The Second Messiah

Savage stepped over and put the Browning against the back of Hassan’s neck. “Go ahead, try to pick it up. But it’ll be the last thing you’ll ever do.”

Hassan turned and collapsed in the sand, clutching his bloody shoulder and staring up at Savage with a look of pure vehemence. “You’ve signed your own death warrant, American.”

“I did that long ago.” Savage picked up the Heckler & Koch.

Jack crossed to Hassan, searched his pocket, and pulled out his cell phone.

Savage said, “What are you doing?”

“Bringing this to an end.” Jack tossed the phone to Hassan. “Call your sister. Tell her to come here alone. And I mean alone.”

138

Moments after Hassan made the call they saw the headlights appear. Dawn’s burnt orange painted the horizon. The approaching vehicle, a light-colored pickup, was visible in the distance. Savage looked worried as he went over to the Serb’s sprawled body, felt for a pulse, and said, “He’s gone. It couldn’t be helped.”

He crossed to Hassan, examined his bloody shoulder, and said, “I’ve seen worse. You’ll live.”

“But will you, Savage?” Hassan replied sourly.

“You’re perky, I’ll give you that.” He turned to Jack. “Who is he?”

“His name’s Hassan Malik.”

Savage raised an eye. “I’ve heard stories about him. Poor Bedu boy turned rich. That the guy?”

“Yes.” Jack saw the headlights speed closer. “Where did you learn how to shoot like that?”

“Once a marine, always a marine. Tell me more about Hassan. What’s his angle in all of this?”

By the time Jack told him, the headlights were less than a hundred yards away. “Cover the pickup, just in case,” he told Savage.

Savage leveled the Heckler & Koch and shook his head in disbelief. “What a story. He planted the scroll?”

“He wanted it found and the world to know about it, Buddy.”

“I guess he succeeded. And destroyed us all in the process.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Before Buddy could reply, the pickup halted thirty yards away. Yasmin jumped out, saw the Serb’s body, and ran to her brother. “Hassan!”

Jack said, “He’s lost some blood. Get him to a doctor as quick you as can.”

Jack helped her maneuver Hassan over to the pickup and sat him in the passenger seat. “Let it end here, Hassan. Let it end and we both get on with our lives.”

With that, Jack said to Savage, “Give me the briefcase.”

“What?”

“Just give it to me, Buddy.”

Savage picked it up, crossed to Jack, and asked, “What’s going on?”

Jack tugged the briefcase from Savage’s grasp, “The scroll’s caused nothing but death and trouble. Maybe if he has it back that’ll be the end of it.” Jack thrust the case into Hassan’s chest. “Take it and let’s call it quits. Head back over the Jordanian border; they can’t touch you there. Now get out of here fast.”

Savage brandished the pistol. “Are you crazy? That’s not the deal I made, Jack.”

“What deal? With who?”

A second later a long string of headlights appeared and the faint rumble of engines sounded, moving fast across the desert, heading toward them at high speed from the Israeli border. Savage said, “The Israelis.”

Hassan stared out at the approaching headlights with no sign of fear and said, “You’re a strange man, Cane. But an honorable one.”

Savage brandished the machine pistol. “Give the briefcase back.”

Jack said, “No, Buddy—at least this way the scroll stands a chance of being made public. If the Israelis get their hands on it, it may never see the light of day.”

Hassan grunted, clutching his wound, the bleeding getting worse. “Ma’assalama, Cane.”

“Ma’assalama.”

Yasmin stared at Jack, their eyes met, and she started to say something, to touch his arm, but Jack said, “Move, before the Israelis get here or your brother bleeds to death.”

“We owe you our gratitude,” Yasmin said.

“You owe me nothing. Just keep your brother out of my life. And you try to live a long one.”

Yasmin’s lips trembled. She bit them, then she started the engine and turned in an arc, heading toward the Jordanian border at high speed, the tires kicking up dust.

The pickup drove off, the taillights disappeared, and then there was only the silence of the desert. The headlights from the Israeli side came ever closer.

Jack said, “What deal did you make, Buddy?”

Savage put down the machine pistol but kept the Browning. “Get in the Land Cruiser. We haven’t got much time.”

“For what?”

Savage’s face tightened with fear. “I’m afraid you and I need to have a talk.”

139

Jack moved inside the Land Cruiser. The cab faced away from the Israeli border, toward the mountains of Edom. Buddy sat next to him in the driver’s seat and kept his eyes on the procession of headlights in the rearview mirror. “Who’s coming?” Jack asked.

“Your friend Lela and the cops. Maybe the Israel Defense Forces for all I know.”

Jack stared at the Browning pistol in Buddy’s hand. “Where did you get the gun?”

Savage’s face was blank. “I stole the scroll, Jack.”

Jack’s shock was total. He felt as if someone had cut his wrists and his blood had drained.

Buddy said, “I never meant to take it. All I wanted was a couple of fragments.”