PROLOGUE
2158 Words
PROLOGUE
Richmond, Virginia
10:15 P.M.
The house stood at the end of a little cul-de-sac in a fashionable area of Richmond. Not the rich old part of town, with antebellum mansions sporting columned facades, that was home to the old money, but a more modern area of established professionals. The kind of neighborhood for lawyers and bankers, real estate agents and physicians. If the Lion of Judah had been a common burglar, he would find rich pickings here.
But the Lion of Judah was not here to steal jewelry and computers. Material wealth did not interest him. Things were of this Earth and therefore unimportant, and money was simply a useful tool to achieve one’s ends.
No, he wasn’t after computers or cash. He was here for something far more valuable.
Information.
And among all the neighborhood’s resident M.D.s and C.A.s and A.A.L.s, the lone Ph.D. at the end of the road stood out.
Professor Edward Hale of the University of Virginia, a tenured professor of Old Testament history and theology, knew more about early Judaism than anyone else in the United States, so he was a good place to start. He had spent his career sharing that knowledge with students through his years of lectures, and with readers through his countless academic books and articles.
Or at least some of his knowledge. The Lion of Judah knew he was holding back on the most important knowledge of all.
Tonight, Professor Edward Hale was going to share that knowledge, one way or the other.
The Lion of Judah parked his car across the street, checking the area to make sure no late-night pedestrians were around. He saw no one. Good. Neighborhoods like this tended to be quiet, and he knew, from scouting the area for several nights in a row, that the dog walkers and joggers tended to go to a well-lit park just a quarter mile away.
Checking himself in the rear-view mirror, he could see he would not make a threatening impression. Nice summer suit, carefully combed hair going a bit bald in late middle age, and an intellectual air. He grabbed a book from the passenger’s seat. Not a history book or theological treatise, just a novel about Navy Seals fighting terrorists. It didn’t matter. All the professor would see was a book, and that would make him think of the Lion of Judah as a kindred spirit.
He wouldn’t have time to see any more.
After a final glance to make sure the coast was clear, the Lion of Judah locked his car and strolled across the street to the professor’s front door and rang the doorbell. The lights were on, and the Lion of Judah knew Professor Hale would be alone. His wife had died a couple of years before and his children had all grown and moved away. This late on a school night, he would not have any company.
The sound of approaching footsteps from the other side of the door. An aging, intellectual face briefly appeared at the window flanking the door. The Lion of Judah gave the man a smile and clutched the book close to his chest so the professor would be sure to see it.
As he suspected, the door opened. How many murderers brought a book to the scene of the crime?
Professor Edward Hale looked every bit the favorite professor—swept back white hair above an open, wide, and smiling face, and rugged health and good looks despite his seventy-one years. Even though it was a warm evening, he wore a tweed sportscoat and slacks. The Lion of Judah caught a whiff of bourbon as the professor greeted him.
“Hello. How may I help you?” Professor Hale asked.
The Lion of Judah, poised to spring, tried to put him at his ease with an uncertain smile and a question. “Hello, is this the MacGregors residence?”
“Heh.” A short, one-syllable chuckle. It sounded at once both contemptuous and ironic. “The MacGregors live two doors down, but I think you know that.” The professor opened the door. “Come on in. I don’t want you breaking a window.”
The Lion of Judah, taken aback, passed over the threshold.
“I presume you’re here about the Ark?” Professor Hale said, closing the door behind them.
“Um, I did have a few questions.”
“Don’t they all, don’t they all,” the professor muttered. “Come to my office.”
“Other people have questioned you about it?” the Lion of Judah asked, suspicion rising as the professor led him through an oak-paneled front hall and through a comfortably furnished living room. A bottle of bourbon and a glass sat on the coffee table, next to a stack of books. The Lion of Judah wondered if Professor Hale was drunk. His manner seemed to hint at it, but his movements did not.
He’d have to watch Hale’s every move.
“Oh, a few over the years.” The professor stopped, gestured at the bottle. “May I offer you a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“Straight down to business, eh?” the professor inclined his head, making a show of reading the novel the Lion of Judah still clutched close to his chest. “Seal Team Special Killers: Terror in Tunisia.”
The Lion of Judah gave him a sheepish grin. “I can’t read ancient Hebrew all the time.”
“Ha!” the professor clapped him on the shoulder. “We all have our guilty pleasures. Mine are bourbon and the Indy 500. You’re a veteran, aren’t you? I can tell by the erect bearing and overall physique.”
“I served.” But not in the way you think I did.
“I was in the Army for a few years. Stationed in Germany and Korea but never saw combat. But I suppose you know that. Come into my office. It’s the best place to talk shop.”
The Lion of Judah followed, utterly bewildered. This was not how he pictured the meeting at all. He thought he’d have the old academic in a headlock by now.
The next surprise came in the back hall, a narrow space leading to the open door of a cluttered office at the end.
The walls of the hallway were lined with framed photos of Gilligan’s Island. They looked like original film stills, some signed by the actors.
Professor Hale chuckled. “Surprised to see something like this in the home of one of the world’s leading theological historians? My uncle was Alan Hale, Jr. He played the Skipper.”
The Lion of Judah looked from Professor Hale to one of the photos showing the Skipper and back again.
“I see a family resemblance.”
“Sometimes I show an episode in class. Most of my students are too young to remember the show, but they get a kick out of it. Some humor is timeless. Come.”
They continued toward the office. The Lion of Judah tensed again. This familiarity, the photos, was all this just to distract him? Professor Hale was smarter than he thought. He’d have to be careful. Only one man would die tonight, and it would not be him.
At the end of the hall, the professor gestured at a black and white photo of a bunch of men in medieval garb standing in the woods.
“That’s my great uncle, Alan Hale, Sr. He was an actor too. He played Little John in the silent version of Robin Hood.”
“I didn’t know that. Are you an actor too?”
Professor Hale cast a smile over his shoulder. “I’m acting casual around you, aren’t I?”
The Lion of Judah shook his head in wonder. This was not going as he expected. Not at all.
They entered an office. Oak bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed to overflowing with books. An overly large desk was too big for the room, making it cramped. Professor Hale edged around the side and sat down, gesturing for the Lion of Judah to sit. The only available seat was a small stool he suspected the professor stood on in order to reach the highest shelves. The Lion of Judah remained standing.
“So …,” the professor leaned back and crossed his legs. “You want to know where the Ark of the Covenant is.”
“Yes,” the Lion of Judah replied, his throat going dry.
“I suppose Axum in Ethiopia is not the answer you’re looking for?”
“It doesn’t take much research to know that’s a red herring.”
“Pier Paolo Manetti thought it was there,” the professor said with a smile.
“He was a fool.”
It took all of his self-control not to spit at the mention of that man’s name.
Manetti was the Italian host of a cult TV show Misterio 2000, that investigated mysteries. The man, famous for his long moustache sticking out from the sides of his head and his habit of breaking into opera, had been arrested by Ethiopian authorities for trying to break into the St. Mary of Zion Cathedral in Axum. Great television. Poor history.
And he ended up getting murdered several months ago. Interesting that Professor Hale would bring that up.
“A fool, yes, but a richer man than you or I will ever be. Mind if I smoke?”
The Lion of Judah shrugged. “It’s your house.”
He watched the professor’s every move.
Professor Hale pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his tweed jacket. He offered him one, got a shake of the head as a response, and put one to his lips.
Next, he pulled out a lighter and brought it to the cigarette. He flicked it and got only sparks. The Lion of Judah moved his feet a bit further apart and turned slightly so he wasn’t facing the professor full on. Professor Hale, his eyes hooded, did not seem to notice as he flicked the lighter several more times and didn’t get a flame.
“Damn,” he muttered and opened a drawer in his desk.
The Lion of Judah whipped out a compact 9mm automatic from inside his jacket just as the professor started to pull out a .45.
“Drop it,” the Lion of Judah commanded. “I won’t say it twice.”
Professor Hale grimaced, dropped the pistol back in the desk with a heavy clunk, and shut the drawer.
“Your lighter works,” the Lion of Judah told him. “I saw you flicking the wheel but not hitting the lever.”
Slowly, the professor reached down, picked up the lighter, and lit the cigarette that was still between his lips.
“I admire your cool-headedness,” the Lion of Judah said.
The professor cast a look at a framed photo on his desk, showing a younger version of himself with a smiling blonde woman.
“After Jenny died, I haven’t cared much what happens to me.” He turned his gaze back to the intruder. “Which means you won’t get what you want.”
“Life is precious,” the Lion of Judah said, aiming right for the heart. “You look healthy. Another ten years of research and teaching. Twenty, maybe. Vintage bourbon, fine meals, good books. All you need to do is tell me where it is.”
Professor Hale kept his eyes fixed on the man holding a g*n to him. He did not waver as he said, “You know I won’t tell you.”
The Lion of Judah slumped a little. “You’re one of them, are you?”
A slow nod. “Yes, I’m one of them, and a quick draw and some clever research won’t make you safe from my compatriots.”
“Last chance. Tell me where the Ark of the Covenant is.”
“Go to hell.”
Fine. I’ll t*****e it out of you.
Before the Lion of Judah could put that thought into action, Hale reached for the drawer where he kept his g*n.
The Lion of Judah fired.
The shot sounded deafening in the enclosed space. Professor Hale jerked in his seat, hit his head against the bookshelf behind, then slumped face first over the desk. His last cigarette tumbled over the desk to land on the carpet, where it started to smolder.
The Lion of Judah ground it out with his foot.
“Wouldn’t want to set fire to all these important books,” he said. He put his g*n back in his shoulder holster and saluted. “Sorry to have to do this, old soldier.”
From one of his other pockets, he pulled out a clasp knife and moved over to the professor.
He began to cut.
- Writer
