Ibis was smiling in a way that said the question had had its desired effect. “The Ark of the Covenant. I’m assuming you’ve heard of it?”
“Of course I’ve heard of it.”
“I haven’t,” Kai admitted.
“Yes you have, from me, a hundred times at least.”
“Well, I don’t remember.”
“The throne of God on Earth,” Ibis said, cutting in. “The golden chest that Moses fashioned to carry the Ten Commandments, his sacred staff, and manna from heaven. It split the River Jordan, brought down the walls of Jericho. A direct line to God and a weapon of unimaginable power, capable of striking down anyone who so much as looked at it wrong.” He smiled as if sharing a private joke. “According to Sunday school, anyway.”
“It doesn’t exist,” Rick said firmly. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, which made him speak a bit louder than necessary. “Or, if it did, it’s long gone. Stolen by the Babylonians or the Egyptians, melted down, traded for, I don’t know, wheat.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes.” That smile was really starting to eat at his nerves. “It vanishes from all Biblical texts during the sixth century BCE, and nobody’s been able to track it down since. So save your breath, because I know you’re about to tell me you think you know where it is, and now you know that I know that you’re spouting bullshit. Or you’re delusional. Either way, whatever you think you’ve got, it’s not the Ark. Which means we’re not interested.”
Ibis didn’t seem too upset by Rick’s declarations. He shrugged, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets, and began to pace in a slow, ambling arc. Rick and Kai turned on the spot to keep him in their sights. Amy uttered a soft growl.
“You know your history, son, that much is clear. I wouldn’t have come to you if you didn’t. So tell me – what do you know about King Solomon?”
“The son of King David. He may or may not have existed. There’s some archaeological evidence for David, but so far Solomon hasn’t appeared outside the religious texts.”
Ibis glanced at Kai, faded green eyes twinkling. “This kid mainlining Wikipedia or something?” When Kai didn’t respond, he shrugged. “True enough. And the Queen of Sheba?”
Rick’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke more slowly. “Same deal. Maybe she was an African monarch in the Kingdom of Axum, maybe she’s just another myth. Again, there isn’t any solid evidence.”
“Now, see, you missed the most important part of the story.” Ibis raised a gloved finger in admonishment. “The Queen of Sheba was King Solomon’s lover. Out of all his wives and concubines, she was special. She had the King’s confidence as well as his heart. And when she left Jerusalem to return to her own kingdom, some say she carried something with her.”
“A son,” Rick finished. “Prince Menelik. I know where you’re going with this –”
“I don’t,” Kai said.
“It’s an old myth,” Rick told him, before Ibis could go on. “Supposedly Solomon had a son by the Queen of Sheba, Prince Menelik, who later joined Solomon’s court, only to steal the Ark of the Covenant and bring it back to Axum, now modern day Ethiopia, where it’s been kept in a dinky church ever since.”
“Not much of a romantic, are you?” But Ibis was still smiling. “That is the gist, however.”
“And I’m telling you, it’s bullshit.”
Ibis stopped his pacing and leaned against the base of a turbine, arms folded. The rain pattered on his heavy-looking poncho. Rick was soaked to the bone, but this guy looked perfectly content to stand here all day. “What makes you so certain?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Rick finally lowered his pistol and began to count off on his fingers. “There’s no evidence of an historical Queen of Sheba, or that she was ever ruler of the Kingdom of Axum. There’s no evidence of an historical Solomon. Even if there was, the timelines don’t add up. Axum didn’t exist until hundreds of years after Solomon, so their queen couldn’t have traveled to Jerusalem and borked the king. And, of course, there’s the fact that, in the three thousand years since the Ark was supposedly brought to Ethiopia, it’s never been seen by anybody outside the local clergy. Every person who’s ever tried to get a glimpse has failed. Its existence has never been confirmed.”
Ibis smiled. “Until now.”
Lighting arced overhead, accompanied by a sound like the sky being ripped open. Rick slowly shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking eyes-on confirmation.”
“That’s impossible, nobody can get into the chapel.”
“Now, you of all people know that there isn’t a place on this Earth that’s truly impenetrable. I’m telling you, son, that as recently as two weeks ago someone I know and trust laid eyes on the Ark of the Covenant. Confirmed its authenticity. It’s there, in Ethiopia, and it’s real. And I can prove it. And I want you to go get it.”
Rick found he was still shaking his head. It was impossible, everything this man was saying. The Ark – if there ever was an Ark – would be thousands of years old by now. The idea that it had been preserved for so long, in a tiny chapel in Africa, through wars and natural disasters…
And yet another part of him seized greedily upon the idea. The Ark of the Covenant. Only the most coveted artifact in all of history. The centerpiece for the world’s three largest religions. And a shit-ton of gold.
Ibis was reaching into his jacket. Rick snapped his pistol back up and Kai tensed at the same time, but the man only pulled out a sheet of paper. “Take a look.”
It was a photograph. He held it out, letting the rain patter on its glossy surface. For a moment Rick only stared at it, trying to see what the real angle was in all this. It couldn’t be what it sounded like – or maybe it was. Another fanatic who thought they’d discovered the secrets of the universe.
Just go. Leave this lunatic to catch a mold infection.
He edged forward, pistol gripped firmly, and snatched the photo before quickly retreating to Kai’s side. He glanced down, caught a glimpse of gold and felt his breath catch in his chest. The storm seemed to fall silent, the wind dying. He stared, all sense of caution forgotten.
“It’s fake,” Kai growled. “Has to be.”
“There’s more,” Ibis called. “My people did their homework, enough to convince them and me that it’s the real deal. You can peruse it all on your flight.”
Kai snapped a foul look at the man. “What flight? We haven’t agreed to anything.”
“He has.”
Rick knew Ibis was talking about him. He still couldn’t pull his own gaze from the photo. There had to be some flaw, some tiny detail that could convince him it was fake. He needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it wasn’t the real deal he was looking at. Because so long as that doubt remained…
“Rick, c’mon. Anyone could have mocked that up. It’s not even a great picture, it’s all dark…”
That was true. It had been taken in a place with low lighting. But a flash had been used, which had reflected off the -- the object, so that it shone bright gold and seemed to be emerging from shadow in a blaze of glory, the two winged figures perched on its lid raising their arms triumphantly…
Rick tore his gaze from the picture. Kai squinted at him in the rain. Neither of them spoke, communicating in that nonverbal way they had perfected years ago. After a long beat, Kai rolled his eyes, shoulders sagging.
“If there’s even a chance,” Rick said.
“A minute ago you were tearing this guy’s head off, telling him it’s all bullshit.”
“I know, but…” Rick could only shrug, still holding the photo. It wasn’t something he could put into words. “I’m not saying we go right away. But…maybe hear him out?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Kai sighed heavily, ran a hand through his sodden hair and rubbed his beard like a man waking from an unsatisfying nap. He turned slowly to face Ibis. His voice boomed over the rain. “So you want us to steal it, right? Go to Ethiopia, find this
magic box, steal it from a church?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Why am I not surprised? Explain.”
“Well, there’s Ethiopia, for one thing. They’ve been dealing with their own upheavals for decades now, and it’s coming to a head. Messily.”
“How messy?” Rick asked.
Ibis shrugged. “Not quite a civil war. But a group calling themselves the New People’s Army for a Free Ethiopia has been causing some chaos for a few years. Depending on who you ask, they’re either terrorists or freedom fighters. The Ethiopian military has kept them contained to the north, so far. Unfortunately, that’s pushed them into the Tigray region. Which…”
“Is where the Ark is,” Rick finished.
Ibis nodded. “Military operations put the kibosh on my previous attempt, but Houston proved you two have no problem moving through hostile territory. So, that’s the first wrinkle taken care of. The second is that we’re not the only ones who know about the Ark, which means we’re not the only ones looking for it. There’s another party, and they recently experienced a setback. Tragedy for them, but it more or less evened the score. We’ve got a window of opportunity, one that I think the two of you are perfectly equipped to exploit.”
Slowly, he drew an envelope from his poncho. Rick took it while Kai kept his pistol steady. Inside were a pair of badges and a second photograph. The badges already had Rick and Kai’s faces on them, along with aliases. There was a watermark on each badge, a logo and a name.
“Pharos,” Rick read. “As in the lighthouse of Alexandria?”
“That’s the name our competition is using,” Ibis explained. “They’ll be sending an operative to Ethiopia soon, someone equipped to pick up where their predecessors failed.”
Rick studied the photograph. It was a portrait of a young woman with dark curly hair that fell to her ears and a pair of chic glasses. Kai studied it over his shoulder.
“This is the new operative?”
“She will be. Estelle Kingston. She’s incredibly intelligent and will be highly motivated to find the Ark and bring it back to Pharos. But she’s also inexperienced and, due to time, likely will be entering the field alone. Play your cards right, use those badges, and you’ll be able to get close to her. Pose as a Pharos security escort. Make sure she gets to the Ark; then, when the time is right, scoop it out from under her and rendevous with me.”
Kingston. The name rang a bell, though at the moment Rick couldn’t spare focus to figure out why.
He put it from his mind for now, studying the picture and the badges. It was a solid play. They’d be able to ride the coattails of this Pharos organization, let their competition pave the way to the prize. If this woman was as naive as Ibis suggested, so much the better.
“Who exactly are these guys?” Kai asked. “Most thieving crews aren’t so blatant with their branding.”
“You wouldn’t have heard of Pharos, no. They don’t exactly go around advertising themselves. All you need to know is that they’re well-equipped. They’ve been doing this for a long time. They’ve got a nose for it, and the ambition to back it all up. It’s my intention to make sure this one slips through their fingers.”
“As a rule,” Rick said, “we avoid getting tangled up in the squabbles of our betters. Sounds like you’ve already lost a few people to this job. We’re not in the business of sticking our necks out for someone else’s vendetta.”
“Of course not. You’re in the business of making money. Of surviving. I can respect that. But I can also see that you’re too obsessed with this shit to let an opportunity like this pass you by. You knew you were going to take this job the moment you saw that photo. Admit it, Rick, and stop wasting our time. There’s no way you’re going to let anyone else get their hands on the Ark before you do.”
You don’t know me, Rick wanted to spit back. But it sounded hollow and childish. Instead he glanced again at the second photo in his hand. Rain had spotted it with dark patches like a spreading plague, but its magnetism hadn’t faded. Again he studied the detailing on the side of the chest, the golden cherubim arching over its lid, the way the flash of the camera reflected off its golden surface, seeming almost to emanate from some place deep within.
It’s fake. It has to be.
Unless, of course, it wasn’t. The Ark of the Covenant – it was the sort of thing he’d dreamed of in the archives of the museum as a kid, filling his head with visions of glittering gold to drown out the sewer stench of the real world. He wanted it to be real. If for no other reason than to feel that wonder and excitement again.
He looked up to find Kai watching him, studying him as he had been studying the picture. Rick didn’t need to say anything, Kai could see the answer in his face, but he spoke anyway, needing to say the words, to uphold the foundation of their relationship: “It’s not just my decision.”
Kai nodded, seemed to chew that over. He patted Amy on the head in a thoughtful way. Over his shoulder Rick saw Ibis watching them, arms folded, completely unaffected by the rain.
“Gonna have to get Amy’s sitter back again,” Kai finally said. He turned to Ibis. “What exactly are you offering?”
“Ten million to each of you, paid out upon safe delivery of the Ark. There’s a bonus if you can do it cleanly, no bodies. That includes Pharos’ operative. Less noise, the better. After that, if you want, we cut ties. You never see me again, and I forget all about your faces. And your names.”
Ten million. Combined with their extant savings and what they’d just been paid for Houston, it was enough for them to quit the game if they wanted. Enough to retire to some place cushy, like one of those artificial island-nations. Rick wasn’t sure he wanted that, but he could see the effect it had on Kai. For the first time, he seemed to be actually listening to Ibis’ proposal. Rick had other concerns.
“Why do you want it?” Rick demanded.
Ibis turned to him. “Does it matter?”
He thought of the archives in Houston, their contents destroyed and discarded by Chilton. “Kinda, yeah.”
“Why would anyone want the Ark of the Covenant? Power. Fortune. Think of what the right bidder would fork over for it. I’m honest enough to admit when I’m in it for a one-in-a-billion payout. Are you an honest man, Rick? Honest enough to admit that you’ve already decided to take the job?”
Instead of answering, Rick looked to Kai. “Have we decided?”
“Ten millions,” Kai muttered. He sighed. “Shit. Yeah. I’m with the tribe.”
The tribe. For those in Club Nabonidus, that extended to every other member, friend or foe. But for Rick and Kai, since childhood, since Houston, it had always and would forever mean each other. The crew of two, before all else. A private creed, hardcoded in their genome.
I’m with the tribe. Kai was with him. And Rick was in.
They both turned to the stranger, Rick tucking the photo of – he couldn’t quite say it, even in his own head – the photo of it into his pocket. “So when do we leave?”
Nine
Detroit
Michigan, The Third Coast
Booker sat on a bench near the southern tip of Belle Isle with his back to Canada and pretended to watch the James Scott Memorial Fountain shimmer in the sunlight. He was a good fifty meters away, at least, but even at that distance he could make out the extravagance of arcing jets and geysers. Couples pushing strollers, kids wasting another meaningless day of their summer break, joggers defying the heat and humidity. It was a perfectly normal, perfectly mundane day.
Booker had let Jane Baum pick the place and time. It was the least he could do, since she would be the one sticking her neck out. It was a smart choice – there was a casino just south of the fountain, and despite the early hour it had already been hopping when Booker and his team showed up. Not only would the public nature of the venue put Jane’s client at ease, assuming they weren’t trying to kill her, but it would make it that much harder for anyone who was. With a few hundred eye
witnesses and Booker’s people scattered among them, even the best assassin would have a hard time getting close to her.
Initially, that had worried Booker. The whole point of this operation was to flush out the person responsible for the deaths of Jane’s partners and -- ultimately -- the theft of the skull. Making the meet too safe risked scaring them off. But her client had responded to her message almost immediately. Even through the filter of anonymity and professionalism, Booker could tell they were pissed that it had taken this long for her to contact them. Either it was an act, or the buyer really wasn’t behind the killings. He had to force himself not to jump to conclusions, just wait for events to play out. One way or another, someone would be coming for Jane Baum today. And when they did, Booker would be ready.
Her voice came through his earbud. “Comfortable, Special Agent? Enjoying the sun? Want me to grab you a lemonade?”
Booker drew his gaze from the splashing fountain and located Jane among the crowd. It wasn’t hard – she wore a bright red baseball cap, ponytail spraying out the back, to identify her to the client as well as Booker. He zoomed in with his smart lenses, the fountain swelling to take up half his vision, and could make out the sour look on her face. She stood next to a drink vendor, looking as if she were tinkering with her phone.
“I’m good, Jane. Feel free to treat yourself, though. Any eyes on the buyer?”
“No.” Her head lifted to swivel, scanning the crowd around her. “You’re assuming this guy is actually going to show his face. If I were him, I’d just go all Predator again and snap my neck.”
“Uh-huh. Well, just stay on the circuit and keep your eyes peeled.” Booker checked the time. “They’re due to show any minute now.”
She sighed, a hissing tickle in his ear, and began to move. He tracked her as she circled the fountain for the fifth time that morning, hands shoved into her pockets, head down.
Beyond her, across the river, was the cityscape of Detroit. The towers of the Radical Dynamics campus, which also doubled as the company’s international headquarters, shone brightly along the opposite bank. Booker, who had grown up in Detroit, had been born years after the founding of the company, but he could still remember when the city had looked smaller. It had been growing explosively ever since Nasim al-Faradi had moved in, taking advantage of low property values and using the revenue from her revolutionary desalination technology to jumpstart the Great Lakes water trade and establish the infrastructure that would make it all possible. The company had brought Detroit back from decades teetering on the brink of extinction, creating thousands of new jobs. Booker’s father had gotten a tech position through the company’s long-running Fresh Start program, designed to ease the ongoing transition as so many of the old jobs became automated. Years later, Booker himself would win a scholarship to attend the University of Michigan.
A Covenant of Thieves Page 14
