Moses & Mac, page 11
part #1 of Vatican Archaeological Service Series
“It’ll be surrounded by police, the military, and Mossad agents in no time,” Rabbi Sever said. “You’ll have to move like the wind.”
“You’ll see the Church of Our Lady of the Covenant at the highest point of the village,” Father Logan said. “Take some clothes from the people on the plane, disguise yourselves well and head toward it. There’s a rough path through dense forest that will lead you there. About a kilometer up the hill before you even reach the church, you’ll come across a gardener’s shed. Enter it. There’s a trap door to a tunnel. Just make sure you close it well. We don’t want anyone discovering it. The tunnel will lead you to another safe room. Get out and continue north along the path. Rachel, you know the area better than I do now.”
“The path will take you to the Tel Aviv-Jerusalem Highway. It’ll be pretty busy, but you can follow it toward Jerusalem.”
“Once there hail a taxi and go to the Grace Bed and Breakfast. Ask for Rudy Mendelsohn. Tell him you’re my nephew, Eoin, and he’ll get you a room, no questions asked. He knows me well.”
“But you have to give fake names and only use cash,” Rabbi Sever chimed in. “Don’t use your passports or credit cards at any time.”
“Dump your phone, Mackenzie. The RCMP can trace you through it. Eoin, you’ll need to dump yours, too. You can get some cheap ones in Jerusalem. I’ll get Father Gustave to send new identities and passports and wire you money at the bed and breakfast. Whoever wants what Mackenzie has, already knows that you’re in the air. It won’t be long before they know you’re not headed for Tel Aviv. But they won’t be able to react quickly when you make that detour.”
“What about the cell phones and computers on the plane?” I asked.
“Leave them. We’re not equipped to access them. I’m sure the RCMP forensics people will be getting in touch with you soon and accessing the data. If not, Mossad will confiscate them once they get on the plane. The RCMP will have to go through them.”
“So, I’m a VAS agent now, too?” Eoin asked.
“You were a VAS agent the instant I told you about us. Work with Mackenzie and don’t trust anyone until we know who is with us and who is against us.”
“My plane blew up,” Eoin said.
“I heard and I’m really sorry about that.”
“Sorry doesn’t work for me. That was my livelihood. I owe a lot of money on it. Can the Vatican help?”
“If you’re working for them, they may be able to help you out. Let’s wait until Cardinal Z gets to the Vatican or Father Gustave gets things going. We can ask about reimbursement then.”
“Stay safe,” Rabbi Sever said. “Call us day or night.”
“God be with you,” Father Logan said.
Great. We were now fugitives from all law-enforcement agencies.
I hung up and slumped in the co-pilot’s chair. “Welcome to VAS, E.O.I.N.”
“Coming from a veteran like you, I feel very warm and fuzzy.”
I grabbed the bottle of wine by my chair and topped up my glass.
“You were badass.”
I held the glass in midair. “I wasn’t when I woke up this morning.” I checked the time. It was a few minutes short of midnight—and the end of my thirtieth birthday. I had a new cell, so I had no idea if anyone had called to wish me a happy birthday.
“Why so glum?”
Had I been that transparent? “Five more minutes until the stroke of midnight and then it’s not my thirtieth birthday anymore.” I took a sip of my wine. “Not one birthday wish from any of my family or friends.” I took another sip in consolation.
“Anything I can do?” he asked.
I looked at him from under my lashes and smiled. Then he smiled.
I slammed the cockpit door shut and whipped the flogger out, snapping it in the air. “Put the plane on auto pilot, Eoin.”
And I was keeping my newfound heels on.
Chapter Fourteen
I sat in the co-pilot’s chair, drinking a triple shot of espresso and watching Eoin sleep in the pilot’s chair. He didn’t hold his post sex adrenaline well. He fell asleep soon after our second round. I, on the other hand, was wired. I always get energized after the first round, and until tonight it had only been one round. I did my best work after my second wind (technically, my third wind now) but there was nothing here for me to work on but gaze out into the dark skies and listen for unusual bleeps, signals or static or the techy talk of other pilots.
When the RCMP digital forensics geeks called me, I was thrilled to have something to do. I spread the devices out on the kitchen table that Interpol Sophie was still wrapped to, followed the forensic geeks’ instructions and watched as they hacked in. I returned to the cockpit, tucked a blanket around Eoin, and turned my thoughts to my life.
I’m not sure if it was the spontaneous and ravenous sex, the mix of champagne, wine and espresso, or the extraordinary events of my thirtieth birthday, but I had turned into a one-woman explosion. I certainly hadn’t been earlier in the day. I was Professor Braden then, embarking on another school year with new students, researching my article on gastronomy in George Eliot’s novels, and sleepwalking through life. Yesterday morning felt more like twenty-four days ago rather than twenty-four hours ago. I didn’t know who I was anymore, but I was considering giving up my bikini panties and investing in thongs when I got back to Toronto.
I saw on the GPS that we had entered Israeli airspace. No more time to contemplate the color of thongs or myself as a small wonder woman in the making.
“Wake up, Eoin.” I nudged his nice muscular arm. “It’s time to party.”
He looked alluringly big-boy innocent as he tried to figure out where he was. “Again?”
“With the plane. We’re over Israeli airspace.”
Eoin blinked a number of times, threw the blanket off, stretched his arms, grabbed me and gave me a deep kiss, the kind I hadn’t had since my high school days with hormone wacked-out boyfriends. “Keep that flogger with you, Doc.”
“Way ahead of you, E.O.I.N.” I patted my saddle bag. It was officially mine now.
I went to the kitchen, stepping over a still-sleeping Sophie. My second wind was seeping out of me at a rapid pace. I needed more coffee, or I’d go down like Eoin.
“Espresso, cappuccino or regular?” I asked.
“A super-size regular, please. Black.”
As I made it, I noticed that computers and cell phones were still being accessed by the RCMP. As the coffee dripped away, I checked on my sleeping beauties. They were still out but Yaser’s bandage was soaked with blood. It needed to be redressed again, but what he needed was a surgeon. He’d be getting help from an Israeli surgeon soon enough, so I wasn’t too worried. Jonathon Zingel, however, needed to get himself checked out by an ear, nose and throat specialist. He snored like a grizzly bear.
I headed to the plush bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, found several packaged toothbrushes and used one to brush my teeth. I still had on Sophie’s shoes. They weren’t practical, but I wasn’t parting with them. I deserved them after all that shooting and chaos. If Sophie turned out to be a real Interpol pilot and wannabe agent and her mother was Deena Kassab, then I’d send them back to her. Sister number three had to see them on my feet first.
But they had to come off now. I had some stealth and speedy work coming up in unknown territory that needed me in my trusty Oxfords.
I put them in my saddlebag next to the flogger and put on my shoes. Father Logan had told me to find clothes to disguise ourselves from officials. Yaser was thinner and shorter than Eoin, but I found a big T-shirt in his suitcase and a pair of track pants that looked like they’d fit him, along with a Manchester United cap and put them in my luggage.
I went back to the kitchen and found some croissants in a cabinet and smoked salmon and cream cheese in the fridge. I put them on a plate, poured coffee in two big Royal Doulton mugs and brought them to Eoin on what could have been a real silver tray. He ate most of the salmon before even taking one sip of coffee. I sat in the co-pilot’s chair and ate the most buttery croissant I had ever had and sipped at a wonderful brew of coffee. This was certainly the life. Expensive wine, exquisite food, private luxury jet and my own pilot and now lover. It was unfortunate it came with bullets, too.
“If you want to clean up there’s a bathroom in the bedroom on the left. There’s even a new toothbrush. I left it on the counter. Don’t go into the room on the right.”
“Why not?”
On second thought. “Go ahead.” Too bad there wasn’t time to explore and experiment.
Eoin put the plane on auto pilot and went to clean up. He came back about ten minutes later with wet hair and a dewy face. “Room number one looks like a lot of fun.” He sat down just as we got closer to Telz-Stone. “You ready?”
I grabbed the cups and plates along with Eoin’s cell. “Let’s rock and roll.” I brought them back to the kitchen while Eoin started to declare mayday. I took the coffee pot, dropped his cell and mine in the remainder of the coffee and filled it with soap and hot water. I strapped myself back in the co-pilot’s chair. Eoin told the air traffic controller he was having trouble. Then he shut off the radio and the transponder as Father Logan had instructed until the field he had sent the co-ordinates for came into sight. He shut the radio off and landed the plane.
Once we were on the ground, we rushed out into the start of a blistering day. I had my saddle bag slung across my chest while Eoin carried my one piece of luggage. We headed in the direction Father Logan had said. The path was still accessible but overrun with branches and brush.
We ran for a good twenty minutes until we spied the gardener’s shack. The door had a padlock, but it was so rusty that one swipe at it with a rock opened it. We went in, closing the door behind us. There were sacks of earth, stones, seeds, pails, shovels, and hoes. Eoin opened a rickety cabinet door, saw the flashlights, pushed aside the cobwebs, and located the trap door in the floor. He handed me the flashlights and pulled at a handle in the floor. The cabinet lifted.
Father Logan had said there was another trapdoor with a safety latch that needed to be turned to open. Eoin began clearing earth. He found the latch, turned it, and lifted the door to reveal a ladder running down one side of the tunnel. I put the flashlights in my saddle bag and went in first, climbing down about two meters in sheer darkness. At the bottom, I opened both flashlights, shining them on Eoin.
“I’m dropping the suitcase.”
I moved away and the suitcase fell with a big thud. Eoin closed the trapdoor and climbed down. Once beside me, he picked up the suitcase and I gave him a flashlight.
The tunnel was narrow, supported by beams of wood. A room lay ahead. We strode toward it to find a big space exactly as Father Logan had described. It was the VAS safe room complete with a bunk bed, sink, toilet, desk and chair covered in cobwebs, earth, lots of dried animal poop along with some dead rodents. Spread everywhere were plastic boxes of clothes and equipment and other gadgets that would have been handy thirty years ago but now were too dilapidated to be of use. Another tunnel continued past the room.
I opened my luggage and changed into a tank top, shorts, and runners, pulled my hair back into a ponytail and donned the safari hat my parents had brought back for me from Cape Town. Eoin put on the T-shirt and pants I had found in Yaser’s luggage along with the cap. I stuffed our clothes in my suitcase.
“Until our new identities and passports arrive from the Vatican, we’re now Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy—make that Darcy Fitzwilliam from Kingston, Ontario.” I wondered if Eoin would know that the names were from Pride and Prejudice, but he didn’t. I thought it would bother me, but it didn’t in the least.
We continued through the tunnel another hundred feet or so until we saw a ladder attached to a beam. Eoin climbed up and pushed at the trapdoor until it creaked open. Earth fell down on me, along with rocks and small dead rodents.
“Sorry,” he said.
I grimaced and cleaned myself as best as I could. I was a VAS agent. There was no room for pettiness.
Eoin pushed at another trapdoor and went through. I climbed up after him. We found ourselves in a shed similar to the other. We looked out the door but saw no one. Sirens blared around us. The plane was probably swarming with police and special agents as well as fire trucks and ambulances, but it wouldn’t be long before the area and the sheds would be searched.
We pushed open the door. Leaning against the shed were several bicycles that had more years on them than Eoin and me. The tires were flat and there was no pump in sight. We would have to use our legs again and make our way toward the highway and then to Jerusalem.
Without saying a word, we raced hand in hand along the path until we could hear cars moving ahead of us and spied the highway. We got to the side of the highway and Eoin dropped like a boulder, almost bringing me down with him.
“Eoin!” This was not a good time to fall asleep. We were in full view of all cars whizzing by. I bent down and tried to wake him, but he didn’t respond.
A red minivan dashed by. It moved off the highway and came to a screeching stop just in front of us. An Orthodox Jewish woman dressed in a dark shirt, long skirt, hosiery, flat shoes and with a headscarf tied around her hair jumped out of the car.
“I am so sorry!” She rushed toward us. “So very sorry! I didn’t know that man wasn’t a Mossad agent anymore!”
“Excuse me?” My ears had perked up at ‘wasn’t a Mossad agent anymore’.
The woman stopped in front of us. At first glance I had thought her older, but she couldn’t have been more than in her late teens or early twenties.
“Jonathon Zingel. He said he was a Mossad agent and I believed him. I should have checked his credentials—after all it had been many years since we had any need for a Mossad agent—but I wasn’t thinking.” She took a deep breath. “It’s all so new to me and he was in Spain—so close to Newfoundland—oh my, I am so very sorry!” Another deep breath.
I straightened up. Her eyes were as innocent as a baby’s. But I couldn’t take a chance and trust her. “I think there’s been some mistake.”
“Yes, and it’s mine, all mine. I’m Adiva Kleiman, Gideon’s daughter—his youngest.”
I still wasn’t sure who she was talking about.
“Gideon Kleiman.” She waited. “VAS Jerusalem.” Another pause. “You’re Professor Mackenzie Braden.” She looked down at Eoin sprawled on the dust and gravel. “And this is Major Eoin Reilly, your pilot. Right?”
The girl had all the facts right but under that Orthodox guise and infectious smile, there could be a scheming treasure hunter or terrorist, or government official gone wrong.
Adiva’s gaze was fixed on Eoin. “Is Major Reilly all right?”
“He’s…sleeping.”
“Sleeping?”
Sirens were coming toward us. I started to panic and so did she.
“Professor Braden, I need you to believe me.”
The sound of the sirens got stronger. There was no choice here. “Can you help me get him out of sight?”
She seemed relieved. “We can put him in the back of the car.” She opened the hatchback, and I threw in my saddle bag and suitcase. We both grabbed Eoin by the arms and legs but couldn’t pick him up. We lifted him by the arms and shoulders and dragged him up. Once he was partially in the trunk, we picked up his legs and pushed him in. If anyone in the numerous cars was paying attention we’d looked like we were kidnapping him.
“Major Reilly has a lot of muscle,” Adiva said.
Yes, and all of it was great—except now. “He’s all soldier.”
“Jump into the back, too, Professor. We don’t want anyone to see you. I’ll explain everything while we’re driving.”
I jumped in and closed the hatchback. I hoped I had made the right decision. I didn’t want to fight any more bad guys if I could help it.
“There’s a blanket back there. Use it to cover yourselves.” I found the blanket and threw it over both of us. Eoin started to stir.
“Keep utterly quiet,” I said.
He kissed me. “Were we in the middle of something?”
“In the middle of not getting caught.”
“Under a blanket?”
Adiva shot the minivan out like it was a missile, making us bang against the walls.
“And in the back of a minivan,” I said, holding onto a seat belt.
The car sped up and Eoin rolled on to me. Not that I minded but we did have company.
He kissed me again. “Can you tell me who’s driving?”
“Adiva Kleiman,” she shouted. “I hear well, Major Reilly. That was sweet by the way.”
More sirens passed us. Eoin and I remained motionless until they faded.
“All clear,” Adiva said. “I don’t see any more officials we should steer clear of.”
Eoin and I pulled ourselves up into a sitting position.
“So, can you tell me now how you know of us and VAS and rogue Mossad agents? And how you knew where to find us?”
“My father is a wonderful man, Professor, but in the last few years he’s been delusional. He’s been talking strange—or so I thought. All my brothers and sisters—I have five of each by the way and I’m number eleven. They’re all married and out of the house. I’m the only one left at home and I take care of him when I’m not in school—pharmaceutical science—I hate it, but that’s another story.”
I grabbed the seatbelt as she made a wicked lane change. “You’re not married?”
“No—oh you mean my tichel—my headscarf?”
“I thought only married Orthodox women wore them?”
“My father thinks I’m married and insists that I wear one. It’s actually been working in my favor in the last little while. My last hair dye didn’t quite work for me. Anyway, it’s just me and my father and he started to tell me stories about spies, villains, biblical artifacts, and secret headquarters. I always thought he was making them up, but he kept disappearing for long periods and wouldn’t tell me where he went. One day I followed him and he led me right to the VAS Israeli headquarters under Hecht Synagogue in the Hebrew University. He had nothing to do but he went through old files and artifacts and seemed to come alive. Under the blanket again!”
