by Tom Haase
“Why do you want her dead?” Kesi asked.
“That is a personal matter. I'm not paying you to ask questions,” came the terse reply over the phone.
“Speaking of paying, there will be some extra charges above our normal,” Kesi said.
“I expected there would be. You will have travel expenses, bribes, and in- country expenditures.” The voice on the other end of the phone spoke in an authoritative manner and appeared to know how the system worked. “What is your price?”
Kesi anticipated that question and added a substantial padding to what he wanted to cover all the extras. He hesitated for a few seconds to make the man wait and hopefully cause him to agree to the figure. He gave the figure and waited.
“I'll double that figure and deposit one half of the money to any account you give me. The rest depends on you performing the contract within five days. She is scheduled to depart the location I gave you on that date. Have it completed and verified and the rest will be in your account within twenty-four hours. Any question?” the voice on the phone asked.
“Yes, we need to know your name and contact number to get back to you.” Kesi didn't think he would give it but decided to try.
He received a surprise when the man spoke. “My name is Schultz and the only number you are ever to use to contact me is”—he gave the number.
“You are generous in your payments. There must be a great reason to have this woman killed. We'll do it. We'll call you in five days. It would help me if you would tell me why you want her dead.”
A long silence ensued, but the phone line stayed open.
“She killed my son.”
30
Jerusalem
“Why are we going to go by the dead bishop’s house?” Bridget asked.
“I just thought it might be a good idea to at least see the place,” Scott responded. “Besides, it might—hey, isn't that our new buddy going around the corner? His gait is unmistakable.”
“I saw somebody go around the corner but didn't get a chance to make out if it was him,” Bridget said.
The taxi pulled to a stop in front of the address they had given the driver.
“What the hell is he doing here? He said he would be at the hotel.”
“If it was him, methinks we have a problem with our reporter,” Bridget concluded. “I can see crime scene tape all over this place and we came in a taxi. I don't think it would be wise to get out here. Let's just go to the hotel and see if we can talk to Mr. Jake. Besides, it's been a long day, and I'm exhausted. I haven't had a night’s sleep in two days.” Bridget ordered the taxi to take them to the hotel.
A half hour later at nine o'clock, Bridget and Scott sat eating in the hotel café.
“I was starved,” said Bridget. “I'd forgotten how long it was since I ate a meal. Let's go over and have a short drink and then I need to get to bed. I'm exhausted. We can corner Jake in the morning.”
“That sounds like a plan. I'm not exactly tired, since I've had a good night’s sleep, but you go ahead and get a good rest tonight,” Scott said.
As the Donavans started walking toward the entrance to the hotel's bar, Bridget put her hand out and stopped Scott. She pointed. Scott saw the reporter outside talking on a cell phone.
“Let's find out if he's been here all evening or if he was at the bishop's house,” Bridget said.
They watched as Jake punched his cell to end after taking it from his ear. He walked toward the hotel bar without looking around. Scott and Bridget entered the bar after him and went over to where Jake sat with a drink. He had both elbows on top of the bar and sipped on what looked like a martini with the olives on a toothpick.
“Mr. Jake, we've been looking for you. Have you been here since you dropped us off?” Scott asked.
Cornelius looked over his shoulder at them. He did not flinch or look away but stared straight at them.
“After I dropped you off I returned here to the hotel, been waiting on you to come and tell me what you learned. Remember, I'm the guy who can validate your story.”
Bridget felt something, a twist, something told her to be careful. Why hadn't the reporter wanted to be with them if they found out something significant at the bishop's house? Wouldn't he want to be there instead of hearing about it second hand from them? That thought made her even more skeptical.
“We talked to the bishop, and he said he didn't have any information on the Bible and referred us to an old monk who also couldn’t shed much light on what we are looking for. Seems like we've hit a dead end. I'm exhausted and want to get some sleep. We can start over again tomorrow.”
“Sorry about that, I was hoping you would find out something valuable. I'm headed to bed and I'll see you in the morning,” he said as he downed the rest of his drink, picked up his large briefcase, and then headed toward the door. They watched him depart.
“It must've been somebody else we saw,” Scott said.
“Remember, you're the one who saw something. I'm, however, not so sure that you didn't see him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don't know. I just get a bad feeling about our Washington reporter. That feeling you get when somebody is lying to you but you can't prove it. You know what I mean?” Bridget asked. “I'm going to go upstairs for a god night’s sleep. I'm exhausted.”
31
Jerusalem
Bridget swept the hotel card through the cipher slide and pushed on the door to her room. She glanced at her watch and saw that it approached nine thirty. She encountered difficulty moving her legs forward after staying awake for over twenty hours. She just wanted to crawl into bed. The hotel room door swung shut but she didn't hear it click behind her as she stepped past the doorway to the small bathroom on the right side. She started to reach to flip the light switch that would illuminate her entire room but turned back to slam the door shut.
A hand grabbed her arm in mid-turn. She reacted too slowly and her arm came up in a twisting motion behind her back. Another hand clamped her mouth shut by pulling vigorously upward under her chin. Her head flew backwards, and she felt a crack in her spine. The pain shot straight to her brain and immobilized her for a second. She tried to scream, but no noise came out. The hand kept her mouth shut. She figured it must be a man because of the strength exerted against her. Regaining some focus, she used her right foot and tried to slam it up into the crotch of the person behind her. That didn't work either as he deftly moved just a few inches and her foot contacted with his leg, doing no damage.
Bridget couldn't comprehend why someone would attack her in a hotel. The man forced her toward the bed. He shoved her forward and her legs hit on the wooden bed frame as she plummeted onto the blue bedspread. Her shins sent more pain messages to her now overloaded brain, but they got through and she crunched her eyes in searing pain. He jumped on top of her faster than she could take one breath. He yanked her other arm behind her. She felt the plastic wraps go on and realized she needed to get away now or never. Her feet weren't tied so maybe she could run. She made a great effort to get up, to try to get to the door, but she couldn't turn over to roll up and without her hands to help, she couldn't push herself up. Her attempt to roll over failed.
She felt hands grab her and flip her over giving her a chance to shout. Before she could utter a sound a piece of ripped up pillowcase went into her mouth. The gag caused her to gulp for air through her nose. She resorted to short, quick breaths through her nose to prevent suffocation. At that second, her eyes focused on the huge man. He was African, and he looked familiar.
“You can't get away bitch. I'm going to punish you for what you did me.” The raspy voice conveyed his intentions. Bridget held no illusion now as to her dire predicament.
Bridget's mind started to focus. She must overcome the fear. Concentrate, then something crystallized. She did recognize the man, the one who attacked her with a machete on her archaeological dig in Ethiopia. She sliced him across his stomach with his own blade. How in the hell
did he get here?
“You caused me great pain,” he said. “I am going to cause you great pain. The difference is you will not survive. Kesi is going to have fun with you, big tits.”
Bridget felt his hands reach for her blouse and rip it open. She tried to squirm, but he put one hand around her neck to settle her down. Kesi took a piece of rope from his pocket and tied it around her neck. He lashed the other end to the bedpost. Now even her last hope of running disappeared.
He tied the knot. She tried one final thing and lashed out with a leg aiming for his crotch. This time she connected, and he let out a clenched teeth groan. With lightning speed, his left hand slammed back across her face tearing her lip open and causing her nose to bleed. It hurt like hell.
A blade appeared in his hand. He bent over and sliced open the center of her bra. He looked at her and deliberately moved the knife between her breasts. With wide-eyed excitement in his face, he moved the knife between them and slit a fine line. The knife must be sharp for it not to hurt immediately. Then the monster used his free hand to spread the blood over her boobs.
“That looks better. I like a little blood on my victims. Now I want to feel you, bitch.”
He massaged it in and squeezed the left breast so hard she thought she would gag to death with her attempt to get air in through her mouth. He stared at her for a long time. Then his hands moved in a blur as he ripped and tore the rest of her clothes from her body.
“I'm going to enjoy this. I'm going to fuck you in every orifice you have before I finish.”
The big man reached down and played with himself. And then he started undressing. Bridget squirmed, but this action caused the rope around her neck to cut off her air supply and she stopped. The remaining weapons she could employ were her feet, but they were of little use. She could find no way to achieve purchase to employ them effectively against such a large man. She was running out of options. At this moment, nothing she could think would save her.
“Look at me, bitch,” the man said as he manipulated his massive organ, getting it ready.
Fear shot through Bridget. She didn't think she'd ever seen anything that big, and she sure as hell did not want to have it in her. She started to squirm trying to do anything that might slow him down. Concentrate - wait for an opportunity, be ready.
“Now for some fun,” he said, holding his manhood with his left and prying her legs apart using the knife in his other hand.
Bridget experienced fear like she never imagined. It didn't seem anything could be so primitive. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and her body started to convulse all over. Her stomach contracted into a tight knot of muscle spasms.
This couldn't be happening.
32
Jerusalem
Hotel Bar
Scott ordered a Heineken beer after Bridget went upstairs to her room. He took the first sip and felt a hand on his shoulder. He swiveled on the barstool and looked into the face of the wicked witch of the West. He thought, the wicked bitch of the West.
“Hello, Scott, anything new on the search?” Gerti asked.
“Not really. We’ve found some interesting information but nothing that will lead us directly to the Bible.” Scott described their meeting with the bishop and with a Franciscan monk.
“What's your plan now?”
Before he could answer, he caught sight of Monsignor Jonathan McGregor entering the hotel lobby. Jonathan turned toward him. The priest, a perpetual observer, noticed everything around him at all times. Scott learned that in their previous encounters. Jonathan had saved their lives in the shootout in the fortress at St. Augustine, Florida.
“Right now I'm going over to say hello to an old friend,” Scott said.
She looked at him with a blank stare, and he walked toward Jonathan with his hand extended. The priest wore the Roman collar and walked with a slight limp. Scott knew at certain times the pain caused McGregor to use a cane but not at present.
“My God, you are looking good,” Jonathan said as he shook Scott's hand.
Scott led Jonathan to where Gerti stood waiting. He introduced Monsignor Jonathan McGregor to Gertrude Shultz. She offered her hand and a limp smile. Scott wanted to be nice to her, but she made it difficult. He took a keen interest in the woman. He couldn’t explain it, but something about her intrigued him.
“Gerti's father is the one who is providing the financial support for our search for the Bible of Constantine. A Mr. Jake from the Washington Post has offered to document the events leading to us finding the Bible so there are no mix-ups like last time.” Scott looked down when he said this and wished he had kept his mouth shut about the previous event in which Jonathan was a principal participant.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Jonathan said to Gerti.
Scott decided to shift the subject to the present. “Were you able to find out any new information about the book?”
“Where's Bridget?” Jonathan ignored the question about the Bible and Scott realized how stupid of him to bring it up. Jonathan didn't know anything about the woman, and he possessed no way of knowing if he could trust her with any information that he might have.
“She just went upstairs, but I think she would love to see you. Let's go up before she has a chance to go to sleep,” Scott suggested.
“No, I don't want to bother her this late at night,” Jonathan said.
“She probably needs her sleep after such a trying day,” Gerti added. “I don't think we should bother her. Tomorrow will be fine, wouldn't it, Monsignor?”
Scott didn't like the way she said that last statement. It sounded like she wanted to be in charge and her position should prevail. He needed to act and act now. Before Jonathan could respond, Scott faced Gerti.
“Don't be silly. She would kill me if I didn't bring him up. She'll be surprised. Come on, let's go,” Scott said as he took Jonathan by the arm and used his head to indicate for Gerti to follow them. He silently congratulated himself on taking control.
Scott allowed Gerti to get off the elevator first. He then pointed to Bridget's room but held out his hand to stop.
“She’d never leave her door ajar,” Scott whispered out of the corner of his mouth, he saw Jonathan put down his briefcase, open it, and pull out a handgun. Gerti started to say something, but Scott put a finger in front of his mouth to warn her to be quiet.
“Any time I'm around you and Bridget I have to be prepared,” Jonathan whispered as he slid a round into the chamber of the silenced weapon. “You perpetually surprise me with the trouble you can get into.”
“She doesn't even know that it didn't shut properly when she went in. Let's just knock and go in. This is stupid. You’re both acting like children. Nothing bad is going to happen in this hotel.” Gerti tried to push forward toward the door.
Scott shoved Gerti away from the entrance to Bridget's room. He plastered her back against the corridor wall. “Be quiet and don't move,” Scott ordered. He glared straight into her eyes as he said this. He took her face in his hands and said, “I don't want you to get hurt.”
He heard the ping sound of a text message arrival on her cell phone. She took it out and looked at it and started to say something but Scott shushed her. Damn, why couldn't she be quiet in case this turned into something bad.
Scott returned to the door and put his hand on the knob. Then looked at Jonathan. Scott’s heart started to pound in his chest. He could feel the throbbing in his ears. This was not how he thought the reunion with Jonathan would go. He looked behind and Gerti remained still, out of the way. He smiled at her as he tightened his grip on the knob.
Jonathan nodded, signaling his readiness. Taking a deep breath, tensing all over, Scott pushed the door open with such force that it ricocheted off the wall. It impacted against his shoulder and he started to fall.
Jonathan steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. The sight in front of them—a big black man held a knife in one hand and his enlarged member in the other—left no doubt about what event wou
ld come next for Bridget's hogtied naked body.
“Bridget,” Scott screamed.
The man whirled. He made a grotesque guttural sound. In less than a second he raised his arm, and with the flick of his downward plunging hand, he threw the knife. Scott ducked as the shimmering blade passed over his head. The sound of the knife slicing through the air reached his ears as the weapon passed.
“Aaahhh!” came the high-pitched scream just behind him.
In what became a blur, Scott saw the muzzle flash before he heard the muted sound. He looked up as the splatter of the man's blood hit the wall behind the bed. The attempted rapist clutched his throat where the first bullet hit. A micro second later the second round left the silenced weapon. The gun made more noise than Scott thought it would but definitely not on the scale of a normal discharge from a weapon.
“Stay down,” Jonathan ordered.
The second round entered into the rapist's eye cavity and twisted his head to one side. He tumbled away from where Bridget lay bound and gagged. With an audible thud his head bounced as it hit the floor.
Scott rotated from his lowered position into the direction from which the scream emanated. He caught Gerti as she fell forward with the knife impaled in her shoulder.
33
Israeli Army Headquarters
General Ara Grossman, head of the Israeli army, extended his hand toward Matt. The general smiled and pumped Matt's hand vigorously.
“Welcome to Israel, Captain,” the general said.
“Thank you, sir, but I am no longer a captain.” Scott followed the general to a chair next to his desk. The general indicated for him to sit. He did so.
