Victory of Coins (The Judas Chronicles, #7) (16 page)

“Really?” She surprised me by this revelation. “Surely Dr. Anderson witnessed what had happened to Dr. Cirillo, and knew any sort of deceit would be handled harshly by Kaslow once he found out about it.”

“Yes, that’s true,” she said. “I can’t tell you why the professor decided to betray Kaslow’s trust.... Maybe he knew Kaslow would kill him regardless of what he revealed. If he witnessed the horrible torture and death of the elderly Adlelberto Cirillo, then he certainly knew that in the end there would be no mercy for him either—regardless of how much he cooperated.”

“I just hope that our mutual impression to come here is well founded,” said Roderick, glancing at Rachel. “Otherwise, I fear we have reached a dead end in our search for the Damascus Coin.”

She and I nodded thoughtfully, and it was the last thing mentioned before we arrived at Qumran. After paying a fee for each of us to enter the national park, Roderick set out to find a reasonably safe place to leave our vehicle. The dashboard’s clock read 1:12 p.m., and to my dismay there were a number of tourists mulling about nearby. And once we stepped out of the Volvo, I could tell there were at least a few hundred people scattered throughout the area, with many in the company of tour guides.

“From what I understand, the guides you see here are privately funded,” Roderick advised, as we prepared to begin our survey of the area—a search that was appearing more and more pointless by the minute. “Try not to let any of this distract you from our task. What we’re looking for should be quite small—if my instincts are right—and the item isn’t so much a deliberate clue from Kaslow as it is something he inadvertently lost while here. It might be an item unimportant to him, but could prove helpful to us.”

“A true needle in a haystack,” I lamented. “And, you and Rachel can’t come up with anything more specific to look for?”

They both shook their heads.

“Great. Just frigging fabulous!”

“You’ll only make things worse with an outlook like that, Judas,” Rachel reproached me. “What is here for us to find won’t be available much longer—that’s what my guides are telling me. A single rainstorm will wash the item free from where it’s lodged.... Could be stuck between rocks or in a tree or bush.  Luckily, there aren’t many plants in this arid region.”

“Is it smaller than one of my coins?”

The only thing I had personally eliminated at this point was the Damascus Coin being anywhere in this area. I continued to feel nothing in the way of tingling along my left side.

“It should be slightly smaller, but when you mentioned your coins, I felt it could be something round like a coin,” she said. “Perhaps it is a piece of jewelry, but don’t hold me to that... be open to anything.”

Roderick was already moving down a pathway toward the caves, trying to appear nonchalant. Rachel soon followed close behind. He waited for her and placed his arm around her shoulders and she wrapped hers around his waist. I knew it was a ploy, but they really did play a romantic couple quite well.

Meanwhile, I did keep my eyes open for anything—including another sudden visit from Kaslow. We could no longer assume he wouldn’t be back. Of worse concern was the fact I felt completely lost, clinging to a desperate hope that whatever Roderick and Rachel had picked up on would be worth the time and effort to search for it.

They were moving closer to the caves and about to join a line waiting to get a closer look at the one most famous for the 1947 discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls. I’m not sure why I decided to pull up and avoid also joining this group, but I did. Instead, I moved out into the parched landscape away from the main path. And, that’s when I saw something briefly glisten in the sun’s light.

It could’ve been anything, and likely a piece of glass or a small metal shard. A casual glance to either side told me that no one else noticed it, and until then Rachel and Roderick appeared unaware of this latest development.

I approached the object, noticing recent disturbance to the soil not far from where it sat. After bending down to pick it up, I was astounded to discover the glint was gold, and that the object was in fact a ring. And, not just any ring, but one that belonged to a member of the Vatican’s cherished inner circle: The College of Cardinals.

“Oh my God—you found it!” Rachel enthused, startling me from behind. She and Roderick must have either sensed or finally noticed my preoccupation off the beaten path.

“It certainly fits the scant criteria you were given,” I said, annoyed that hers and Roderick’s guides couldn’t better define something blatantly obvious as a gold ring—especially one likely belonging to Dr. Cirillo. But at least Roderick was busy checking out the disturbed soil nearby.

“Kaslow was here... digging and then he stopped,” he said, bending down to take a handful of sand and let it drift through his fingers. “Something distracted him... I sense his disappointment.”

“And, so he left? What in the hell does that have to do with Cirrilo’s ring? I doubt he dropped it by accident,” I said, in disgust. “It seems more logical for him to cast it aside, either as a comment about his coin search or as a ploy for us.”

I have to admit to some satisfaction at Rachel’s surprised expression, as if my theory of how the damned ring ended up at Qumran made perfect sense and the summation of her previous suppositions had turned to shit.

“That’s not all of it, Judas,” she said, seeking to regain her edge. “He did plant it.”

“Which means he knew we would be here,” said Roderick, finishing her latest line of reasoning. “And, if he arranged that much, then he has been likely more aware of our plans than we’ve assumed. Perhaps he even knew what time of day we would be here, and long before today’s earlier unfortunate event....”

A sudden shadow filled the air above, and for a moment I expected to see a horde of Kaslow’s demons—Bochicha’s Emissaries—hovering above us like birds of prey ready to swoop down upon us in our unguarded state. But it was just a dark cloud, though unusual for a lone storm cloud to float through the desert’s shallow sky.

I assumed it was only an odd coincidence... until Roderick’s phone rang.

“What in the hell?” he muttered, pulling it out from his pocket to read the display and glancing toward an unseen satellite in the sky beyond the cloud. “It’s Michael.”

“Lavoie?” Rachel sought to confirm

Roderick nodded and took the call, stepping away from us while I scanned the area again, on the alert for anything suspicious among the human visitors to Qumran. No one paid us any attention, or so it seemed.

Roderick cursing under his breath drew our attention as he rejoined us, and he motioned for us to hurry back to the car.

“What in the hell’s up?”

“Well, Judas... it does appear your observation about this scene being a set-up is spot on,” he said, removing his sunglasses to massage his eyes—a sure sign of surprise by my druid friend. “Another historian—one previously unbeknownst to us—was found shot to death by a crossbow a few hours ago in Athens, Greece. Michael says the carbon arrows are an initial close match to those used to injure Cedric and kill Dr. Anderson.”

“Oh, shit,” I said. “How quickly can we get there?”

“Michael advised for us to stay away,” he replied.

“And?” I persisted.

“You already know we can’t do that,” he said, and turned to Rachel. “Stay here if you prefer, especially if you would rather not incur the wrath of your American employer.”

“You two aren’t going anywhere without me,” she said, glaring mostly at me, as if the suggestion to stay behind had come from me instead of Roderick. “If you’re heading to Athens, then I’m coming along.”

“Then so be it,” he said. “For better or for worse, we’re headed for Greece.... God help us if it’s another trap.”

––––––––

K
aslow’s latest victim—at least the latest victim that we knew of—was an American. Dr. Kyle Drummond had taught several years ago at Athens University in an exchange situation with the University of Michigan. He and his wife, Marie, had returned to Athens two days ago to celebrate their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.

Both were killed in the same manner.

Details that were sketchy at first became clearer during our flight to Athens. Using the same plane that Rachel had previously arranged from Cairo, we were scheduled to arrive at Eleftherios Venizelos International Airport at Spata at 5:05 p.m. that evening. By the time we left Israel’s airspace, the crime scene photographs from the professor’s rented villa had made it to Rachel’s laptop, along with copies of the initial forensic and witness reports. Proprietary information that would normally be off limits without prior proof of ‘need to know’ privileges, Rachel’s active CIA contacts carried more international pull than Roderick had with his buddies back in Washington.

Michael Lavoi, the man who was once my boss at the CIA, remained Roderick’s and Rachel’s chief liaison in Washington, but I now had something new to tease Roderick about. Rachel apparently could attain access to International information much quicker than Roderick could. They enjoyed a playful sparring match of words while I studied the images and documents, following Roderick’s examination of the same.

“Do you see it?” he asked me, when I was halfway done and had lingered for a few minutes on the photographs of the couple, both bound by twine to kitchen chairs and their hearts pierced by what were listed as ‘carbon arrows fired at close range’.

“Other than the sloppiness involved here? No... I’m afraid not,” I confessed. “Maybe I’m having a harder time getting past this monster’s need to kill nearly every human he encounters. He was always a bad man, but in the past Kaslow killed to make a point. Now he behaves as if he’s getting extra credit for every person he takes out.”

“Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you suppose, and is still striving to make a point, first and foremost.... Would you like for me to point out a curious thing to you?”

Roderick leaned toward me against his seatbelt’s restraint, since technically we hadn’t landed yet, and the plane was making the final approach to the runway.

“Why not, since apparently I’m as a blind as a frigging bat,” I retorted. “Be my guest.”

He shook his head at my testiness. “Don’t take it personally, Judas. Every one of us loses their edge—immortal or not—when we move on to other interests. I still dabble in this shit, so I should be better at it.... Just remember there are those who can run circles around me, too.”

He nodded toward Rachel, who responded with a smile that was slightly smug and all kinds of naughty. They were chumming up more than I cared to consider.... But for the moment I wasn’t sure if this was based on my previous resentment towards her, or if it was a byproduct of my own loneliness. Seeing any kind of happiness, including the sparks of mild flirtation as it was in this case, reminded me of what I had lost with Beatrice.

I looked away in hopes the sorrow and its attendant surge of weakness in my limbs would leave me.

“Let me see the MacBook for a moment,” he said, pulling back from my private revelry of sorrow.

“Sure.”

“I’m going to highlight the image I’m talking about with a light blue halo that is barely detectible,” he advised, sitting down again. “By the time we land you should see it, and realize the figure barely visible in a corner of the living room mirror is in reality plain as day, though easy to miss at first glance.”

He had my curiosity piqued, and I took the laptop back from him. Three of the photographs were open on the main screen, and using a program to enhance the image he spoke of, the mirror in question was highlighted in blue for each frame. I soon disagreed with Roderick’s assertion that the shadowed face in attendance was ‘plain as day’. Even so, if it had been clearly visible without the color enhancement, the creature to which the face belonged might’ve provided one hell of a scare to the detectives and forensic team processing the crime scene.

“I see the face now... the long teeth and hollow eyes make it look like one of the demons we saw in Bolivia a few years ago—Bochicha’s Emissaries,” I said. “However, I don’t recall them being translucent like this one is.”

“Silly man, do you know nothing about demons and other mischievous spirits in this world?” Rachel taunted. The intensity of her gaze made it hard to tell if this was a playful jab or not.

“Apparently not,” I told her, accepting her verbal gauntlet. “Except for one most regrettable mistake in my lifetime, they’ve never been bedfellows of mine.”

“Oh, and by that you’re implying what?”

“Be nice, children,” said Roderick, lightheartedly. “Keep the shots above the waist.”

“Okay... the fact this demon was there at all is an important clue,” said Rachel, after smiling coyly at Roderick and shaking her head at me. “The camera inadvertently caught the demon’s presence, and I am reasonably certain that those in attendance were largely unaware of it being there. It wasn’t present physically—just its spiritual essence—and if anything, they might have felt the entity’s hostility.”

“If Kaslow had disposed of the professor and his wife after obtaining what he came for, then why would he bother having one of his cronies stick around? Surely not to simply gloat, right? ” It didn’t make sense to me. Unless....

“Unless, Kaslow didn’t find what he was looking for from Dr. Drummond,” said Roderick, finishing my thought. “We will be visiting the crime scene shortly after we arrive, and maybe something will jump out at us. For now, all we have to go on is what a general background check into Dr. Drummond’s life as an academic tells us.”

“And it isn’t much,” Rachel added. “He hasn’t actively researched the Damascus Coin in more than three decades. He was never considered an expert on it, which adds to the mystery of why he was targeted—especially to die.”

“Except for one possible clue,” said Roderick, and I admit that it was becoming a strange thing to be tag-teamed like this by the two of them. “Dr. Drummond spent almost a full year studying this particular coin and its rather gruesome history while working on his Master’s thesis. Actually, the paper dealt with a sorcerer from the sixth century A.D. who had taken on the name of Trophonius—the same moniker that belonged to a sorcerer from the mythical period of Grecian history. To save time, let me summarize this particular magician’s resume by saying he was a precursor to Krontos Lazarevic, and may have been the first of several sorcerers to possess the coin that was passed through Syrian, Egyptian, Ethiopian, and Grecian hands. As we’ve discussed before, the violence that has followed this coin through medieval times has been every bit as bloody during its most popular era as any of the other coins have been. Everyone that relied on its power to enhance their magic perished horribly—at least that’s the assertion of Dr. Drummond’s dissertation.”