Solomon's Gold

CHAPTER 18

The expedition left the hotel the next morning after a breakfast that included shakshuka, an egg dish with lamb meatballs, tomatoes and peppers. It was cool outside, the temperature in the high forties. In the summer months, the temperature during the day in this part of the Negev would rise to well over a hundred degrees. At this time of year, it would only reach the eighties.

Mount Karkom was a forty minute drive from the hotel. For the last part of the drive they could see the mountain looming ahead of them on the desert plain. It had an odd, orange-yellow color in the morning sun.

"They call this the saffron mountain," Rivka said. "When you look at it in the morning light like this, you can see why."

They parked the vehicles near the base of the mountain. The first thing Nick noticed were carvings etched into stones scattered all about the desert floor.

"What is this place?" Nick asked. "Why are there all these carvings?"

"People have been coming here long before there was an Israel," Rivka said. "Most of the carvings date back more than ten thousand years. The mountain was a center of Stone Age worship. You'll find altars, thousands of carvings, circles of stone, you name it."

The rocks bore pictures almost everywhere they looked. Selena pointed at one carved with the image of an animal with huge, curved horns.

"That one looks like an Ibex."

"You're right, that's an Ibex," Rivka said. "They're native to the area. There are over forty thousand carvings here."

"How the hell are we going to find an eye in the middle of all this?" Lamont said. "And even if we do, so what? What's it going to tell us?"

"It would show that we're on the right track," Nick said. "Besides, it might not be an eye. We won't know what it is until we find it."

"If there are forty thousand carvings, the only way we'll find it is to get lucky," Ronnie said.

"We could narrow it down some," Selena said.

"How so?" Nick asked.

"The scroll says to follow in the steps of Moses. What did Moses do on Mount Sinai?"

"He went up to the top. That's where God is supposed to have given him the Ten Commandments."

"Right. So let's do what Moses did and climb to the top."

Ronnie gestured at the base of the mountain a few hundred yards away, where the slope looked shallow enough to climb.

"We could start over there and make our way up."

"I think I'll wait down here," Miriam said. "That breakfast didn't sit too well. I feel a little sick."

"Would you like me to stay with you?" Friedman said. His voice was solicitous.

"I'll be fine Alan. You don't need to worry about me."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Watch for snakes on the way up," Rivka said.

"What snakes?" Selena asked.

"We have poisonous snakes, Vipers. They're really nasty. Then there are scorpions. There are two bad ones in this region, the Deathstalker and the Southern Man Killer."

"Sounds lovely."

"Spiders, too. I don't think we'll see a Black Widow out here but you might run into a Mediterranean Recluse. That one can kill you, and there's no anti-venom for it. Be careful where you step and don't go reaching under any rocks without looking."

"Now I'm really glad I'm staying down here," Miriam said.

"I'll stay with the vehicles," Gideon said. "There's no one else around at the moment, but it's early. There will be tourists, sooner or later."

"Okay," Nick said. "Let's go. It can't be too difficult to climb. If Moses could do it, so can we. We should be back down in a few hours."

They set off toward the spot Ronnie had pointed at and began the climb. Gideon and Miriam watched them until the path they followed took them out of sight.

Miriam gestured at the rocks scattered about. "I think I'll wander around and look at some of these carvings."

"I'm going to hang out in one of the vehicles. Enjoy yourself."

Gideon walked to one of the trucks and climbed in. He leaned back in his seat and pulled his cap down to shade his eyes.

Miriam walked into the desert. When she thought she was far enough from the truck, she took a satellite phone from her belt pack and punched in a number.

"Yes."

"Hassan, it's me."

If Gideon had been nearby, he would've recognized the language she was speaking as Farsi.

"What is your status?"

"They are climbing the mountain," Miriam said. "One of the Jews stayed behind to guard the vehicles."

"How long will they be gone?"

"My guess is about three or four hours," Miriam said.

"Is anyone else present? Tourists?"

"No."

"The Americans have been identified. They are spies who have caused us much trouble in the past. It has been decided to eliminate them."

"Shouldn't we continue to let them lead the way and do the work for us?"

"Are you questioning your orders?"

"No, of course not."

"We have the same information they do. We will find it ourselves."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Eliminate the Jew. We'll be there in twenty minutes."

Hassan disconnected.

Miriam was neither Jewish nor American. Her real name was Ayala Farshid, and she'd been born in Tehran. Her father had been one of the first to join the Revolutionary Guard. Ayala thought of herself as a patriot, a sword of Allah.

She'd been inserted into the Museum in New York because Friedman was an important figure in the American Jewish community, well-connected. People told him things, wrote to him, solicited his advice. Her assignment had been to collect information about the upcoming Jewish World Conference. She assumed there would be an attack on the conference and that many would die. It bothered her not at all. As far as she was concerned, a dead Jew was a good Jew. It was Ayala who had passed on the information leading to the theft of the scroll and the death of the museum guard.

After today, she could stop pretending to be one of the people she hated. After today, she could return to being herself. Perhaps she could even go home. But first there were things that needed to be done.

She put the phone away and walked casually back toward the vehicles. It was beginning to get hot. Gideon was dozing in his seat, his hands clasped in front of him, his hat pulled low.

This is too easy, she thought.

When she was a few steps away, she reached into the pack on her belt. This time she took out a folding knife. The blade made a soft snicking sound as she opened it. The sound registered somewhere in Gideon's awareness. He opened his eyes wide and reached for his pistol, but he was too late. Ayala drove the gleaming blade deep into the side of his neck and twisted, cutting through the carotid artery. Blood fountained out from the gash. Gideon convulsed and gagged, still trying to reach his pistol. Then he slumped forward onto the dashboard and died.

Ayala stepped back and wiped the blade on Gideon's shirt. Blood ran down the side of the seat and under the door, dripping down onto the desert.

It always surprised her, that the body contained so much blood.

She reached in through the window, moved Gideon's body back against the seat, and pulled his hat down over his eyes. It looked as though he was sleeping. She rinsed a little blood off her hands with water from her canteen and waited for the others.