‘Your cut of the bounty. Three-point-three million. A bit bigger than expected since Lillian had GSC match our share.’
‘I always liked her,’ Meat said.
‘And you’re about to like her even more … because she agreed to send Jam’s and Camel’s widows their cut. Hazo’s sister, Anyah, got his share. I’ve got an envelope for Tommy, too. How’s that for classy?’ He patted Meat on the shoulder.
Finally Meat raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Whoa. Now that is a nice payday.’
‘Sure is.’ Jason raised his champagne and made a small toast. ‘Here’s to living to fight another day.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Meat said, clinking his glass, then gulping the champagne.
‘Hey, Google!’ a distinctly Bostonian voice called out.
Jason turned and saw Flaherty strutting towards him with a confident swagger. When he saw the beauty on Flaherty’s arm, he almost swooned.
‘Hubba hubba,’ Meat said. ‘That the archaeologist?’
‘That’s her.’ Wearing an elegant evening gown that accentuated nothing but toned curves, Professor Brooke Thompson looked like she’d taken a detour off the red carpet at the Oscars.
‘She single?’
‘Flaherty’s already staked a claim,’ Jason replied flatly.
‘Luck of the Irish.’ Meat took another swig of champagne.
‘Hey, fellas,’ Flaherty said cheerily. He shook hands with Jason and Meat in turn, then formally introduced Brooke.
‘Really great to finally meet a pair of modern-day heroes,’ she said.
‘We could say the same for you,’ Jason said.
Flaherty cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows.
‘Yes, and, of course, you’re a hero too, Tommy,’ Jason added with the utmost sensitivity.
They all had a laugh as the attentive waiter delivered two more champagne flutes for Brooke and Flaherty.
‘By the way, Tommy,’ Jason said, taking another white envelope out from his pocket, ‘I’ve got something for you.’
‘Looks important.’
‘You could say that.’ Jason grinned and held it out for him.
‘It can wait, though, right? I mean, this is Brooke’s night.’
‘Sure.’ Jason pocketed the envelope.
Flaherty raised his glass for a quick toast. ‘To the vanquished foe and the heroes we know.’
They clinked glasses and sipped champagne.
‘This must all be pretty exciting,’ Jason said to Brooke. ‘To be the honorary guest at the world’s foremost museum for ancient artifacts. The press, the glitz …’
‘It’s all a bit nerve-racking, actually,’ Brooke admitted readily. She spotted the film crew from National Geographic shooting exclusive footage of the gala.
The evening’s main event would be her highly anticipated dedication speech that would retell an ancient story of mysticism, betrayal, and retribution written in what proved to be the world’s oldest documented language. The feature-length documentary, tentatively titled The Queen of the Night, would premier on IMAX screens before being broadcast round the world in a two-hour National Geographic special. Included would be Brooke’s in-depth analysis of the cache of Mesopotamian tomb relics on display here tonight that bore testament to elaborate funerary rituals predating Egyptian mummification by over 1,500 years. Inevitably, she’d be pressed on rumours concerning the relics’ mysterious procurement, but she’d stick to her story that her client wished to remain anonymous and had provided explicit directives to return the collection to its rightful home in Iraq as soon as the political situation permitted.
‘I’m finally going to get to tell my story,’ Brooke said. ‘I’m just not sure if the world is ready to hear it.’
‘Speaking of telling your story,’ Flaherty said, reaching into his pocket. ‘I’ve got an envelope too.’ He handed the envelope to Brooke. ‘I received a Fed-Ex at the hotel this morning. But figured I’d surprise you.’
‘What is this?’ she asked.
‘Your carbon dates,’ Flaherty replied.
Anticipation glinted in her eyes as she stared at the envelope.
‘Dates for what?’ Meat asked.
‘The organic stuff we found in Stokes’s vault,’ Flaherty explained. ‘Lilith’s head, of course … plus the snake and the rat it ate.’
‘I’ve had my share of rats, thanks,’ Meat said.
‘Actually, the rat wound up being the key to everything,’ Brooke explained. ‘We found out that the rat was also carrying the plague. In fact, it was the primary host. So we theorized that while Lilith was feeding infected rats to her pet snake, she was bitten and caught the plague … became a carrier, too.’
‘That is gross,’ Meat said. ‘Sounds like Lilith was a real prize.’
‘So let’s hear those dates,’ Jason said, before sipping more champagne.
‘Go ahead … open it,’ Flaherty said to Brooke.
‘Right,’ Brooke said, her pulse drumming. She fished out the papers, unfolded them and scanned the report. ‘Okay, Lilith dates between 4032 BC and 3850 BC. Just what we expected. And her DNA matches closest to … ancient Persia,’ she said, feeling a chill creep over her skin. Persia, where Lilith and Samael became lovers. She flipped to the next page. ‘The rat … is in about the same date range. And the snake—’ Her face blanched. She shook her head. ‘No, this can’t be right. This is impossible …’ she murmured.
‘What is it?’ Flaherty asked.
‘They couldn’t date it. Came up with an error.’
Flaherty shrugged. ‘Okay. I guess that can happen, right?’
‘Shouldn’t,’ she said. ‘Any organic substance from 4000 BC should have plenty of carbon-14 in it.’
‘But isn’t there an age limit for those tests?’ Jason said.
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Well, what’s the limit?’ Flaherty asked her.
She drew her lips tight and raised her eyebrows. ‘Typically the test is good for up to 50 or 60,000 years. After that, whatever carbon-14 is left in the specimen is usually too minuscule to measure.’
It was Meat who cast rationale to the wind, saying matter-of-factly, ‘So maybe the snake is over 60,000 years old.’ Then he grinned and made his eyes go wide, saying in his best spooky voice, ‘Or maybe the demon snake was never alive to begin with.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Kudos to my wife, Caroline, for her diehard patience and encouragement, plus her keen guidance during this story’s conceptual development. Special thanks to my friends Greg Meunier and Gary Stephens for their technical input on all things military. Deepest gratitude to my uncompromising agent and publishing guru, Charlie Viney. Thanks to Doug Grad for his masterful editing skills. Cheers to Ian Chapman, Julie Wright, Jessica Leeke, Amanda Shipp and everyone at Simon and Schuster UK for their continued support. My stories would only be read in English if it weren’t for the global marketing savvy of International Literary Agency, so thanks to Nicki Kennedy, Sam Edenborough, Mary Esdaile, Jenny Robson, and Katherine West.
AUTHOR NOTE
Michael Byrnes lives in Florida with his wife and three children. He holds a Masters degree in business administration from Rutgers University and is a highly successful insurance broker. His writing is inspired by a lifelong fascination with science, theology, and the human condition. The Genesis Plague is his third novel.