The Spear of Tyranny Page 7

  “It is a good plan,” Romulus added, his countenance shining like gold in the flickering light. “But we know we will encounter resistance. Every great idea is resisted in the beginning, for ignorant people cannot help but challenge what they do not understand.”

  The room swelled with silence for a long moment, then the air vibrated softly with the whispers of men who nodded and smiled at one another. Romulus had won them over.

  Another man lifted his hand, requesting permission to speak, and Romulus granted it with a stately gesture. The man, a stocky fellow with a belly that overrode his belt, stood to address his fellow councilors. “Begging President Romulus’s permission, we must settle this issue of water rights,” he said, his gaze swinging rapidly around the circle. “My country is dying of thirst. We have always had enough water, for we have been blessed with freshwater lakes, but the demand placed upon us by other members of the inter-national network is tapping our patience and our supply. We are providing water for France, Spain, and part of Germany, and we must find a suitable compromise on this issue before my own countrymen lose their spring crops.”

  “Gentlemen, I leave you to work this out among yourselves.” Romulus stood and smiled, his face radiant with an aura of power and authority. “I must attend to other matters. I give you good day.”

  With that, Romulus turned and exited the room through a door cleverly concealed in the ornate paneling. Isaac noticed that Archer and Elijah Reis followed immediately, then the portly ambassador turned again to his colleagues. “Please, gentlemen, I need your cooperation. My province must be released from the water agreements, at least until the spring rains come . . .”

  Isaac felt a discreet tug on his sleeve, then turned to see a security guard just behind his chair. “The president will see you now,” the man whispered.

  Isaac rose and followed the guard, leaving the Europeans to wrestle with their water problems.

  He had expected to be presented to Romulus in a formal situation, but the guard led him to a small study furnished with a desk and a pair of chairs before a fireplace. Isaac stood awkwardly in the tiny space, watching the fire’s shadows dance on the spines of myriad books lining the walls. What was he supposed to do next? He didn’t have long to consider the question, for in a moment, Romulus entered, his face flushed with pleasure.

  “Major Ben-David,” he said warmly, advancing with his hand outstretched. “It is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard many good things about you.”

  Isaac felt his cheeks burn. He had not expected such a robust welcome—Romulus’s manner was a pleasant surprise.

  “Thank you, sir.” He shook the European’s hand. “I appreciate the personal welcome. I hope you did not leave an important meeting on my account.”

  Romulus made a face. “Bah! Water rights! I am heartily sick of the discussion. We have known drought before, and the earth has always survived. They quibble like children over nothing of consequence.”

  Releasing Isaac’s hand, Romulus gestured toward the chairs. “Will you join me for a moment? I won’t detain you for too long; I am sure you would like some time to settle in and explore Paris. But I did want you to know how very glad I am that you have joined our team.”

  “I am happy to be here,” Isaac murmured, surprised by the man’s reference to a team. Military liaisons were usually regarded as necessary evils, yet Romulus had welcomed him as a friend. Why was this man so different?

  He sat down as Romulus did, then rested his hands on the arms of the wing chair as Romulus crossed one leg over the other and steadily held Isaac’s gaze. “You might have noticed, Major Ben-David, that Israel and Jerusalem hold a very special place in my heart. Do you know why?”

  Rattled by the direct question and the forthright manner in which Romulus presented it, Isaac felt himself flushing again. The politicians he knew rarely came directly to the point.

  He stared at the carpet and tried to corral his runaway thoughts. He had memorized the background report on Romulus, yet from it he couldn’t find a single clue to indicate why the man might be particularly interested in Israel. Romulus had been educated in Rome, he had served in the Italian government during the early years of his career, then advanced to a position of leadership within the European Union. The man did not claim to be either a Christian, Jew, or Muslim, so he had no reason to consider Jerusalem a sacred city. He had established himself as a friend of Israel, but he had also supported various other ethnic groups. So why on earth would he particularly care about Israel?

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Isaac lifted his gaze. “I could guess, of course, but something tells me you’d prefer that I be direct. So you’ll have to tell me.”

  Romulus’s rich laughter warmed the room. “I love it. I suppose I still possess a few secrets, after all.” He leaned forward and gave Isaac a confidential smile. “I was born only five miles south of Jerusalem, Isaac Ben-David. In a little town, now Palestinian, called Bethlehem. We don’t generally publicize that bit of information—it might lead to unwanted conjecture about whether my loyalties lie with the Jews or with the Arabs. But the truth remains—I am a child of Jerusalem, bred and born in the Holy Land. And that is why Israel holds a special place in my heart.”

  Isaac smiled to cover his surprise. “I had no idea.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” Romulus paused to pull a package of cigarettes from an inner coat pocket, then tapped one from the wrapper. “In medieval times, Jerusalem was thought to be the center of the world and in many ways, it truly is. The splendid City of David, the settlement on a hill, must shine again for the world to see. Why not reestablish Jerusalem as the center of the world’s culture and worship? From her unblemished walls the rest of the world can draw inspiration and hope. They will see how the city whose gutters have literally flowed with blood through the ages can now shine with glory. They will witness the wonders we shall work in Jerusalem, the City of Peace, and the people of this planet will begin to rebuild their own shattered dreams. And, working together, we shall establish a peace unlike anything the world has ever known.”

  A flicker of a smile rose at the edges of his mouth as he lit his cigarette. “Did you know that Jerusalem’s original name, Salem, means peace? It is appropriate that we begin our work in your city, Major. And it is appropriate that you serve as our liaison in this vital effort.”

  As he felt his reserve thaw, Isaac folded his hands and dared to speak freely. “I’ve heard that, of course. And if there was ever a time when peace can be accomplished, I believe that time is now. The Arabs are tired of fighting, and our people are ready to get on with their lives. We have spent ten months cleaning up the dead. Our people are ready to put death behind them and live.”

  Romulus looked at him with misty, wistful eyes. “I’m glad you agree with me, Major—may I call you Isaac? There is no need for formalities when we are alone . . . and I suspect we may be talking together often.” He looked away, his eyes gleaming black in the firelight. “I am grateful you have come to work with us, Isaac Ben-David. I know about your mother. I know that after her death, your father poured himself into his work, neglecting the son he ought to have loved more than anything on earth. I know about your Sarah, and I know about the tragic loss of Binyamin, your son.” His brow wrinkled, and something moved in his eyes as he turned to meet Isaac’s gaze. “I know that you have longed for peace, and that longing has brought you to us. And so I welcome you, Isaac. And I promise to do everything possible to make certain you find the peace you are seeking. I know you can find it here . . . with me.”

  Isaac felt his breath being suddenly whipped away. He ought to have known that Romulus would have good intelligence, but how could he know so much about Isaac’s personal life? For a moment, he felt as though Romulus had lifted the curtain shielding Isaac’s wounded soul and looked at the heart within.

  “I . . .” Isaac faltered, unable to find the words. He was here for the IDF, for Israel, but it was hard to remain aloof from Ro
mulus’s piercing eyes. “I will do my best to fulfill my mission here,” he finally said. “If you have need of anything, you have but to ask for my help.”

  “I know I can count on you.” Romulus drew deeply on his cigarette, then exhaled twin streamers through his nostrils. “We shall do great things in Israel, you and I. Together we shall pave the way to peace, and when we are done, every voice in the Middle East will rejoice and say that the City of Peace is once more the center of the world.”

  Romulus put his cigarette in an ashtray to smolder, then rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and brought his hands together, fingertip to fingertip. “Our first task shall be the implementation of the international identity chip. The Europeans and Americans have successfully used it for months, and the Middle East and Africa must be enrolled in the program as well. Israel, particularly, must implement the identification program and become assimilated into the Universal Network. We simply cannot secure a sensitive area like the Temple Mount without the proper identification of each individual involved in the work. You understand this, of course.”

  Fascinated by Romulus’s dark eyes, Isaac nodded.

  “I’ll need you to present our case to the prime minister. I have spoken to him already; he understands the need for a technological approach to security. He was concerned, however, about reluctance among military personnel and the religious leaders.”

  He paused, letting the silence stretch, and Isaac hurried to fill it. “The Israeli military is one of the most technologically sophisticated armies in the world. Our people understand the need for surveillance technology. I don’t think you’ll have any problem with the military. On the other hand, the religious leadership—” His mouth curved in a mirthless smile. “Well, problems are a natural consequence of dealing with those people. Some of the more extreme Orthodox sects have steadfastly refused to even acknowledge the government of Israel as legitimate representatives of the Jewish people. They are waiting for the Messiah to rule the country.”

  With a slow, secret smile, Romulus nodded. “May their wait soon be over.” He lowered his forehead until it touched his uplifted fingertips, then closed his eyes. Isaac watched, perplexed, until Elijah Reis stepped into the room. With a soundless gesture, he beckoned to Isaac, calling him away. When the Israeli had gone, Romulus opened his eyes, then pressed a button on the pager in his pocket. Within seconds, Adam Archer appeared at his side.

  “Set up coverage on Ben-David’s house in Jerusalem—and the Paris bed-and-breakfast,” Romulus said, returning his gaze to the fireplace. “I want to know everything about the man.”

  Archer sat in the chair Ben-David had just vacated. The flickering firelight revealed the crimson spider webs of broken capillaries that netted his jowls. “So this man suits you?”

  “He’s reachable.” Romulus gave the general a cynical smile. “He’s not totally on board, but I didn’t expect instant allegiance. Naturally, his first loyalties will lie with his people . . . until we become his people. Then he should suit our purposes nicely.”

  Romulus turned from the distressing sight of the general’s florid face and stared into the fire. How lovely the flames, how warm the color! Almost as bright as Ben-David’s cheeks when he heard Romulus speak of the secret things on his heart.

  He lifted a finger as another idea occurred to him. “Write the IDF headquarters and congratulate them on sending such a well-qualified officer. Ask that Ben-David’s assignment be extended indefinitely.”

  “I’ll see to it.”

  “And make certain that we receive the information from his home as soon as possible. Nadim has shown me a great deal, but I want to know more. I want to know everything.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Archer stood and moved out of the room. Romulus closed his eyes, allowing himself to slip into the mental image of the elevator that lifted him away from his study, away from his chateau, away from the barren and thirsty landscape. When he had entered the realm of light, Nadim came to him.

  His face was like a patch of sun-hardened earth, seamed with deep-cut lines—a tangle of violent passions and irregular habits, but his eyes glittered with mischief and inspiration. “You met Isaac Ben-David?”

  It was not a question, for Nadim saw everything that transpired in Romulus’s home.

  “I did. The information you provided was . . . most effective.”

  “He was impressed, then.”

  “Astounded would be a better word. I have a feeling he will serve us well.”

  Nadim showed his dazzling teeth in an expression that was not a smile. “We shall see, Adrian. Very soon, we shall know for certain.”

  NINE

  AS THE KNOT OF ROWDY YOUTHS MOVED DOWN THE narrow aisle of the bus, Sarah drew her shopping bag closer to her chest and tried to act invisible. The boys had boarded a full five minutes before and had been taking their time finding seats, preferring to harass other passengers as they made their way toward the back of the vehicle. The driver, who should have refused to pull out as long as they remained standing, steadfastly refused to look in his mirror, though he had to hear the commotion caused by the obnoxious teens.

  In her peripheral vision, she saw one of them pause in the aisle next to her. “Hey, pretty lady.” Sarah kept her gaze turned toward the window, ignoring the boy who leaned into the empty seat at her left. His adolescent voice filled with intensity. “What’s in the bag, pretty woman?”

  “Something smells good.” Another boy moved into the seat directly behind her. She studied his reflection in the window as he leaned over her shoulder. “What is that delicious smell? Is that your dinner? No, it’s too sweet. It must be you.”

  “If I were you,” Sarah said, keeping her gaze upon the reflection in the glass, “I’d back away and go find a seat.”

  “Oh, the lady’s a tough one.” The boy at her left sat down and edged closer while his friends crowed in delight. “Come on, baby, show me what you’re holding there. Show me so we can get to know each other a little better.”

  Drawing a slow and steady breath, Sarah turned and met the boy’s gaze. Part of her brain registered surprise—he couldn’t have been more than fourteen, fifteen at the most. He wasn’t old enough to even qualify for a driver’s license.

  “Young man,” she said, spacing her words evenly as she looked him directly in the eye, “I suggest that you move away and take your friends with you. There are empty seats at the back of the bus.”

  “Oh, baby!” His boyish face crumpled in pretended hurt. “Why would you want to break my heart?” He clasped his hands upon his chest for an instant, then leaned toward her, his lips only inches from her ear. “Come on, baby, I know you’re dying to go to the back of the bus with me.”

  “Really?” Slowly, carefully, she eased her free hand into the space between the shopping bag and her jacket. While continuing to hold the boy’s gaze, she found the smooth handle of her Beretta 92F pistol, then pulled it from the shoulder holster she wore beneath her coat.

  “Young man.” She deliberately lowered her voice until he leaned closer. “So far you’ve been nothing but obnoxious and crude. If you touch me, however, or say one more word, I will be forced to take action.” She nudged the gun forward and lightly grazed the front of the boy’s shirt. “So unless you want to find out just how annoyed I have to be to use this, I suggest you back off. Quietly walk away, and take your friends along for the ride.”

  The boy’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth opened, then he pulled away. For an instant he stared at her, anger and fear warring in his eyes, then he jerked himself upright and sauntered down the aisle toward the rear of the bus.

  Sarah put the Beretta back into the dark space between her bag and her chest, then stiffened as the bus pulled over for the next stop. If the troublemakers were going to make a move, they might act now . . . but the gang poured off the bus, leaving a stream of curses in their wake.

  As the bus pulled away, Sarah looked down and saw the leader flick an o
bscene gesture in her direction. Lifting her chin, she eyed him with cold defiance. Punks like that understood nothing else.

  Ten minutes later, bone tired and hungry, she stepped off the bus and crossed the sidewalk to her own front door. The neighborhood seemed quiet and sleepy, but she knew her older neighbors were afraid to venture out in the late afternoon. Each day the papers were filled with reports of a growing epidemic of vandalism and gang activity in what used to be quiet neighborhoods, and most older people tended to do their shopping in the morning, when schools were in session and young people were properly incarcerated.

  She glanced toward the garage where the car sat, unused. She hated driving in the city and had come to depend upon Isaac’s easygoing attitude behind the wheel. Since he had gone, she had taken to riding the bus. Incidents like the one she’d just experienced were trivial compared to what could happen to a woman alone on a deserted stretch of road.

  Though she and Isaac had drifted apart in the last few months, she felt his absence keenly. He had been gone for little more than a week, but the passing of these silent days reminded her of how empty the house could be with no husband and no child . . .

  She shifted the shopping bag to her left arm and fumbled for her keys in her purse, then unlocked the front door. And froze.

  Her neat, tidy home had been violated. An overturned vase lay on the tile beside the door; stuffing from the sofa littered the living room carpet like bits of misplaced clouds. The drawers of her antique secretary had been overturned and emptied on the floor, and shards of blue glass from her favorite goblets sparkled in the light from the dining room lamp . . .

  She dropped her shopping bag and withdrew her pistol. Holding the weapon in both hands, she swept the room in an arc and peered around the corner, straining to hear any sound that might indicate that the intruder remained in the house.