The Solomon Scroll

CHAPTER 15

Nazar Al-Bayati sat on the patio of his fortified compound and looked out over the Mediterranean at the blazing ball of the sun dropping toward the horizon. He never got tired of the Mediterranean sunsets, especially when the fiery colors were partly obscured by black clouds, as if the world burned. It reminded him of pleasant times spent in the presence of heat and darkness, fire and the sweet smoke of incense.

The scroll was never far from his mind. Solomon had been one of the great ancient magicians, in the tradition of Bayati's ancestors. It was said that objects of power had been buried with him. There was one in particular Bayati sought. If it was in the tomb and if he could find it, the world would be his. Bayati believed in magic. He had seen too many strange phenomenon in his life to think that magic wasn't real. Of course it required great skill and preparation to hold and use it. He knew what was required.

Rituals and sacrifices, rites that were older than the pyramids.

Today began a new lunar cycle. Nazar absentmindedly fingered his crotch in anticipation of the ceremony that would take place later. Before then there was business to attend to.

He rose, went into the house and beckoned a servant.

"Find Rhoades and send him to my study."

"At once, Abu."

The man scurried away. Al-Bayati went to a sideboard of rosewood inlaid with gold that stood by the near wall, a piece that had once graced the Emperor Napoleon's private study. He pressed a carved rosette on the corner and a panel slid down on the end, revealing a hidden compartment. A dozen foil wrapped balls the size of marbles rested on a tray inside. Beside them were six glass vials containing tablets of an odd brown color. The last item inside the cabinet was an ancient green bottle.

Al-Bayati took one of the balls and placed it on top of the sideboard on a silver tray. He opened a vial, shook two pills onto his hand and set the vial down. He took two more pills and set them down next to the ball. He took the cork out of the green bottle and washed down the pills with a swallow of the liquid it contained. The liquor burned on its way down. Al-Bayati put the cork back in the bottle, the bottle and the vial back into the cabinet, and touched the rosette again. The panel sprang upward and locked with a sharp click. Al-Bayati sat down in a broad leather chair.

Addison Rhoades came into the room. Al-Bayati felt the first rush of the drugs ripple through him in a wave. The main effect was still an hour away. By then everything would be ready.

"You sent for me?"

"You know about Yusuf?"

Rhoades nodded.

"What happened?"

Rhoades shrugged. "Perhaps he made a deal with the wrong people or gave them the wrong goods."

"I want you to find out who killed him."

"It shouldn't be too hard," Rhoades said. "He was approached by a woman in the club. There are cameras. Nothing in the alley where he died. Plenty of tape from inside."

"Get the tapes. I don't think it was an unhappy client."

"Who else would it be?"

"Who knows? The Israelis, perhaps? However I think they would be more subtle. It may have been someone with an interest in my affairs."

"It's possible," Rhoades said. "I'll look into it."

"Something else. There is another scroll," Al-Bayati said. "I want you to obtain it. It may help us find the tomb."

"Another? Where is it?"

"In the British Museum. Locate it and bring it to me."

Rhoades looked nervous. "It's too late to go today…"

Al-Bayati laughed. "Don't worry, you don't have to go until tomorrow. You know I need you to assist me. Is everything prepared?"

"Yes. The new moon will rise in about forty minutes."

"The boy?"

"In his room. He has already received the drug."

"Good. Go over to the sideboard. You'll find what you need there."

Rhoades walked over to the sideboard and picked up the foil wrapped ball. He popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

"Get the boy ready and bring him to my bedroom."

Rhoades left the room and Al-Bayati leaned back in the comfortable chair and closed his eyes, feeling the power of the ancient drugs begin to lift him into a different realm.

The formulas Al-Bayati used to create his heightened awareness dated back thousands of years, to a time when Carthage had been as great as her rival Rome. Nazar believed he was descended from a high priest of Carthage. It was as his father had taught him, as his father had been taught as well, going back in an unbroken line through the millennia

Carthage had long since turned to dust but the true religion had been kept alive in secret throughout the centuries. There had always been worshipers and priests to serve the god. Now, most of the followers were gone. Nazar was the last of his line, the last who knew the true mysteries. He'd been unable to sire a male heir. If there was one thing in his life he regretted, it was that. Not long ago he had come to the realization that time was running out for him. The women he had coupled with in the past had failed to produce a male child, always it was a girl. The women disappeared. He'd found another use for the girls who were born.

No one had ever bothered to ask what happened to the women. They wouldn't have dared. People didn't ask Nazar Al-Bayati about things like that. He had his eye on a new candidate. If she didn't produce, Al-Bayati had come to the conclusion he would have to choose a successor not of his blood. It was a difficult realization, one he did not want to accept. Tonight's sacrifice would be special, meant to draw the god's favor to him. Surely, his prayer would be answered.

He stood and swayed for a moment as his body adjusted to the drugs. Everything in the room glowed with light and color. The soft touch of his silk robe was like a caress. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins and heat in his groin. The god was not jealous. The boy's virginity was not a requirement.

The power of his youthful blood was what counted.