The Temple Mount Code (17 page)

22

Scholar’s Rock Temple

Himalaya Mountains

People’s Republic of China

July 31, 2011

‘You’re leaving?’

Lourds paused in his packing. Gloria Chen stood in the doorway of his personal quarters.

‘Yes.’ He tossed a shirt into the suitcase and tried to sort out his cleanest socks.

Without a word, she shouldered him aside, dumped all the contents from the suitcase, and started folding his clothes.

Feeling irritated and invaded, Lourds stepped back. ‘Those are dirty.’

‘Doesn’t matter. They’ll pack tighter and travel better if they’re folded.’ Gloria picked up a pair of jeans and started folding those as well. ‘Want to tell me what’s going on?’

‘Honestly, I don’t know.’ Lourds cracked open a beer from the ice chest on the floor and offered her one. She accepted, and he gave her his, then reached for another, hooking the chilled bottle out with two fingers.

Finished with the suitcase, she zipped it closed and sat on the bed.

‘I got a message from an old friend,’ he said.

‘Delivered by the guy the Sherpas brought in.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t your friend call?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You could call him.’

‘I tried.’ Lourds sipped his beer.

‘You’re just going to walk away from everything we’ve got going on here?’

‘I don’t have a choice.’

‘Yes, you do.’ Anger tightened Gloria’s face and darkened her eyes. ‘Thomas, there’s a lot of work to be done here. A lot of cataloguing, a lot of PR. If we play this right, we can interest enough universities or television-production-company deep pockets to fund our studies for years. Something like this
makes
careers.’

‘I know.’

‘“I know”?’ Gloria looked exasperated. ‘If you know, why aren’t you staying?’

‘Because I have to go.’

She studied him and shook her head. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you. I’ve never seen anyone who could give himself to his work so completely.’ She paused. ‘It makes me curious about who could send a message and have you drop everything you’re doing on a huge find like this. I mean, I know this isn’t as big as Atlantis, but this is
something,
Thomas. You don’t just throw something like this away.’

‘I’m not throwing it away. I’m leaving it in very good hands. Yours and David’s.’

‘You know this isn’t going to be the same if you leave. A lot of those people, especially the media people, are here to photograph Professor Thomas Lourds in his element, finding another mystery that history had kept locked up for so long.’

Lourds smiled. ‘And now this place has been found.’

‘So now you’re through with it? Just going to ride off into the sunset?’

‘It’s not like that.’

‘Who can just call you away like this?’

‘A friend. An old friend.’

‘A woman?’

‘No. A man named Lev Strauss. He’s an archaeologist in Jerusalem. We were friends, classmates, and competitors. Over thirteen years ago, we were on a plane that went down over the Dead Sea.’ As he talked, Lourds remembered the screaming engines and panicked voices all around him. ‘Everyone was certain we were going to die. A lot of people did.’ The smell of burning flesh flooded his nose, and his heart was suddenly thudding in his chest as he relived those frantic moments. ‘I hit my head when we crashed. Lev got me out of that plane, saved other people, and when the fuel tanks blew up, a piece of shrapnel cut off the bottom half of his left leg.’ He took a breath and focused on Gloria. ‘I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him.’ He shrugged. ‘So when he calls for me, I’m going to go.’

Gloria held his gaze with hers. ‘Even so, I can’t believe you’re walking away from this.’

‘I know you can’t, and I wish I could make you understand.’ Lourds stood, slung his backpack on, slid his hat into place, and picked up the suitcase. Big Mike was already waiting.

He took a deep breath. ‘You’ve got what you wanted, Gloria. You’ve got a great find, a book deal, a chance to continue your studies on something meaningful. You don’t want anything else. Not really.’

‘You want to know the saddest part?’ She looked up at him with shiny eyes.

‘What?’

‘You’re right. This is what I want. I’m not going to let go of this site till they pry my fingers off it. Nothing else matters. Just this chance to become something, to see something no one else has seen.’

‘I know. Look, I’m taking copies of the language with me. If I get anywhere with it, I’ll let you know. Please let me know how your work goes.’

‘Sure.’ Gloria crossed her arms. ‘But there is a difference between us, you know.’

Lourds didn’t say anything.

‘You’re weak enough to let a friend pull you away from this. I didn’t think that would matter to you.’

Guilt flushed through Lourds, but he didn’t say anything. He knew in his heart that it wasn’t just the friendship for Lev that was drawing him to Jerusalem. It was the hint of the mystery, all the things that Lev hadn’t mentioned, that was pulling Lourds from the temple.

Maybe he wasn’t as good a friend as he should have been, or even the friend that Lev had expected him to be. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, Lourds walked out the door.

23

Namche Bazaar

Solukhumbu District

Sagarmatha Zone, Nepal

August 1, 2011

Because of the weather, the distance, and the ease of getting out of the high country, Big Mike took Lourds down the mountains into Nepal. As soon as they were low enough, they arranged for a jeep and drove into Namche Bazaar.

Lourds had been to the small town before. Residences ran in rows along the mountainsides, and the beauty of the Himalayan highlands was all around them. The permanent population was less than two thousand people, but there were a lot of transients. Hiking and climbing groups met their guides there, merchants who had traveled across the mountains to trade spread out their wares and made deals, and the locals counted their good fortune that so many people bought things while passing through.

The town also had the Shyangboche Airstrip, which offered charter planes to Lukla on most mornings when the weather was favorable. The five-minute flight cost hundreds of dollars, but it saved two days of hiking across the rough terrain.

Lourds sat in the passenger seat as Big Mike fearlessly drove down the mountain roads. A plume of dust followed them. Even though the snow had given way to brown earth again, the cold remained, and the jeep’s heater wheezed more than it blew.

He worked in a spiral-bound notebook to decipher the new Jiahu language they’d discovered. As it turned out, he was more distracted by the terrain and the company than he’d thought he would be.

‘You’ve been awfully quiet, Professor Thomas.’

‘I think maybe hanging out with the monks has rubbed off on me. That whole solitude thing.’

Big Mike shot him a glance and shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. You’ve never been quiet. You’ve always had something to say.’

‘Maybe I didn’t relish the idea of trying to talk over the whining transmission or the tires grinding on this cow trail.’

Big Mike grinned at him and ran off the side of the road for a moment. He corrected their direction with a flick of his wrist. ‘You know what I think?’

‘What?’

‘I think you need to get drunk.’

‘And then climb on a puddle jumper tomorrow morning in those uncertain winds?’ Lourds shook his head. ‘That sounds like a recipe for disaster.’

That night, however, they ended up in a small, clapboard bar serving thin, overpriced beer. Big Mike regaled Lourds with stories of his recent life, then as they got deeper into the beer, they talked about the time when Lourds and Lev had lived among the Uighur.

Rough men hung out in the bar with them. Mountain guides boasted of their bravery and cleverness. Pilots talked about the treacherous winds that blew through the mountains. Experienced climbers told horror stories of past expeditions to newbies in exchange for drinks and to see their audience’s eyes grow into saucers.

The scene felt good to Lourds. He sat there telling stories with Big Mike, listening to the languages, accents, and dialects swirling around him, and felt perfectly at home. This was what civilization ultimately boiled down to: people gathered and telling stories, genuine experiences as well as lies, and they used language to convey it all.

The logs in the fireplace crackled and spat and added a warm yellow glow to the rustic wood finish of the interior. A worn CD system pumped loud, raucous rock and roll throughout the room. Outside, the wind whistled through the mountains.

In the corner, however, a young woman was getting hassled by a couple of men who’d had too much to drink. She was dark and lovely, and probably in her midtwenties. Her winter clothes didn’t completely hide her trim figure. Her hair, dark as a raven’s wing, hung down into her face and brushed her shoulders. Her tanned skin was striking, smooth and unblemished.

One of the men spoke to her, then reached for her breast. The woman adroitly avoided his grasp by leaning back, but he only laughed at her and grew bolder.

By then Lourds was on his feet and crossing the floor. It wasn’t until he was standing behind the other man that he realized how large he was. The guy must have been Scandinavian from the size of him.

‘Excuse me.’ Lourds stood his ground but knew he was swaying a little. The changes in altitude and the strong native beer had bollixed his motor control a bit.

The man swiveled his head and glared at Lourds. ‘Go away.’ He spoke German.

Lourds switched to that language without even thinking about it. ‘I believe the lady has had enough of your company.’ He spoke loudly, hoping that someone – in fact, several
someones
– in the bar would decide to become participants instead of bystanders.

No one moved except Big Mike, who seemed to be even more inebriated than Lourds.

Lourds scowled. Some Dynamic Duo. Still, he couldn’t just walk away and leave the young woman in this situation.

‘I said
go away.
’ The man reached out to push Lourds.

Lourds stumbled back as the big hand shoved him in the chest, then he grabbed the man’s hand, intending to grip one of the fingers and use it to control the man. Before he could do that, the big man doubled up his other fist and smashed Lourds in the face.

Stumbling back again, Lourds tried to hang on to his senses, but they scattered like a covey of quail before a hunting dog.

Watching Thomas Lourds keel over on the floor, Miriam Abata couldn’t believe her bad luck. She’d managed to be at the Scholar’s Rock Temple for two days and remain invisible. She’d also followed Lourds and his companion down out of the mountains without being seen and had managed to arrive at Namche Bazaar slightly ahead of them once she was convinced that was where they were going. She’d even booked another plane leaving for the same destination at the same time as the professor’s.

Katsas
Shavit, her superior, had provided satellite support to watch Lourds’s progress, so Miriam hadn’t been too worried about losing the American professor.

Now he was lying sprawled on the beer-stained floor of a backwater bar after trying to defend her honor. If this hadn’t been her first solo mission, she might have laughed.

But the bad news kept on coming. Instead of being chased out or even worrying the local police might come along to arrest them, the big man turned his attentions back to her. His foul breath pooled in her face, and she stopped breathing in self-defense.

‘Hey, Franz, you laid that idiot out with one punch.’ The other man slapped the first on the shoulder and grinned hugely.

Franz flexed his right arm. ‘See? I am a strong man. You would enjoy your time with me.’

Fear hummed through Miriam’s nervous system, but she remembered the old martial arts instructor who had trained her. He’d always pointed out that, when used correctly, fear was fuel for an experienced fighter. Miriam wasn’t terribly experienced in life-or-death situations, but she’d spent thousands of hours on those mats.

‘I want you to go away.’

Franz laughed at her. ‘No, you want Franz. You should know this by now. I have bought you drinks.’

‘No. I bought my own drinks.’ Miriam reached out for the beer bottle in front of her and casually twirled it.

Behind Franz, Lourds’s Uighur companion Big Mike struggled to pull the professor to his feet. Unfortunately, Lourds was out cold, and Big Mike just wasn’t sober enough for the task. Miriam had hoped that, between them, the professor and the Uighur would be able to limp back to their rented quarters.

‘Now you are calling me a liar?’ Franz glared at her.

‘Maybe your memory isn’t as good as you think it is.’ Miriam watched as Big Mike had Lourds almost to his feet, then dropped the professor again.

‘Oops.’ Big Mike rocked unsteadily for a moment, then reached down once more for Lourds.

‘Maybe I show you how I kick this guy’s ass some more.’ Franz stood up from the table and headed toward Lourds.

Miriam looked around the room. Really? No one was going to get involved? She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should let Franz beat on Lourds. The problem was that Franz was drunk enough to do some real damage before he realized what he was doing. The man was probably mean when he was sober, too.

Franz swatted Big Mike backwards and the Uighur man crashed into a table with three men. All of them went down in a heap. None of them got up to fight Franz, though. They just saved their beers and looked around for another table.

Grunting a little, an anticipatory smile on his face that made him look demonic, Franz reached for Lourds.

Miriam gripped the bottle in her hand and stepped around the table. There was still enough beer in the bottle to give it a little heft. She halted just behind the big man. ‘Hey. Franz.’

Franz turned around.

Swinging with everything she had, Miriam shattered the bottle across the big man’s nose. Franz’s head snapped back, and blood gushed from his nostrils. He didn’t fall, though. He stood there with a surprised look, then clamped his jaw tight as crimson crossed his bared teeth.