Chase Baker and the Seventh Seal (A Chase Baker Thriller Book 9) (13 page)

CHAPTER 24

Magda prepares a feast of cheese omelets with fresh tomatoes, olives, and hummus on the side. We wash everything down with cold liter bottles of Gold Star beer. By the time lunch is over, we’re feeling no pain and Moshe is sleeping soundly inside the far end bedroom. Itzy has joined his brother and is currently praying over him.

After clearing the dishes, Magda serves us coffee and we sit around the table in silence that isn’t quite silent, but more like a prelude to the questions I know are about to be lodged by the man who saved Moshe’s leg.

“Okay,” James says, “who wants to go first? What’s really going on here?”

“It’s like I told you,” Magda says, sipping her coffee. “We’re looking for some lost antique books.”

“Antique books,” James says, staring into his coffee. “If it were that simple, you wouldn’t be getting shot at. Nor would you be traveling with a band of Uzi-carrying Hasidic Jews.”

I nod, take a long drink of my coffee. It was prepared in a Turkish coffee press, and it’s very strong.

I say, “I think what you’re looking for is the significance the books pose and why men are willing to shoot to kill for them?”

“You’ve got my attention, Chase,” James says.

“According to my employer, the books, or codices, are the most important find since the Dead Sea Scrolls and offer up a contemporary account of Jesus’ life. A first person, reliable witness account.”

“But that’s not why your employer, whoever he is, is willing to place you in danger in order to find them.” James gets up, grabs the whiskey bottle, comes back to the table, pours a generous shot into each of our coffees. “Makes the coffee taste better,” he adds. “Tough to get good coffee beans in Jerusalem. Especially in the West Bank.”

“I didn’t know any better,” Magda says, “I’d say you’re trying to loosen up our lips, old friend.”

“Right you are,” James says. “So, what is it your employer really wants and why are you two willing to risk your necks for it?”

“Why do you ask?” I say more than a hint of suspicion in my voice. Chase the untrusting? Maybe. But in cases like this, even when a seemingly good Samaritan like James is helping you out with a dire situation like Moshe’s, it’s best to trust your built-in shit detector. And thus far, this mission to find seven little metal books has proven to be just a hint more complicated than it appeared to be on paper. Okay, a hell of a lot more complicated . . . and dangerous. 

“Chase,” Magda says. “James is just concerned.”

“Actually,” James says, “now that you mention it, Mag, I’m more than concerned. I watched you grow up to become a beautiful, intelligent young woman, and I wouldn’t want you getting sucked into something that could potentially get you killed.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s about as plain as I can put it.”

I drink some of the coffee. He’s right, it tastes better with the whiskey.

Magda drinks some, then clears the frog from her throat.

“Would you believe me, James,” she says, “if I told you the fate of the entire world rests upon our locating the codices?”

He unfolds his arms, forms a hint of a grin in the corner of his mouth.

“The fate of the world,” he says. “Did I hear you correctly, Mag?”

“You did,” I interject. “Have you ever heard of the legend of the seven seals?”

“The New Testament Book of Revelations. By John of Patmos. You can’t breathe the dry air in this country, Chase, and not be reminded of it.”

Recalling the small paperback copy I intended to purchase, but ended up stealing, from the vendor in the Old City, I reach into my bush jacket pocket and pull it out, set it on the table that still contains some of Moshe’s blood stains.

I go on, “The book talks of seven seals that, when broken, will usher in the end of days. But only when the seventh seal is broken will the final battle of Armageddon begin, and guess who gets to lead the charge?”

“Jesus,” James says.

“Bingo,” I chime.

“And the metal books?” he asks.

“Our employer is convinced they are the books that correspond to the end of the times,” Magda says, passion in her voice. “I’ve seen them once before with my own eyes. I know they are real . . . That they exist.”

“Are they sealed?” James says.

Magda shakes her head. “The seals on six of them are broken. Which means the first six evils have already been unleashed upon the earth.”

“How so?”

“Islamic extremism and Christian genocide, severe weather, starvation, plague, financial collapse, too many people and not enough food, possible nuclear war . . . Need I go on?”

“There’s a seventh seal then,” James says. It’s a question.

“Yes,” Magda says. “The seventh seal is intact.”

Stealing another sip of the whiskey laced coffee, I jump in, “You see, James, apparently the seventh seal — the most important seal — is impossible to break. The metal utilized in its construction is something that’s out of this world.” I throw up my hands. “So I’m told.”

“But it exists nonetheless,” Magda says. “And if we don’t find it and transport it to someplace where it will be safe from all humanity, and from men and women who might be able to develop a technology to break the seal, then the world as we know it can, and will, finally be wiped clean by the wrath of the new Messiah.”

James sits back, runs his hand over his tight face. I get the sense he believes our story but that he’s on the fence with the end-of-the-world bit. Can’t say I blame him.

“You two ever heard of the Megiddo Valley?” he says.

“Up north, above the Jordan Valley,” Magda says. “It’s where the final showdown between good and evil is supposed to occur.”

“Just recently,” James says, “the Israeli government announced they will be drilling for oil and natural gas in the valley, thereby eliminating any need for foreign oil.”

“In other words,” I say, “they are thoroughly pissing off the Arab states that surround them, setting the stage for a pretty decent fight of Biblical proportions.”

“It all comes down to oil . . . energy . . . who controls it,” Magda interjects.

“Those Arab states not only depend on the oil trade for their fortunes, but they also want to see Israel wiped off the face of the earth.”

“And now the codices appear after two thousand years of being hidden away,” Magda says.

“As if God wanted it to happen that way.”

“Could be the stage is already being set,” James says.

“For what?” Magda asks.

“The end of the world,” James says.

CHAPTER 25

We finish our coffees, stand.

“You said you saw the codices with your own eyes once before, Magda,” James says.

“Yes,” she replies. “In the bookshop inside the Old City. The shop where we were almost murdered.”

James pulls down on the brim of his old hat so that it covers his forehead entirely. “And when did you say you last saw them?” he questions.

“Last summer when I was working on the dig just around the corner.”

“You might have mentioned that to me at the time.”

“I didn’t realize their significance, other than their archaeological importance, James.”

He holds up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay,” he says, “but things have changed. Now, whoever revealed them to you is gone, perhaps murdered. And the new caretakers are guarding them as if they were priceless.”

“I’m not so sure this is about money,” I add, “any more than I believe it’s about oil and who controls it.”

“How’s that?” James says.

“I think this is about power, plain and simple. Whoever possesses the seventh codice, or book, essentially rules the world.”

James bites down on his bottom lip. He says, “If it were to get into the hands of the wrong people, say a doomsday cult, it could bring about a really bad day for all humanity, now couldn’t it?”

“Those men who were wearing black,” Magda interjects, “their hair cut into Mohawks.”

“They were soldiers belonging to some kind of army,” I say. That’s when a vision comes to me. The framed photo on the wall above the safe in the back room of the bookstore. “The picture of Ansar al-Mahdi on that wall. Was it there when you were last in the shop?”

Magda shakes her head.

“Mahdi,” James says, “The expected one. The Muslim God who will usher in the end of the world.”

“The god who will break the seventh seal,” I say.

“Looks like whoever owned that store has been bought out by a group — an army, if you will — who wants to break the seal.”

“James,” Magda says, “we need to find the seven codices, and we need to find them now. Can you help us?”

“Be like trying to find seven specific grains of sand in the middle of the Sinai desert.”

“We have to try,” I say. “And we’d appreciate any help you have to offer. Of course, we’re already indebted to you.”

James pulls out his .45, pulls back on the slide, thumbs the safety on.

“I’m gonna make a check on Moshe’s wound,” he says, “and then we’re gonna start looking for these damned books.”

“Where do we start, James?” Magda asks.

“In the most obvious of places,” he says.

“Where would that be?” I say.

“Inside the cradle of the Holy Land. And that goddamned bookstore inside the Damascus Gate.”

CHAPTER 26

Leaving Moshe and Itzy behind in the trailer, we pile into James’ old, white Land Cruiser and head down the hill on our way back to the Old City in the Jerusalem center. While we drive, I feel compelled to pull out the New Testament and once more begin reading John of Patmos’ Gospel. I’ve skimmed the Gospel before, especially prior to a dig I might have been preparing for that required a Biblical reference or two. But this is the first time I’ve read it with a specific word shooting out at me. Or, not a word necessarily, but a number.

Lucky seven. 

“Awful lot of sevens all over the Book of Revelations,” I say from the back seat of the Land Cruiser. “Seven churches, seven spirits, seven stars, seven codices. It just seems to go on and on.”

“The other John’s gospel — as in Mathew, Mark, Luke, and
John
— is all about the sevens, too,” Magda says from the front shotgun seat. “It’s almost like they were the same guy. He mentions seven of the twelve disciples explicitly — Andrew, Peter, Phillip, Nathanial, Judas, Judas once more, and then Thomas. He also focuses on seven men and seven women, Pilate and Mary Magdalene among them.”

“Your namesake,” James says, both his hands gripping the wheel as he speeds along the desert road, the city looming before us.

“There’s also seven witnesses,” Magda goes on. “Seven ‘I ams’ as in, ‘I am the bread of life.’ And more importantly, seven signs to come.”

“Such as?” I say.

“The raising of Lazarus from the dead, the walking on water, and the curing of the feverish son thought to be dead. John’s Gospel is also the only one to detail Jesus’ crucifixion. Where it took place and how it was carried out.”

“Just like the codices,” I point out.

“Just like the codices,” Magda nods.

We head into the city, the skull-like wall beside us on our left overlooking the bus garage.

“Is that it on the left?” I say. “The place John’s Gospel speaks of? Golgotha or Skull Place?”

“Depends on who you’re talking to,” Magda says. “As you already know, most people believe the true site is that of the Holy Sepulcher. But many also believe that the hill you’re looking at looks an awful lot like a skull. Certainly does to me. It’s also close to the Damascus Gate and is located along what would have been the Damascus Road two thousand years ago, which John’s Gospel also points out.”

“There’s something else that’s interesting about Skull Hill,” James says as he pulls into a parking space close to Herod’s Gate along the old stone wall.

“What’s that?” I say.

“It’s the highest natural point in Jerusalem. From that point, you can see the entire old city, and conversely, be seen.”