The Columbus Affair: A Novel

CHAPTER TWELVE

ZACHARIAH ENTERED THE ROOM AND CLOSED THE DOOR. HE’D driven straight back from Mount Dora to Orlando and his west side hotel. He quickly found his laptop and connected to the Internet, linking with a secured server in Austria, the same one used during the video transmission to Tom Sagan. He’d commissioned the system himself, equipped with an ultra-sophisticated encryption program. He checked in with his personal secretary in Austria, satisfied that nothing required his immediate attention. He then severed the link and ordered food from room service.

Sagan was cooperating. He’d signed the papers and would be at the cemetery in the morning.

He’d accomplished the first phase.

But time was running short.

He’d read the American press reports, lauding the coming summit. Danny Daniels, the president of the United States, in his final year in office, had staked his legacy on securing some sort of lasting Mideast peace. Thankfully, that summit was still four months away.

Plenty of time for him to complete what he’d started.

But what he sought had stayed hidden a long time.

Could it all be myth?

No. It existed. It had to. God would not have allowed anything less.

Alle had confirmed that her grandfather ordered a packet buried with him, contrary to Orthodox tradition, where nothing save the body went into the grave. Even more convincing was the fact that she knew information that no one, short of the Levite, could possibly know.

He was on the right path.

He had to be.

Surely the Levite had been cautious in what he shared with his granddaughter, given the task was exclusively for a male. Abiram Sagan could not pass ultimate responsibility to his granddaughter. So he solved his dilemma by taking the secret with him to his grave.

Thankfully, he had Alle totally under his control. A willing partner with no knowledge of what was truly involved. She was an ideologue, consumed by her passion for her new religion and her grandfather’s memory. Her beliefs were sincere. All she required was careful handling.

And that he would provide.

Until she was no longer useful.

Then he would kill Alle Becket.

———

ALLE WAS INTRIGUED, SO SHE ASKED, “WHAT ABOUT ZACHARIAH Simon?”

“He should be a concern of yours,” the man sitting across the table said.

She wasn’t in the mood for more games. “Do you plan to explain yourself? Or do I leave?”

“You met Simon in Spain. Didn’t you find it strange that he found you?”

“I don’t even know your name.”

He smiled. “Call me Brian.”

“Why are you here?”

“I came to speak with you. Privately.”

Cautionary flags rose. This stranger was frightening her to the point that she even wished Rócha and Midnight were around.

Brian reached into his pocket and withdrew some folded sheets of glossy paper, which she recognized as her article from Minerva.

“I read this,” he said. “Fascinating stuff. Let me guess, Simon wanted to know your sources.”

It had been one of the first things they’d talked about, along with the fact that they were both Reform Jews. She’d immediately liked that about him. Unlike the Orthodox, Reform Jews believed the Torah, though divinely inspired, was actually written, edited, and revised by man. And while Reform Jews revered the Torah’s values and ethics, they were free to follow whatever they believed would enhance their personal relationship with God. Nothing was absolute. Everything was subject to interpretation. Even more important to her, Reform Jews treated the sexes equally.

“You still haven’t said what you want.”

The waiter returned with her wine.

“No, thank you,” Brian said to her. “I wouldn’t care for anything.”

To spite him, she savored a sip. “You won’t be here long.”

“Zachariah Simon is not what he claims to be. He’s using you.”

“For what?”

“To find out what your grandfather knew.”

She sipped more of the wine, trying to appreciate the smoky aftertaste. “How do you know this?”

“I know that he’s in Florida, where your grandfather is buried. I know that he’s made contact with your father. I also know that you just lied to your father in a shameful charade.”

“And the reason you’ve come here to insult me?”

“To try and save your miserable life.”