Secret of the Scroll (Greg McKenzie Mysteries) (23 page)

“I quit smoking a few months ago, but I’m afraid the pressure of Jill’s kidnapping got to be too much. I started again.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“I’d love it.” Looking around at the small kitchen, I thought of the one in my boyhood home in
St. Louis
. My mother always kept a pot of hot coffee on the counter. And for a moment, until I could push her away, I saw Jill in our own kitchen, coffee pot in hand, smiling at me.

I decided to call Ted Kennerly. I told Jake I would put the call on my credit card, but he insisted that I dial direct. It would be quicker and simpler, he argued. So I fished out my little black book and direct-dialed Ted’s office number. I was a little surprised when he answered.

“I thought I’d have to chase you down,” I said.

“I’m stuck here for the moment. Where are you?”

“
Jerusalem
. I’m visiting that friend of David Wolfson’s.”

“Have you talked to Wolfson?”

“No. I called but he wasn’t there.”

“I talked to him yesterday and briefed him on everything. I figured it wouldn’t hurt, since he had already been contacted by Adamson.”

That gave me a sinking spell. “How did Adamson get onto David?”

“They found him on your answering machine.”

So they had gotten a search warrant for my house. I should have anticipated that and turned off the machine. “What did David tell him?”

“Not a lot. He didn’t know anything beyond what you had discussed when we were at his apartment that night. He told Adamson how you got the scroll, and about the thugs who were holding your wife. He also mentioned that you suspected they had murdered J. Q. Welch. He knew you and I had gone looking for a green van with some kind of white design on it.”

“So he mentioned your name to Adamson?”

“Yeah. The detective came down to my office yesterday. Needless to say, he was more than a little miffed that you hadn’t leveled with him at the start. But after I reminded him of Sergeant Christie’s visit and related some of the harassment you had been getting, he didn’t seem to have his nose so out of joint. Matter of fact, he seemed a bit sympathetic. He confirmed the guy who died with so-called Nagy was Palestinian. And the van with the swirl fit the description of the one seen outside Dr. Welch’s house. Adamson seemed pleased I had helped him solve a couple of crimes. He said he would start a search for the two characters we talked to, but I told him they were probably back in
Israel
by now.”

What he said reminded me of something. “Two Palestinians died in that burned-out panel truck, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember the guy I shot at in Cool Springs?”

“Right. He’s apparently still out there somewhere.”

“And he knows all about what’s happened.”

“I imagine he’s gone into hiding. He shouldn’t cause any more problems.”

“I hope you’re right, Ted,” I said. But I wasn’t all that confident.

“There’s something else you should know,” he said. “Wolfson was adamant that you shouldn’t give up that animal skin. He wouldn’t tell me on the phone what he had found, but he said it could have disastrous consequences. If I heard from you, I was to insist you contact him immediately.”

I still couldn’t figure what disastrous consequences might happen if I turned it over to the
Temple
Alliance
. “I’ll try him again later,” I said.

I was relieved that things had been cleared up with Metro, but I realized I had taken one step forward and two steps back. “Right now I feel like I’ve jumped out of the frying pan right into the fire,” I said.

“Something about Jill?” I could hear the concern in Ted’s voice.

“Yeah. These guys knew I was here from the moment I stepped off the plane. This Moriah I was supposed to contact called me at the hotel. He insisted Jill was okay and said he would call back in the morning. But I trust those guys about as much as I did the guy on
Sheridan Drive
. I was afraid they might make a
midnight
visit to my hotel room, so I checked out.”

“What do you plan to do about that document?”

“I’m not certain what I should do. I’d sure like to know what’s bugging David. And I’m not at all confident that Jill and I would survive any exchange. But right now that’s my only alternative.”

“You
are
between a rock and a hard place, Boss. At least things have calmed down here. Our terrorists turned out to be a bunch of copycat carjackers. But I’m afraid the colonel wouldn’t be too thrilled if I traipsed off to the
Middle East
.”

“It might be helpful if I knew the Air Force attaché over here,” I said. I knew a few ex-
OSI
guys who had switched to the Defense Intelligence Agency and taken overseas embassy postings.

“If you’ll hold on a sec,” Ted said, “I’ll get on the computer and check it out.”

I held for several minutes and reminded myself to make a generous contribution to Jake Cohen’s phone bill this month. The clock showed we were coming up on
midnight
, and I still hadn’t found a place to stay. Ted’s voice finally came back on.

“Do you know a Colonel Warren Jarvis?”

I explored my tender jaw. I was lucky Zalman didn’t break it.

“The only Jarvis I remember was Fancher Frederick, better known as Fancy Fred. We worked together out in
California
. He was a funny character, but solid as a rock in his fundamentals. That’s been years ago and he wasn’t far from retirement then. Seems like he had a son at the Air Force Academy.”

“Well, Colonel Warren is the man at the embassy in Tel Aviv. I can give you his home phone number.”

I copied the number, then thanked Ted for his help. After hanging up, I turned to Jake. “I’ve got the name and number of an embassy guy who may or may not be of any help. But I owe you for the phone calls. Here.” I tried to hand him two twenties, but he’d have none of it.

“Save your cash. You’ll probably need it before this is over. Your tour group was quite generous with the tips. I haven’t even started to spend it yet. Incidentally, it’s getting pretty late to go looking for another hotel. I’ve got a spare bedroom. Why don’t you just put up here for the night?”

It sounded good, but there was one problem.

“Do you know if the security service keeps an eye on your place because of your tour work with foreigners?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors. But if they do, it’s likely just an occasional thing. They don’t have the manpower to put a team on all of us permanently.”

“You’re probably right,” I said. “Unless you do something to arouse suspicion, they wouldn’t make a big effort.”

So I decided to stay and went out to get my bag. On the way back in, I noticed a small plot of flowers that I had missed earlier. It lay only a few feet from Jake’s front door. I could see red geraniums and yellow marigolds among the greenery. It struck me as a good burial site for an ancient scroll.

Back inside, I explained my plan and asked Jake if he had a small spade I could use for digging.

“Wouldn’t it be better to hide the thing somewhere inside?” he asked.

I shook my head. “If the TA people learn that I’ve been here, they could come in and take the place apart looking for it. I’m sure it would be safer outside.”

Borrowing a pair of binoculars, I went back out to Jake’s car as if I had left something behind. I climbed in and used the glasses to check all around the area. I could detect no signs of surveillance. Returning to the apartment, I dug a small hole in the midst of the geraniums and buried the canister, covering it over with greenery so it wouldn’t resemble a fresh grave.

After a soothing shower I retired to the spare bedroom. It was small, but not much smaller than Jill and I had experienced in some on-base housing we had “enjoyed” early in my career. There was a daybed and a chest, a small table with a metal pencil holder plus a few travel books, and a bentwood rocking chair. The floor was tile, with a rug in the center.

I checked the windows, which were securely locked, then rigged an alarm at the door. I placed two books like a T, with the top one against the outer edge of the door. After testing the clink quotient of the pencil holder, I set it on the top book. If anyone opened the door, the metal holder would hit the tiles and make a racket. I put on my pajamas and climbed into bed.

By now Moriah would have learned of my check-out at the Hotel Patriarch. I only hoped he hadn’t found somebody who could identify the Dodge that had picked me up out in front. If he had . . . well, I just wished I had my Beretta under the pillow. But as my granny used to recite when I was little:

“If wishes were horses,

beggars would ride;

if turnips were watches,

I’d wear one at my side.”

Or, maybe, “If bunnies were Berettas, I’d hop–”

I was too tired to think. Instead, I got down on my knees beside the bed and prayed as I had never prayed before. I asked God to keep Jill safe until I could find her and set her free. I don’t know how far I got in my prayer, but I wound up falling across the bed, dead asleep from exhaustion.

Chapter
31

When I awoke in the darkness, I could hear the sound of the refrigerator. A clock ticked softly somewhere beyond my door. I checked my watch.
Five forty-seven
. Since Moriah could not reach me–at least I didn’t think he could–he would be expecting me to call. I couldn’t delay it too long, but I needed to have a plan before I called. And I needed to know what resources I had before I could generate a plan.

Officers on overseas postings do not appreciate being awakened in the middle of the night by mysterious callers. But I didn’t have the luxury of waiting. I hoped Colonel Jarvis would be one of those early risers who chose to walk or run before breakfast. That was never my style, though I always tried to work out during the day to keep in some sort of shape. Jill claimed I was in pretty lousy shape for the shape I was in, but she tends to exaggerate.

After defusing my book alarm, I opened the door and looked into the hallway. A night-light had been left on in the kitchen, and I could see the closed door to Jake’s bedroom and the open door to the bath. I padded quietly into the living room and laid the slip of paper with the colonel’s number on the counter. I lifted the phone and dialed.

It took three rings before a deep male voice answered. It was not a happy voice. “Colonel Jarvis.”

“Sorry to bother you at this hour, Colonel,” I said, keeping my voice low, “but I am in great need of some help. And right away.”

“Who is this?” The tone implied that whoever it was had better have a Class A excuse for this indiscretion.

“My name is Gregory McKenzie, sir, and I’m a retired Air Force
OSI
agent. I need to talk with you in person as soon as possible. It involves a complex situation involving a sensitive document that came into my possession.” I was aware that it would sound like a classified document, which was misleading, but I didn’t want to explain any further on the phone. The Israelis would be listening. And he knew I would know that.

“Where are you, McKenzie?”

“In
Jerusalem
. I don’t have transportation, but I have a friend here who could probably bring me to wherever would be convenient.”

“Can you give me a number where I can call back?”

That was standard procedure. He would want to check me out before agreeing to a meeting. I looked down at the phone, gave him the number and hung up.

I figured while I waited I might as well make some coffee. I switched on the kitchen light, poured water in the coffee maker, located a canister with some ground beans and shoveled a conservative measure into the filter. Back at the bar I sat down and listened to the brew gurgle. It made such a soothing sound that I decided I could forego a morning cigarette for the moment.

A few minutes later, a sleepy-eyed Jake Cohen wandered in. “I see you found the coffee,” he said.

“I decided it would be best to make contact with the Air Attaché early, so I’ve already called him. He’s checking me out, I’m sure, and promised to call back. I told him I had a friend who might be able to take me to a meeting place. Don’t worry if you can’t make it. I’ll take a taxi.”

“To Tel Aviv? Not on your life.” He strolled into the kitchen, pulled out a couple of mugs, and poured the coffee.

“I’ve been thinking about where they might be holding my wife,” I said, staring at my cup. “Probably somewhere outside the major population centers. Maybe somebody’s country home.”

“How about a kibbutz?”

“I hadn’t thought of that. They’re communal farms, aren’t they?”

“Mostly. But some have developed around manufacturing. In recent years, those around cities and in resort areas have been catering to tourists. There’s a group of about thirty that have their own hotel chain, with a booking office in Tel Aviv.”