon lie upon lie – for the cause. For king and country, is how it is put in some of these works, but it becomes part of his nature, corrupts his whole life. This is how the secularist condemns us, lumping us in with tainted spies. We are liars. We are deceivers. We are never to be trusted.”
Keith rubbed Talia’s shoulder. “It ain’t so,” he murmured. She looked up at him through tears and gave him a shaky smile.
The man questioned Keith closely about his theories on piezoelectricity and the placement of the antennas. He seemed only slightly disappointed when he learned of Keith’s inability to come up with a transmitter.
“We cannot expect you to do all our work for us,” the man smiled. “In fact, I have good news about the map. We have gotten the display to work properly at last, and have recognized the places it seeks to lead us to.”
“That’s wonderful.” Talia clapped her hands. “Where do we go?”
“It shows three locations, but the one we determine to be of central importance is Ugarit,” the man replied.
“Ugarit?” Keith repeated. “That’s a place? I thought it was an ancient language. Don’t Bible scholars use it because it’s like Hebrew or something?”
“Ugaritic is a language.” Talia smirked. “Ugarit is the place where they found clay tablets written in cuneiform.”
“That’s those marks they made with sticks in clay; like, the first written language?” Keith was feeling more and more out of his depth.
“Cuneiform is kind of like an alphabet,” Talia explained. “They used it for a lot of languages. But sometimes it’s done differently, and stands for syllables or words, like Chinese. The cuneiform in Ugarit turned out to be very similar to ancient Hebrew.”
“And I suppose you know how to speak Ugaritic too?”
“No,” Talia laughed. “Nobody speaks Ugaritic.” She sobered and turned to the man who sat patiently, sipping his coffee and smiling a little. “I’m sorry. Your time is valuable. Is there any way we can see what the map shows?”
“I have a video of the ‘unfolding’,” the man replied, passing a mini-chip across the table. “It’s difficult to grasp the amazing splendor of the hologram in the video. But we narrated and included sketches of what we saw and understood to be happening. Your aunt and uncle will find it fascinating as well. We are still not sure about all the instructions included on the display, but we know Ugarit is the place the map points to as of principle importance.”
“So we go to Ugarit, wherever that is, with forty-five high school kids?” Keith scoffed.
“We can, easily,” Talia’s eyes shone. “It’s only about four hundred kilometers from here. It’s in northwestern Syria.”
“Syria? Aren’t there a bunch of ISIS guys killing people there?”
“Nowhere near Ugarit, or Ras Shamrah, as they call it today. It’s safe, Keith, right now, anyway.” She inserted the mini-chip and Keith crowded close to see the video displaying on her tablet.
“Whoa …” he muttered. It looked like someone had shot the video from multiple angles, including lying on the floor looking up. He could see glimpses of the glowing scroll cylinders they had helped put together in Cyprus on a stand like an elaborate floor lamp. He tore his eyes away from the objects swirling into place in the 3D map and gave the Turkish man a baffled look. “But what are we supposed to do when we get there?” he asked.
“The symbols point to at least a portion of the Testaments being hidden at Ugarit,” the man replied. “But until we translate more of the messages, we can’t be sure what we are to do there. I promise we will have people meet you there to give what help we can. But for now you should go. Get some rest, and tomorrow go to Ugarit. Thank you for your help. I can’t tell you what it means to us to have young people willing to sacrifice for the Word. We are so grateful.”
“Anybody figure out anything different about that corundum ax head?” Keith asked as they rose. “The way my sliver dampened that taser charge was in
credible, but it seems like it must have had a different function if they made it into an ax.”
“When you meet our people in Ugarit, they will show you what they have learned about the ax head,” the man said, positively grinning. “It’s impossible to explain briefly. Prepare to be amazed, as they say on American television.”
Talia drove back to the hotel and stopped to let Keith out at the front door. Sophie and Naddy stood waiting. Keith walked over to join them.
“Hey, would you mind if I give this to Talia?” Keith shoved a hand into his shirt pocket and held the red crystalline sliver out to them. After the elevator attack, he had found a vendor at the conference who had been able to mount it like a pendant and it now hung on a silver chain. The guy hadn’t even wanted money to do it. He had been positively giddy to have figured out a way to pierce the corundum without shattering it.
“This is the corundum that protected you?” Sophie asked.
“I’d like to think maybe it could protect her.” Keith held it out to her. “Please. Maybe you could give it to her. She’d probably argue with me about how I need it, but I want her to have it.”
Sophie looked up at him and smiled. She tucked the necklace away. Naddy, however, looked at Keith very hard indeed.
Chapter Thirty-seven – “An Ax to Grind”
“This is Ugarit?” Keith stood and stared at the ruins.
Talia smiled. “Yep. This is it.”
“Where’s that royal palace you told me about?”
“Over there. At least, that’s the entrance.” Talia pointed out the teardrop-shaped stone entryway.
Keith stared some more. “Oookay. Where did they find those tablets?”
“You’ve never been to an active archaeological dig before, have you? I think they’ve found about a thousand tablets with Ugaritic cuneiform altogether, but they were mostly business correspondence and lists of goods. If you’re looking for a giant X that tells us ‘this is where the Testaments are buried’, you won’t find it. Our best bet is to act touristy and wait for the Guardians to contact us.”
Kids spilled off the bus. Chaperones shepherded them into a funnel with Naddy and Sophie at the mouth. Naddy and Sophie started their talk, but the kids looked as bewildered and out of their depth as Keith felt. This trip was beginning to feel like a huge waste to him. This pile of rocks was not going to give up the secret of the Testaments without knowledge he didn’t feel they had.
Several cars drove in moments after the bus had parked and the occupants milled around but did not get far from the group.
“Those are our guards?” Keith asked.
“Probably at least some are. Even Uncle Naddy doesn’t know them all by sight.”
“Yeah, well, I’m wondering how we’re going to know our Guardian contact.” Keith scanned the area but all he saw was rocks and the ocean. Other than the occupants of the cars that had stopped, the place looked abandoned. “So what makes this active? It looks dead.”
“Active means people are working on it. They just aren’t here right now. See the taped-off areas, and the grid markings?” She gave him a rapid-fire spiel about how digs worked and he tried to listen politely.
“Would have been more interesting for the kids if people were at least digging at a dig.” Keith grunted and rubbed the back of his neck.
Talia slid her arm into his. “Waiting is never easy, Keith. We all want to be busy, to hurry up and solve all the mysteries, but God will show us what to do in His time, not ours.”
“Well, at least I’ve got great company while I wait,” Keith grinned. “Sorry for talking like a jerk.”
“We are going to find some of the Testaments here. We are going to help the cause,” Talia murmured.
A man sauntered toward them and abruptly put on a burst of speed. Talia pulled back, staring at him, bewildered, as they saw a second man break into a run and head for them. The nearer man put out his hands and shoved Keith, sending him rolling down a gravelly slope. He couldn’t even slow himself down, and fell over two hundred feet, fetching up against a rock outcropping headfirst. Stars burst against his eyelids but he forced himself up and looked toward the top of the ridge. Talia came rolling down beside him and he barely got her stopped before she hit the rock. They struggled back to the top just as an International sped away. Security guards ran up to them.
“What happened?” Keith demanded, gripping his head in both hands.
“The two Doctors Ramin are gone.”
“Nobody could stop them? Nobody?” Keith sat in the bus with an ice pack against his temple and tried to block out the sound of Talia’s sobbing. The kids sat all around him, afraid to make any noise. The security men stood outside and conferred in typical non-English fashion. Their leader turned, climbed the steps, and faced Keith, defiance on his face.
“One car is pursuing them with two of my men.” He wasn’t reassuring himself, much less the rest of them.
“Why didn’t you all go after them? Who are they? Why would they take Naddy and Sophie?” Keith demanded.
The security man shot him a warning look and Keith subsided. Yelling made his head hurt worse, anyway. “Our orders were to protect the students, chaperones, and you and Ms. Ramin,” he retorted. “You’re lucky I had enough men that it seemed safe to send those two.”
Keith’s head pounded and he tried to convince himself there weren’t two Talias and twice as many kids. A man in nondescript local dress, leading a donkey, timidly approached the bus and the remaining security men didn’t even try to hide their purpose, pulling out guns and surrounding him. He dropped to his knees and lifted his hands. Talia pulled herself together and spoke to him in … whatever language it is this time. Syrian? Is that a language? Keith closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat as the man mumbled, to the ground where his eyes were fixed, something equally impossible to understand.
Keith figured he must have blanked out for a minute or two, because when he woke up Talia choked off something that sounded a whole lot like cussing lessons in multiple foreign languages. The new arrival crouched there with his head hung down like a whipped dog. Chaperones had their arms around some of the girls, making soothing noises. Several of them were crying now, too. Talia looked positively dangerous.
“Start circling the bus and try to find any clues about the kidnappers,” Talia ordered the guards. Keith saw the men’s wariness as their eyes slid over the newcomer. Talia dismissed them with a slice of her hand.
“Keith, this … person… is here to see you,” Talia told him as the man regained his feet. “Are you well enough to talk to him?”
“To see me?” Keith repeated stupidly. “Does he know something about Naddy and Sophie?”
Talia started in crying again. She stumbled into the bus and passed Keith toward the back.
“No, that’s not why I came,” the short man replied, pulling his hood up over his tangled dark hair. “I can’t take that crying, so can we walk a little ways?”
Keith climbed out and the man led him a short way from the bus. “You don’t sound like you’re from here,” Keith said.
“That’s right, I’m not. I met Naddy and Sophie In Italy. My name’s Guglielmo. Talia and Cindee called me Jiggly most times. You can too, ‘cause I know it’s a tough name for Americans. In English it’s William, or Billy, and I can’t stand either of those. So Jiggly works.”
“Wait. You’re that guy who almost got Naddy killed? What are you doing here? Why should we trust you?”
“I’m trying to pull a John Mark here,” Guglielmo answered with a crooked smile. “I left the work, but now I’m back, because God didn’t hang me by my toenails over the bottomless pit and singe me bald like Talia wanted. He didn’t roll me in dung and leave me for the dogs to worry, either, like that other guy wanted. He showed me mercy and forgave my sins.”
“Okay, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you have something to do with Naddy and Sophie getting kidnapped?”
“No. I didn’t kn
ow they were gone ‘til I got here. I been looking for Talia, Naddy – anybody I could apologize to, beg forgiveness from – you know, try to make things right, but, instead, I found these Guardian people. I just … I did find God. I found Christ. And if it helps me prove anything to anybody, I even want to help you find Naddy and Sophie, but first, I gotta show you this.”
Keith decided to take the guy up on his offer to refer to him as Jiggly, because even in his head he couldn’t get a handle on that Italian version of William. “The Guardians trust you? Talia trusts you, after what you did, when you say you found God?”
“Nobody has to trust me. Them guys can shoot me anytime.” He jerked his head at the security guards, still dividing their attention between Jiggly, the bus, and the surrounding landscape. “It’d be no more than I deserve. But I showed Talia what I brought and she decided you needed to see it and decide for yourself whether to let them shoot me. She must like you a lot, and I guess Naddy approves, too, huh? That’s good, cuz Naddy’s rumored to have buried guys he didn’t like at a dig site someplace.”
He pushed and prodded at the pack on the donkey’s back and produced a golden rod, which he attached to the red corundum ax head they had found off the coast of Crete. Jiggly passed it low and slow to Keith, mindful of the added alertness of the security guards when they saw the weapon.
“Here you go, “Jiggly said. “Britomartis’s ax. The Guardians said this handle’s orichalcum, like the stuff you guys have been messing with. They found it buried in the sand under the ax head. The handle had this locking thingy on it, and they snapped together; so makes sense they belong together. They wanted me to mention that it’s very similar to the lock on the bag we found at Naxos – the one the scrolls were in.”
“Man,” Keith whispered, hefting the ax and watching it catch the sun, captivated in spite of his goose egg and his worry over Naddy and Sophie. “This is fine.”
“The Guardian geeks say it’s ‘way better than awesome,” Jiggly said. “They threw a bunch of stuff at it – Bullets, electrical charges, lasers – nothing even gets by it. It’s got a force field bubble that extends at least five feet around it. The stuff goes, like, bloop, and falls on the floor.”
The Great Thirst Boxed Set Page 22
