What if he dropped her on purpose, hoping she’d smash into a thousand pieces to prove that he’d been right all along?
Carrie reigned in her stampeding thoughts. How could she even think such a thing? She was sure it hadn’t crossed Dan’s mind.
Then why had it crossed hers?
Maybe she was losing perspective. It was the heat, the distance from home, the isolation of the desert...it was the epiphany of standing before the Mother of God and then cradling her remains in her arms.
So much had happened in the past 24 hours and the cumulative effect was...overwhelming.
She shook herself and concentrated on the blue of the descending bundle, twisting and swaying on its slowly lengthening tether. Dan was out of sight beyond the lip. She lifted her arms, waiting. Soon it was just above her, and then she had a grip on two of the binding cords. As it continued its descent she swung it around and guided it feet first toward the open rear door of the Explorer.
And then it was done. The Virgin was off the tav and safely at rest in the back of their car.
Dan must have noticed the sudden slack. His voice drifted down from overhead.
“Everything okay down there?”
She waved without looking up. Her eyes were fixed on the blanket-wrapped bundle lying before her. She still didn’t know what she’d do with the Virgin once she got her to New York; she simply knew she had to keep her near.
She spoke softly. “Perfect.”
“Heads up!” Dan called from above.
She glanced up and saw the remaining length of the rope stretched out in the air, coiling like a collapsing spring as it fell to earth.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later he arrived, lugging the lamp and the flashlights. He quickly loaded them into the back of the Explorer.
Carrie said, “What about the rope?”
“We’ll leave it. Can’t fly it back to the States anyway.”
“How about that other cave? Didn’t you say you wanted to take a look in it before we leave?”
He stared across the canyon a moment, then shook his head.
“Maybe some other time.”
“Other time? When will there be another time?’
“Probably never. But I think I’ve had enough of this place for now. I’d like to be out of here.”
Carrie nodded. She had the same feeling. She didn’t know why, but she had an urge to put this place behind them as quickly as possible.
‡
As Kesev cruised down Route 90 he saw a black, truck-like vehicle pull onto the highway about half a mile ahead and accelerate toward him in the northbound lane. No roads around here, at least nothing paved. Whoever was driving must have been roaming the hills and desert. Nothing unusual about that. Off-road exploring was popular with tourists these days, which was why the rental companies in the Central and South districts did such a brisk business in four-wheel drive vehicles. But what bothered Kesev was where the truck had come onto the highway.
Right where Kesev always turned off.
He gave it a good going over as it passed: black Ford Explorer, dust caked, man driving, woman in the rear seat, Eldan Rent-A-Car sticker on the back bumper. He made a mental note of the license plate.
When he made his usual turn off and saw the still settling dust trailing west toward the hills, he stopped his Jeep and jotted the license plate number in the notepad he always carried.
Just in case.
They he gunned the Jeep toward the uplands.
He had a bad feeling about this.
That bad feeling worsened as he spotted patches of rutted earth and tire tracks here and there along the path toward the Resting Place. Never, in all the times he’d been back and forth, had he encountered a single tire track this far into the Wilderness. Not even his own from previous trips. Sharav, the incessant desert wind, saw to that, scouring the land clean of all traces of human passage, usually overnight.
Which meant these were fresh tracks. But who’d made them? The couple in that Explorer? Or somebody else—somebody who even now might be desecrating the Resting Place.
Despite the Jeep’s efficient air-conditioning, Kesev began to sweat. He upped his speed past the safety limit into the reckless zone. He didn’t care. Something was wrong here.
He ground his teeth and cursed himself for not leaving last night.
Finally the tav rock hove into view. No other vehicles in sight, but that brought no relief—he was following a double set of tire tracks. Two vehicles? Or a single vehicle arriving and departing?
He swung around the front of the tav and let out a low moan as he spotted the lengthy coil of rope tangled under the overhang.
“Lord in Heaven,” he whispered, “don’t let this be! Please don’t let this be!”
Fear knotted around his heart as he gunned the jeep into the canyon and slewed to a halt at the base of the path to the top. Without bothering to turn off the engine, he leaped out and scampered up the ledge as fast as he dared, muttering and crying out as he climbed.
“Never should have left here”...Please, God! Let her still be there!...”What was I thinking?”...Dear Lord, if she is still there I swear I will never leave this place again. Not even for food!...”Should have moved back after the scroll was stolen, should have foreseen this!”...Please hear me, Lord, and have mercy on a fool!
The instant Kesev’s head cleared the top of the plateau, his eyes darted to the mouth of the Resting Place. At first glance the barricade of rocks appeared undisturbed and he slumped forward onto the ledge, gasping, nearly sobbing in relief. But as he rose to his feet to send up a fervent prayer of thanks, he spotted the dark crescent atop the barricade—an opening into the Resting Place. The sight of it drove a blade of panic into his throat.
“No!”
He broke into a dead run, clambered up the rocks and all but dove head first into the opening. Enough light streamed through the opening to guide his way to the tunnel. He scrambled through to the second chamber. Stygian darkness here. Kesev’s heart was a mailed fist pounding against the inner wall of his ribs as he felt his way across the chamber to the niche where the Mother’s bier had been set. His fingers found the edge, then hesitated of their own accord, as if afraid to proceed any further, afraid to find the niche empty.
He forced them forward—
Empty!
“No!”
Sobbing, he dropped to his knees and crawled around on the stone floor, running his hands over every inch of its craggy surface, choking in the clouds of dust he raised, all in the futile hope that she might still be here.
But she was not. The Mother was gone. The Resting Place had been vandalized and the Mother stolen.
Tearing at his beard, Kesev staggered to his feet and screamed as the blackness surrounding him seeped into his despairing soul.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”
For an eternal moment he stood there, impotent, lost, devoid of the most tenuous hope, frozen, incapable of thought...
And then he remembered the car he’d seen turning onto Route 90 earlier...the black Explorer.
Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he still had a chance. He had no honor to salvage, and no hope of redemption, but if he could retrieve the Mother and return her to the Resting Place, he could continue his task as her guardian.
Hope bubbled up like a cold spring in the heart of a desert...but he dared do little more than wet his lips.
All the way back to the highway, Kesev fixed the image of the Explorer in his mind, trying to remember whatever details he could about the driver and passenger. They’d been shadows, identifiable as male and female and little more. When he screeched onto Route 90 again, he floored the accelerator, pushing the Jeep to 150 kilometers an hour in the open stretches, ready to flash his Shin Bet ID at any highway cop who tried to slow him down.
He called information and learned that Eldan had a car rental office in the Jerusalem Hilton.