The Second Messiah

A moment later the plane lurched and a cabin light chimed on. The cabin door opened and Hassan appeared, slid into the seat, and buckled his belt. “You made it clear to Cane what will happen if his friend Savage messes this up?”

“Yes, Hassan.”

“Good.” Hassan glared at Jack. “Remember the warning, Cane.”

The Lear banked sharply and dipped again, the landing gear whirring into place. Jack peered past the window. A faint orange glow streaked the horizon. He thought he recognized the distant shape of the mountains of Edom.

Minutes later the knot of fear he felt in his stomach turned to steel as the Lear finally touched down with a wild squeal of rubber.

133

Three hundred miles away, another Lear jet was fifteen minutes from commencing its final approach into Tel Aviv’s Ben-Gurion Airport.

Julius Weiss handed a satellite phone back to his aide, who immediately exited the cabin. Weiss sighed, made a steeple of his fingers, and turned to address Ari and Lela, seated opposite.

“It seems our intelligence was right. Air traffic control registered that the helicopter from Bracciano landed at a private airfield outside Rome. Fifteen minutes later the Lear jet owned by Hassan Malik departed the same airfield, with a flight plan bound for Beirut. However, they altered the flight plan midflight.”

“For where?” Ari asked.

“Amman, Jordan. Except Amman air traffic control hasn’t heard from them yet. Hassan Malik may well have used the Beirut and Amman destinations as a ploy. Which means he could be headed anywhere.” Weiss’s mouth tightened in a look of frustration. “What the devil is he up to? We logged another flight Hassan made yesterday to Amman.”

Lela frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“He flew to Amman in his private jet, with his brother’s body on board. Where he went after that we couldn’t determine. But less than three hours later he flew back to Rome, minus the body. It seems he may have buried his brother. And one of our operatives too.”

“Who?”

Weiss addressed Lela. “The Bedu foreman on the Qumran site, Josuf. He was an occasional source who fed us tidbits of information when it suited him. It was he who told us Cane was headed for

Maloula. Josuf was due to contact Mossad yesterday but hasn’t been heard of. I have a terrible feeling that Hassan may have discovered his treachery and dealt with him.”

Weiss fixed Lela with an icy stare. “Well, Inspector, any suggestions as to where we might find Hassan? Seeing as you helped to get us into this mess?”

“My gut instinct tells me he’s headed to wherever Jack hid the scroll, which is probably somewhere near Qumran. There must be dozens of abandoned military airfields out in the desert where his aircraft could land.”

“You have a point.”

Ari said to Lela, “Maybe he’s already killed Cane.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep him alive until the scroll’s retrieved?”

Weiss considered, then ran a hand tiredly over his face and sighed again. “Maybe, but Hassan’s a wily fox who has the advantage. And our big problem is that Cane really could have hidden the scroll anywhere, not just near Qumran.”

Lela said, “What if Hassan finds it?”

“Then all hell will break loose. I do hope you have a good pension plan, Inspector.” Weiss suddenly looked tired. “In fact, I’m going to need one myself. To be honest, I intend to hand in my resignation to the prime minister as of tomorrow. I’m getting too old for this game, and I’m not sure I like it anymore. Maybe it’s time to do something less stressful, like opening a topless bar in Gaza.”

Weiss’s aide came though the cabin again, still holding the satellite telephone. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but it’s urgent. Another call has come through and I have a feeling we may need to overfly Tel Aviv. Detour to one of our military air bases near the Jordanian border.”

“What the devil are you talking about? A call from whom?” Weiss demanded.

“Sergeant Mosberg from the Jerusalem police. He wants to speak with Inspector Raul.”

134

Buddy Savage halted the Land Cruiser and killed the headlights. He was fifteen minutes from the Jordanian border. Barren desert lay ahead, broken only by clumps of rocks and a few palm-fringed wadis.

He knew that the nearest Israeli military outpost was five miles away but their patrols diligently scoured the surrounding area. Savage worried about that. Just as he worried about how the endgame was going to play out. He plucked a pair of powerful Zeiss binoculars from the glove compartment and swept the landscape, dusky with a faint murky gray.

Nothing.

Not even a light or a plume of dust to indicate that he wasn’t alone. His cell phone chirped. Savage’s heart skipped. He flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“Are you near the rendezvous, Savage?”

“Near enough. Maybe fifteen minutes away.”

“Continue to drive southeast. After five miles you’ll reach a wadi, with a half-dozen palms. Halt your vehicle, step twenty yards away from it, and wait.”

Savage didn’t reply.

The silence went on and then the voice said, “Did you hear me, Savage?”