The Second Messiah (61 page)

“I see nothing.” Hassan put down the binoculars, his usually composed face tight with concern.

Yasmin said, “I don’t like this, Hassan.”

“Neither do I. But then nothing ever goes as planned, does it?” He kissed her on the forehead. “You will remain here, sister.”

“No, I want to go with you.”

Hassan’s hand came up and gently cupped her face. “No, you’ll stay. I don’t want you exposed to any more danger.” He slipped out a thin flashlight and flicked it on and off before he returned it to his pocket. “No matter what happens, stay put in the second pickup unless I give the signal that it’s safe to move, or I contact you on your cell phone. Otherwise, stay back at least a mile and keep the headlights off.”

“What about Cane? He’s not a bad man, Hassan, he’s not—”

Her brother put up his hand to silence her. “This is not the time for talk.”

Hassan clicked his fingers and the Serb jumped out of the driver’s
seat
. One of the bodyguards tossed him a Heckler & Koch machine pistol. The Serb climbed into the back of the pickup, cocked the weapon, and made sure the safety was on.

“Remember,” Hassan told him. “You don’t move unless I tell you to.”

“Of course, Mr. Malik.” The Serb grinned, as if relishing trouble, then lay down flat in the pickup, out of sight.

Yasmin asked, “Are you certain this is wise, Hassan? Savage said you were to go alone and unarmed.”

“Don’t question me. I know what I’m doing. I know the area where Savage wants to meet. It’s right on the border and there’s more rock cover, which is to his advantage, but remember we have Cane.” Hassan gestured to one of the other bodyguards from the second pickup. “Bring him here.”

The man did as he was told and dragged Cane from the truck cab over to Hassan, who stared him in the face. “You’ll do the driving, Cane. I’ll tell you which direction to take to meet Savage.”

Jack met his stare. “No doubt you’ll kill him, too?”

Hassan showed not a flicker of emotion. “That all depends.”

“On what?”

“If he safely hands over my property, everyone can go on their way. But if Savage double-crosses me, or either of you tries anything, I swear, Cane, you’ll both die.”

SAVAGE SAW THE
pinpricks of headlights approach through the binoculars. They were at least a mile away, he guessed, the dawn light a murky gray.

He stood on a rugged outcrop of rock, the Land Cruiser parked nearby. The rocks would offer him solid cover if there was any shooting.

The headlights drew closer. He scanned the desert for any other signs of life but saw nothing, and heard only the faint throbbing of the approaching engine. It was too dark to distinguish the solid form of the vehicle just yet.

He stepped down off the rocks and moved back to the Land Cruiser, tossed the binoculars on the seat, and slid out the briefcase. He clicked it open again and removed the Browning pistol. He flicked off the safety and cocked the slide, chambering the first round. One thing he’d never forgotten from his stint in Vietnam was how to use a gun. He’d been a good shot, not a virtue he boasted about. He flicked on the safety again, lay the pistol down, and picked up the binoculars once more.

The headlights came closer.

Even in the poor light he was pretty certain it was a single vehicle.

He listened carefully and heard the low growl of an engine. He saw no trace of any other vehicles or movement in the murky landscape.

It was still cold out in the desert and he shivered, as much from the temperature as from a growing fear. He knew now what he was going to do, everything planned out in his head, or as much of it as he could.

Using one hand, he held on to the briefcase by placing four of his
fingers
behind the bottom part of the case, his thumb against the front part. Using his free hand, he slipped the pistol between his four fingers and the briefcase, keeping the weapon pressed hard against the leather so that it was out of sight.

The headlights came closer and turned in a slight arc.

Savage flipped open his cell phone with his free hand and thumbed the redial. It rang. The man’s voice sounded when it picked up. “We’re here, Savage. I can see you.”

Savage said curtly, “Well I can’t see you. Turn on the interior light like I told you.”

The cab light came on. Inside, Savage saw Jack in the driver’s seat. An Arab was seated beside him. Arrogant-looking, wearing a pale linen suit and open-necked shirt.

Savage put up his left hand, indicating for the pickup to stop.

Jack braked and it came to a halt with a squeal.

Savage spoke into the phone to the Arab. “Kill the lights and switch off the engine.”

The lights and the engine died.

“Tell Jack to get out of the car. You do the same.”

Jack stepped out. Hassan followed.

Savage, close enough now to be heard, put down his cell phone and said to the Arab, “We meet at last.”

“You have the scroll?” Hassan demanded.

Savage held up the briefcase, still concealing the Browning pistol. “Right here. So how about we get this dirty little business over and done with and we can all be on our way?”

HASSAN WAS SILENT
a few moments, then said, “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, Mr. Savage.”

“I’m not here to listen to your woes. Let’s get this done with.”

Hassan said, “I’ve kept my part of the bargain, now keep to yours.”

Savage held out the briefcase, his thumb on top, his fingers below, holding the Browning in place. “Here, take it. The scroll’s inside.”

“Toss it on the ground, away from you.”

“There’s a two-thousand-year-old scroll in here. If it was me, I wouldn’t want to risk damaging it. But that’s your choice.”

“Toss it on the ground,” Hassan repeated.

Savage seemed to hesitate, and then some instinct in Hassan sensed danger and he stepped backward toward the pickup and called out, “Bruno!”

Jack shouted, “Look out, Buddy!”

At that precise moment, the Serb rose from the back of the pickup. He raised the Heckler & Koch just as Savage dropped the briefcase and brought up the Browning. He fired twice, and twice again, hitting the Serb in the chest, sending him flying backward, his body toppling from the rear of the truck into the sand. He lay sprawled and motionless, then gave a groan.

As the gunfire echoed across the desert a shocked Hassan raced to grab the machine pistol. Savage fired again, hitting him in the shoulder, spinning him round, knocking him off his feet. But Hassan struggled to his knees and crawled toward the machine pistol with a fierce determination.

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.”

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.”