Authors: Jack Du Brul
The Medusa stone (19 page)
"Mossad?" he asked quie like your FBI."
Relief flooded through Mercer. He knew there would be no more lies. "I've heard of it. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"I guess I owe you."
"That's putting it mildly."
She blew out a long breath. "A few months ago, the Medusa photographs came to the attention of an Israeli fanatic group."
It was an answer Mercer was unprepared for. "Israeli? I thought Muslims were behind this."
Selome shook her head. "Those Europeans Habte saw in Asmara are Jewish extremists headed by Defense Minister Chaim Levine. We've known about them for a while, but we didn't realize until recently how powerful they'd become."
Mercer realized they'd all been duped. Dick Henna must have followed carefully placed false clues leading both of them to believe it was Arabs who had masterminded Harry's abduction. He was both stunned and impressed by how cleverly this had been worked out.
So many things came clear as he studied her. That's what Harry had been trying to tell him when he said his captors had given him Boodles gin or something. Harry must have known that he'd been abducted to the Mideast, but recognized that his abductors weren't Muslims. Mercer should have made the connection, and that oversight rekindled his anger at himself. He wondered how many more mistakes he'd made and how much others had paid for them.
Selome continued. "Levine and his followers want to make Israel a totalitarian theocracy. He recognized what the Medusa photos revealed and knew such a discovery, accredited to him, would ensure him the prime ministership. He tried to have them stolen from your National Reconnaissance Office, but instead they were sold to Prescott Hyde. Hyde, too, saw something in them, something that would bolster his shaky position within the State Department. We learned about all of this shortly after Hyde bought them, and I was sent to the United States to work with him. Shin Bet paid off a member of the Eritrean mission in Washington to vouch for me so Hyde never knew of my connection to Israel. My mission was to gather intelligence, especially if Levine's people tried to contact Hyde directly.
"Unfortunately for Hyde, he called you soon after I arrived in D.C. and you joined his search for the mine, shutting down that option for Levine's agents. Hyde and his wife were killed the morning you and I left for Africa."
Hyde dead too? Jesus, where was this going to end? "You left me in Rome to report your findings about Hyde to your control in Israel?"
"Is that how you figured out I was Israeli?"
"I was told by Dick Henna before we left Washington. Also, the night you came to Tiny's Bar, my best friend, Harry, was kidnapped to Beruit."
It was obvious from her expression that this was new information. "The old guy who introduced himself as you?"
"The same," Mercer replied. "The abductors appeared to have Middle Eastern connections, so I figured Israel would fit in eventually." He told her the whole story about Harry's kidnapping and about the assassination at da Vinci Airport. "I didn't know if you were on my side or not. Remember, you were working with Hyde when we met."
"It must be Levine's people holding your friend. After you turned down Hyde, they must have grabbed him to compel you to come to Africa and find the mine. The man killed in Rome the1em">
Mercer guessed Bein's warning in Rome about not harming Selome was because the Israeli feared a problem if Levine's plot had caused the death of a Shin Bet agent. They were already planning for the day they had Israel in their grasp.
Mercer guessed Bein's warning in Rome about not harming Selome was because the Israeli feared a problem if Levine's plot had caused the death of a Shin Bet agent. They were already planning for the day they had Israel in their grasp.
"Levine's a fascist," Selome said bitterly. "I know that sounds strange for one Jew to call another that, but he is. He believes in the purity of the Jewish people and wants all others out of Israel. He wants to build concentration camps and corral the Palestinians in fenced stockades.
"He's been planning this for years. I don't know if you remember the airlift of Ethiopian Jews to Israel in the eighties, but he was a major supporter of the operation. He said it was for humanitarian reasons, but even then he wanted to do away with the Palestinians who perform many of the menial jobs in Israel and replace them with African refugees."
So, Mercer thought, he and Harry had gotten in the middle of an internal Israeli problem and not some international terrorist plot. Selome was trying to stop Levine from using the Medusa photographs to give himself unfair advantage in the elections. All of his suspicions about her ebbed away. For the first time he felt that he could trust her. A dam was breaking inside of him. He'd been on his own for too long and now he had an ally. He felt like hugging her. "So your job was to keep an eye on this group and report their activities?"
"And to stop them if I could. But we came to Eritrea before I got close."
Suddenly something didn't make sense. "I understand Levine is a maniac, but I also read that his election was all but guaranteed even before we left Washington. Why is he willing to ruin his chances by going after a worthless fifty-year-old diamond mine?"
"He's not." Selome laughed for the first time in a long time. "You already know we have no interest in the Italian facility. I think the Sudanese and their backers are looking for that one. That's how they stumbled on us. Our two missions come from different directions but end at the same location."
Mercer matched her smile, the horrors of the morning sloughing off at least for a few seconds. "Before you'd arrived in the valley, when I was exploring for the older workings, I'd already guessed that you were aware of another mine in the area."
Mercer's expression suddenly changed as a new thought struck him. The white rock he'd found in the kimberlite tailings was a stone-aged tool, a hammer used thousands of years ago to crush the ore to get at the precious gems. Suddenly everything tied together: Jews, ancient mines, religious fanatics. He finally realized why the stakes were so high, and it had nothing to do with diamonds.
Oh, my God!
He tried to repress the wild thought but couldn't. "Is that mine what I think it is?" He could barely speak.
Oh, my God!
He tried to repress the wild thought but couldn't. "Is that mine what I think it is?" He could barely speak.
"We're on our way to talk to some priests who will confirm it, but yes, it is." Selome smiled at his breathless wonderment. "It'll be the greatest find of your life. The stuff of legend."
When he said it, it came out as a whisper. "King Solomon's Mine."
The Eritrea-Sudan Border
Gianelli felt like a conquering Caesar as his trucks rumbled into Eritrea. He sat in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle, the windows rolled down so he could smell the dry desert and hear the bellowing of the big twelve-cylinder turbo-diesels. Chuckling, he realized that the heavy-duty transporters loaded with mining gear and provisions weighed twic smile,myths surrounding it had spread as far as Sudan and Ethiopia.
"Rubbish," Giancarlo said dismissively.
His expression was fevered with anticipation, a sense of history weighing on his shoulders. The valley looked nothing like what he'd thought as a child, but now that he was here, he could imagine it no other way.
Across the open pan, he saw the skeleton of the head gear rising out of a watery heat mirage, recognized the support buildings next to it, and after a few minutes, saw the open Fiat his advance scouts had driven. His heart pounded with eagerness.
The trucks lumbered to the abandoned mine, wheezing as their overworked engines spooled to silence, air brakes hissing. Gianelli launched himself from the cab, running across the desert to the rim of the open shaft.
Joppi Hofmyer was the first to join him.
"This is it," Giancarlo gasped. "Two lifetimes of work, mine and my uncle's, and here it is." He gave no consideration to the earlier news that the mine was empty. It was a possibility he would not allow.
There was no way the mine could be worthless, he thought. Enrico had been sure there were diamonds in the area, had died believing it. Gianelli had always felt that if his uncle's plane hadn't been shot down during the war, he would have given the family proof. Mercer hadn't taken enough time to properly explore the subterranean tunnels, he told himself, nor did he have the proper equipment for a thorough search. The diamonds were here.
"Yes, sir," the South African replied uneasily. "Ah, Mr. Gianelli, I'd like to know how you want to handle this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Now that we're here, do you want me to take charge of the men, or are you going to be issuing the orders?"
Gianelli's laugh was a quick barking sound. "Joppi, my friend, I am one of those people who knows how to hire others for their knowledge and abilities. I'm paying you because you know how to extract minerals from the ground, an art that I know nothing about. From now on, you are in complete control. However you want to handle this operation, whatever steps you feel necessary, are fine. Consider me nothing more than an interested observer."
Hofmyer turned away, more disturbed by Gianelli's sudden bonhomie than he cared to admit. "Okay, you fookin'
kaffirs
," he bellowed at the Sudanese troopers clustered near the trucks. "Until those refugees get here, you bastards are going to be miners. You take orders from Mahdi, and as of this moment Mahdi takes orders from me. Once I get the checklist, I want ten men unloading the camp stores and setting up the tents.
kaffirs
," he bellowed at the Sudanese troopers clustered near the trucks. "Until those refugees get here, you bastards are going to be miners. You take orders from Mahdi, and as of this moment Mahdi takes orders from me. Once I get the checklist, I want ten men unloading the camp stores and setting up the tents.
"I want the rest of you unloading the mining gear, separating underground equipment from surface stuff. If you don't know what something is, ask either me or one of the other white miners and don't forget to call him
Baas.
" The four other South Africans grinned at this. "You boys," he said to the whites, "I want the explosives off-loaded and placed in a protective redoubtment no closer than five hundred yards from the mine or the camp. Now, someone bring me the three
kaffirs
who were already here when the scouts arrived."
Baas.
" The four other South Africans grinned at this. "You boys," he said to the whites, "I want the explosives off-loaded and placed in a protective redoubtment no closer than five hundred yards from the mine or the camp. Now, someone bring me the three
kaffirs
who were already here when the scouts arrived."
Habte sat handcuffed in the shade of the scout's Fiat with the two Eritrean equipment operators. Neither of the hired workers understood what was happening. Their market square. As of yet, the Caucasians he had seen at the Ambasoira Hotel had not made their appearance. When they did, he knew that he could expect little help from them. This time the enemy of his enemy was not his friend.
Two Sudanese rebels approached and gestured with their rifles for the trio to follow. Led back to the open mine shaft, Abebe began praying aloud. Habte had faced death many, many times before, and he would not let his own fear show.
Joppi sauntered over a few moments later, his gut sagging over his belt. With an expert eye he looked over the three captives, fixing his gaze on Habte, recognizing him as their leader. With a casualness that belied the brutality of the act, he stepped forward, planted his hands on Abebe's shoulders, and shoved him into the pit.
Abebe's scream echoed up from the shaft, diminishing like a siren until it was cut off with an undeniable finality. Habte didn't so much as blink when Joppi's eyes bored into his, waiting for a reaction that the Eritream refused to give. They were locked in this frozen tableau for several breaths.
"Oh, you're an uppity nigger, aren't you?" Hofmyer finally said. "You want me to push your other friend in as well, or do you want to start answering some questions?"
Habte willed himself not to say that the South African hadn't asked any, knowing such a retort would cause the murder of the other equipment operator. He allowed his eyes to drop in a pose of submission that Joppi interpreted as a victory. Like many others from his country who hadn't taken the time to understand traditional African ways, Joppi believed Habte's silence connoted acceptance. "That's better, now. Why don't you tell me what you were doing at the far end of the valley?"
Balancing his desire to defy the Boer and his realization that the longer he was alive the better his chances were for escape, Habte told Hofmyer everything.
An hour later, the trucks rumbled away from the Italian mine so they could set up their camp a short distance from the ancient one.
The Open Desert
In hindsight, Mercer felt he should have chanced the mine field again after the Sudanese had withdrawn in order to recover any useful equipment from the burned-out Land Cruiser, especially canteens. Or his sat-phone. Though he continued to carry the single backpack, everything in it was worthless for the ordeal to come. With nightfall only an hour away and their bodies ravaged by thirst, those short few yards through the mines could have made the difference between survival or perishing in the desert.
Without food, they could last for a couple of weeks, but a lack of water would kill them long before starvation. Mercer's mouth was beyond dry. His tongue felt like the scaly body of some desert reptile. The last time he was able to swallow, hours ago it seemed, his throat screamed in desiccated protest, as if lined with ground glass. While a woman's body was better suited to survival situations, Selome wasn't faring well either as they trudged under the unrelenting African sun. Inventorying their condition, Mercer judged that they would be dead in twenty-four to thirty-six hours if they couldn't find water. Selome's revelations, about herself, her mission, and the King Solomon mine had buoyed him for a while, but now his mind focused only on the miles.
With the setting sun at their backs, the desert bloomed crimson, painted in shades and shadows that made the steep mountains look like fairy-tale castles, heavily t them pause under normal circumstances, but as night deepened, they simply continued to walk, their pace slowing with each footfall.
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