Solomon's Throne (30 page)

Gideon opened the door in the gate, and they walked out. The road was paved, and only had small potholes in it. They walked downhill on the right side of the road along a dirt path that bordered the asphalt, and Rei suddenly said, “They’re driving on the wrong side like in London!”

Gideon laughed, “You didn’t notice that last night?”

“I was tired!” she protested.

“Obviously,” he teased.

They made the right turn that took them up another hill, and came to the hotel on the left. Emin Pasha was low and built into the side of a hill, with beautiful dark wood everywhere. Once they got inside and found their way to the restaurant and bar, they saw a half dozen green upholstered sofas with big coffee tables, under a roof but open to the landscaped yard. The restaurant was to the left and was also open air, and the bar behind. There were tables under umbrellas outside, and huge iron sofas with red upholstered cushions on the lawn.

“Wow!” Rei said, staring. “This is amazing!”

A waiter in white pants and a white tunic, wearing a red fez, came up to them. “Welcome!”

“We’d like to have tea now, and then lunch? Maybe on those sofas?” Rei said, pointing to the seating area.

“Yes, mum, you come.” And he led the way. They sat and gave their order, and he saw Rei’s laptop. “We have wireless internet for you, mum.” He said, and went to fill their order. Rei found a plug, and once again gave the network icon a try.

“Yes! We’re a go!” She opened her notebook and uncapped her pen.

“Ok, so here’s the letter.” She began to read.

My dearest son,

If you have retrieved this letter, you have just seen one of the greatest wonders on this good earth. Isabel and I have been in much prayer and discussion about where to leave it, as the great stone houses of the kings is such a large expanse. But I had wanted my bride to see this miracle, and her delight in the journey was a blessing from our heavenly Father on this poor man. I do not know, as I write this letter this night, where we will finally choose to leave it. I can only pray that we choose correctly, and you will find a way to pursue the next step of your quest. The journey is long, and there is much danger. But God will be with you, I am confident.

After visiting what the natives called the zimbabwe, I travelled back to the Land of the Good People. The Sao Miguel was not as fine or large a ship as the Santa Antonio de Tanna, and it had suffered much in a storm after we left the Cape of Good Hope. It was for this reason that I was persuaded to see
the zimbabwe on my original journey. The ship was almost fully repaired, the injured men recovered, and the provisioning had begun. In three week’s time, we departed and continued our journey north up the coast of Africa.

We stopped in Mombasa for two weeks, but did not linger there, and I did not find anything about it compelling so as to warrant exploration. There were no ruins, no churches of note, and I stayed on the ship for most of the time in port. We stopped likewise for a very short provisioning in Mogadishu, but the Ottomans did not welcome our visit, and we left in short order.

As we were journeying north, I heard tell of another ruin, north into the land that was once the Persian Empire. My captain had determined to stop for a trade of spices and silk at the port of Umm Qasr, in the gulf. He told me that he had once, when another ship had needed much repair, taken a journey of some two weeks to these ruins at the behest of a local sheikh, the Arabs being now ensconced in the land. He encouraged me that I would have time, should I wish for such a journey myself, and knowing my interest in such things, as he had promised his merchant friend that we would remain some days in Umm Qasr.

Consequently I found me a guide, and he took me by camel to Ctesiphon, a journey of twelve days. These are the ruins of great rulers, who did not worship my God but who were fierce and brave, and who led a kingdom through forty kings. It is there you will find my letter, my son, if it remains.

I wish you Godspeed. My Isabel and I continue to pray for you, and for your success in this quest. May God richly bless you and keep you safe.

Yours,

Joao Xavier

X

The year of our Lord 1687

“Cestis…what?” Gideon asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Me neither. Not that I’m up on my Persian history.” She opened her browser and typed in ‘Ctesiphon’. “Well, Google knows about it.” She started to read. “And we’ve got a problem already.”

“Is it gone?” Gideon asked anxiously.

“Nope. It’s in Iraq.”

Their lunch at Emin Pasha was wonderful but it was overshadowed by their dilemma. Gideon had been in the Army, but that wasn’t going to do him any favors trying to get into Iraq. And even if they got in the country, it would be extremely dangerous to wander around alone in a remote location. Gideon wanted to go without Rei, who, of course, strongly objected. And she was most likely right, anyway, as Gideon wasn’t sure he could find the next X and its accompanying letter without her.

They decided to put the problem on the back burner until they could talk to either Captain McMillan or Mr. Xavier, and tried to enjoy the setting. The food and service at the hotel was top notch, and the Ugandan beer Gideon ordered, Nile Gold, surprised him with its excellent flavor. They had eaten at one of the outdoor tables, under the red umbrella, and treated themselves to ice cream after the meal. Full, they decided to take a walk around the peaceful grounds.

As they strolled along, beside the tiled pool, along the Mediterranean inspired buildings housing the guest rooms and suites, they tried not to talk of Iraq. They recounted their adventures in Cape Town and Inhambane. They reminisced about their fortuitous rescue in Zimbabwe.

“Martin was amazing. Really. He wouldn’t take a single dime for all the help, the food, the bed…” Gideon shook his head in disbelief.

“And Shumba, walking us all that way. We were really blessed. It could just as easily have ended with rebels or soldiers or something. We did everything you’re not supposed to do, and lived to tell about it. We even got our luggage back! It’s amazing, if you think about it,” Rei said.

“No one would believe it. If we ever get to tell the story, seriously, no one will believe it! Which reminds me, I need to call Mr. Xavier and tell him we’re all right. And tell him about Iraq. I don’t think he can do much for us there… and I doubt the jet company will let Mac fly us into a war zone.”

They walked a few yards, and Rei said, “Guess we’d better get back to Jack’s, and see if they’re back from the airport. We’re going to need advice, I think. And our phones should be done charging.”

They wandered back across the beautiful grounds. The traffic noise was still out there. A big hotel was being built that was going to block some of the city view. But the birds were in the trees, the grass was green, the flowers were spectacular. Rei thought that she’d like to come back here one day, when life was a bit calmer. She took Gideon’s hand.

“No one I’d rather almost get killed with than you, hon,” she said.

Jack and McMillan hadn’t returned when they arrived at the house. Gideon got his phone and went to the garden to call Mr. Xavier. His boss wasn’t thrilled about the Iraq angle.

“Can you skip it? You know you have to go to Goa, right?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so. For one thing, I think the clue that sends us to Goa will have a lead to other clues that are there. Goa is a big territory now. The treasure is probably not in the city of what’s now called “Old” Goa, and how would we know even where to start? And there will be clues along the way. This guy doesn’t seem to have been a map guy. He’s a letter guy. I’d certainly rather have a big map with one X than fifteen letters and fifteen Xs. But that seems to be what he did, so we’re going to have to follow him. And that’s going to take us to Iraq, at least if you want us to continue.”

“I do, but not at the cost of your lives.
Maldicao!
If you can get in and out safely, then do it. Keep the jet as long as you need. But if you don’t think you can, then you must stop. One day it might be possible to go to Iraq without worry of being
explodir
.” Xavier sighed.

“That’s true, but probably not soon. I’ll keep you posted. You might want to say a prayer!” He hung up.

As he was walking into the house he heard the two pilots come in. Rei met them all in the front hall, and Gideon asked them if they had time for a consultation. Jack led them into his office.

“What’s up?” Mac said.

“We have to go to Iraq.” Gideon said.

The two men stared at him, not sure if it was a joke.

“Yeah, I know. And to make it worse, we need to go to a place that’s closer to the border with Iran than with any of the other bordering countries,” Gideon continued.

Silence.

“Hence the need for a consultation…” Gideon said hesitantly.

Both the pilots started to speak at once. “You can’t…” “It’s impossible!”

Rei stepped in. “Ok, we know it’s not…easy. But that’s where we need to go. I don’t think where we’re going is near any big war zones or anything…”

Jack snorted. “Mum, the whole country is a war zone. And they do not take kindly to regular Americans these days. If you could even get permission to get in, you would have to have an armed escort, and you could only go where they let you go.”

“So… I guess we need an unofficial way to get in, then.” Rei said, furrowing her brow.

Mac spoke, “I think it might be time to tell us what’s going on. We’re just pilots for hire, we’re not some kind of militia. But I’ve seen those guys that are after you, and I was in the Marines for ten years. If I can help…well, I’ll help.”

Gideon and Rei looked at each other for a moment, then Gideon shrugged and told the men the story, starting with the theft in Lisbon.

“If I hadn’t seen those guys, those brothers or whatever they are, I wouldn’t believe you for a skinny minute,” Mac said. “But they’re real, and they seem pretty dedicated. Jack, you know anybody in Kuwait?”

Jack thought for a minute, then opened his desk drawer and withdrew an address book. “I had a friend at university that went into the military after we graduated. He stayed in the Army ten years or so, then got out and has been doing consulting in the Middle East. I do not know where he is—I have not talked to him in some time. I have an old number…” He pulled out his cell and punched in the international code followed by the number. After a short wait, he spoke into the phone. “Richard! It is Jack Magara! I am needing some information, and I thought that you might be able to provide it. If you can, give me a call, please.” He recited his number. “
Webele
!” And he hung up.

“I do not know where he is living. It is 9:00 in the morning in the States, but if he is in the Middle East somewhere, the time will be closer.” He shrugged. “I do not know another person who could help you with this.”

McMillan had been in thought while Jack was on the phone. Now he said, “How far in country to you need to get, if you can cross at the Kuwaiti border?”

“Two hundred miles… On the Tigris River,” Gideon answered.