Rebecca shot Lopez a sympathetic look. The corporal shrugged at her. "Show off."
It had been a while since she'd been called pretty. Granted it was by an unbathed, harmless old man. And you know what? Rebecca was going to take it. She carefully moved the current issue of Yivo, the Institute for Jewish Research's journal, as Osip busied himself in the tiny kitchenette. Drawers were pulled out, lids slammed down in the most contorted coffee-making session in history. However, it did seem like it was about to be successful as the pungent odor of Russian coffee beat across the room.
Which was not necessarily a good thing. Sure the stuff came from coffee beans, but the thick liquid was more of what was found on the bottom of the pot. The stuff that required stainless steel pads to remove. Worse, Osip scooped in some cream. Which had been left out on the counter for exactly how long?
Forget getting shot out of a submarine. This might kill her. Yet when the old man turned around, Rebecca smiled encouragingly. At least they seemed to have gotten over their brusque entrance. Perhaps now Osip would feel comfortable enough to tell her exactly why Amed had sought him out.
As Osip shuffled across the short space between the kitchenette and the table, a dog barked down the street. She could feel Lopez tense. The corporal opened the door, checking down the hallway. He paused there for a moment and then gently closed the door. He gave a thumbs-up. Everything was fine.
Well, Brandt was still missing, so not exactly fine. And where was he? If Brandt and Davidson had simply been misplaced, shouldn't they be here by now?
"Excuse?" Osip asked.
Rebecca shoved thoughts of Brandt aside as she moved her hand out of the way for Osip to place the coffee cup down in front of her. Coffee-steeped steam wafted up. She tried not to let her grimace show. Rebecca used the small tarnished silver spoon to stir the drink, hoping she could delay taking a sip as long as possible.
"What did Amed want?" Rebecca asked as Osip set his own cup down with shaky hands.
"He found something," Osip explained as he sagged into his chair. "He found it during an excavation."
Rebecca doubted very much that Amed had excavated anything for scholarly purposes. More than likely the terrorist had been digging to provide a home for his new bioweapon.
"It was only later," Osip said, "after he left, that I discovered he was a terrorist."
There was something in the way his eyes refused to meet hers that made Rebecca question the veracity of that statement. She didn't need to be trained in interrogation techniques to know the old man was lying. Well, maybe not full-on lying but definitely holding something back.
"What was the item Amed found?" she asked, then blew on her coffee hoping Osip didn't notice her lack of interest in the drink. The Russians took national pride to pretty extreme reaches, including their homegrown coffee.
"A block of stone." Osip set down his cup after a long drink and made the size of about a playing card with his fingers. "About so big. It was inscribed with ancient Hebrew. Amed wished me to translate."
Rebecca waited for Osip to continue, yet he just kept drinking that damned cup of joe. "And?" she prompted, not wanting to push him but also anxious to find out what would drive Amed to reach out to a Jew.
"The stone's inscription," Rebecca asked. "Do you remember it?"
"Da," Osip said, lazily stirring his coffee. "There were only fragments of passages."
"And those would be?" Rebecca asked as she tried to take a sip herself.
"Herein lies the Asereth ha-D'bharim."
Rebecca nearly spit the coffee out. Not because of the taste but for the words that came out of the old man's mouth.
"Asereth ha-D'bharim?" Rebecca repeated, sure that she had heard incorrectly.
"Da," Osip said. "As you Americans call it...the Ten Commandments."
CHAPTER 8.
Pushchino, Russia 2:19 p.m. GMT Davidson laid into the turn. His scarred fingers screamed from the abuse. The tendons were so tightly contracted around the motorcycle's handles that Davidson honestly wasn't sure if he could remove his hand from the bars, but he also didn't care. The wind whipped through his hair, snapping above his ears. Russia had a decidedly more lenient helmet law than America.
Righting the bike after the expressway exit, Davidson let off the gas. They had to slow as they entered Pushchino. Seldom were the back roads patrolled by Russian police. The town near the country's largest bioweapons manufacturing plant, however? Those were well patrolled. Otherwise there was no way Brandt would have slowed.
They were both worried for Rebecca. Each for their own reasons.
He worried that he did not tell Rebecca everything he knew about Osip. Of course he'd thought that he would have an hour on the train to discuss the historian. Davidson's eyes slid over to Brandt. If anything came to pass with Rebecca and the sergeant found out that Davidson had not fully divulged what he knew? Davidson did not walk that thought forward as they turned left, heading for the far side of town.
Probably best just to make sure nothing came to pass with Rebecca.
They were only five minutes out.
Make that four as Brandt accelerated in front of him, his bike spitting out smoke as the sergeant pushed the engine again.
Guess they would take their chances getting stopped for speeding.
Davidson didn't blame the sergeant. Something felt wrong. The kind of wrong you felt right before bullets started flying. He hoped his gut was wrong, out of tune after being absent from action for so long.
But he doubted it.
"If you did not like coffee you could just have said," Osip said as Rebecca hurried to clean up the coffee she had spilled all over the table.
Lopez dabbed an already dirty dishcloth on the books.
"When you said Ten Commandments," Rebecca asked slowly as she wiped, "did you mean the Ten Commandments?"
"Da," Osip stated matter-of-factly as he moved his Yivo journal out of the way.
Rebecca stifled an urge to shake the old man. You didn't just announce the fact that you had a piece of the Ten Commandments and then go on with your day as usual. If Osip was going to act so casually, she would as well.
"Did Amed say where he found the tablet?"
"Probably Stephen Spielberg's backyard?" Lopez interjected.
She elbowed the corporal as Osip frowned.
"If you speak of the Ark of the Covenant, young man," Osip stated, "that particular box held the second set of commandments."
Lopez shot an eyebrow at Rebecca. "Second set?"
"Correct," she confirmed. "The Bible is very clear that the first set was broken by Moses. Another, second set was created as a replacement to seal the covenant of God and eventually put into the ark. What happened to the first, broken set isn't mentioned."
Almost on purpose, Rebecca realized. Given that her mentor Lochum had been obsessed with the crucifixion saga, they really hadn't dissected out the Old Testament as deeply as they had the New. Perhaps that had been a myopic mistake.
"So what's to say that fragment wasn't just an Indiana Jones gift shop knockoff?" Lopez asked.
Osip stopped wiping the table. "Amed did his homework. He had the fragment isotope tested." Osip's voice shook. "I did my homework. The piece verified back to 1400 BCE."
"Lopez," Rebecca urged. "Why don't you get the door?"
The corporal shrugged as he moved off. "No worries."
In silence, Rebecca helped Osip straighten the table. The old man seemed to be comforted by the action. The red in his cheeks subsided. His nose though stayed a bright red. The red of a long-term alcoholic. Rebecca should know. That nose could have belonged to her father. It seemed that Osip might have added a bit of something else besides cream in his cup. Could she judge him though? He had been ostracized from all that he loved. Left in this dingy apartment to fade away into obscurity.
Osip sighed. "I know it is hard to believe."
Actually? After everything she'd seen? The Ten Commandments were not out of the ballpark.
"I get you more," Osip said, picking up her coffee cup.
"No, it's okay," she answered as she grabbed the cup handle. As the old man's face clouded over she rushed on. "It's just a little strong."
"Ah, Americans," Osip groused. "I will get sugar."
Rebecca hated to tell him that no amount of sweetener in the world was going to make that cup drinkable, but she didn't stop him from going back to the kitchenette. He brought back a sad, grimy bag of sugar and set it on the table. He had to use a knife to cut out a chunk and put it in her cup.
"Thanks," she said as he moved behind her.
"Let me close these," Osip suggested, moving to the window. "The light hurts my eyes."
As he fiddled with the curtains, Rebecca's mind turned over the facts in front of her. Where had Amed gotten the stone carbon dated? Better yet, where had Amed found the fragment? And what did he care? Even if it were the true stone the Ten Commandments were written upon, what use did Amed have with it?
She went to ask Osip exactly those questions when he turned sharply toward her. Rebecca thought he'd stumbled and reached out to catch him when Osip jerked her to her feet, placing the knife against her neck.
"What the-" Lopez said, raising his weapon. "Let her go, old man."
Rebecca squirmed only to have the blade bite into her flesh.
"You think to steal this from me?" Osip hissed into her ear. "You think to steal the glory of God?"
Careful not to move too much, Rebecca whispered, "I don't want to steal anything, Osip."
"I will drop you," Lopez warned the old man as he took a step forward.
"Just because you outwitted the Knot, the infants, the arrogant babes, you think that you can take the Disciples of Moshe?"
Disciples of Moshe? What in the hell was he talking about?
"Osip, I don't want to take on anyone or steal-"
The blade bit into her neck. She could feel a dribble of blood down her skin.
"What's your exit plan, old man?" Lopez demanded. "Let her go and we can talk."
That only seemed to inflame Osip more as his fingers dug into her arm. "Do you think I care what happens if I am not allowed to hold the word of God?"
"Osip's right," Rebecca said, begging Lopez to back down. The old man was clearly demented. Paranoid. "Osip," she spoke gently. "We only want to know where Amed hid the Rinderpest. We can work together." As his grip loosened slightly on her arm, Rebecca continued. "We find the Rinderpest virus and you get the tablets."
"Do not try to trick me," Osip hissed. "No one would give up such a piece of history."
"Trust me," Rebecca sighed. "I am the last person who wants to hoard a religious treasure."
"What need I have of you?" Osip asked, although his tone wavered.
Rebecca gulped, dragging the knife against her neck. "Amed came to you how long ago, Osip? A week? Ten days?" The old man didn't answer, yet she had her answer. "And you have stayed here with your books and your articles." As Lopez moved to the side apparently to get a better shot, Rebecca continued. "We can get you out of the country. We can take you to the tablets."
While his fingers didn't let go of her arm, he also didn't restrain her. The blade moved away from her neck. Okay maybe it was just an inch, but he was having second thoughts. She could feel the struggle within him.
But there was a window to be reasoned within. Just a few more moments and- Osip screamed as glass shattered. Blood sprayed across her face. It wasn't her blood, but his. The old man pitched over, held up only by her arms.
"Lopez!" she cried. "Why did you shoot?"
The corporal ran forward, tugging her down. "I didn't."
Another pop as more glass shattered. Rebecca didn't fight Lopez dragging her down to the floor. The curtains fluttered open to reveal the tree line at the end of the wide greenbelt. Someone was shooting from outside. Not someone. Some sniper.
Aunush jerked the binoculars from her eyes. She could not have just seen what she had seen. Osip could not have been holding the researcher by a knife. It couldn't be.
Blinking twice she tried to wipe the sight from her eyes. But no matter how hard she tried to wish away the facts they were the events. Her carefully crafted plan smashed beyond recognition.
Looking up amongst the foliage, Aunush sought her sniper's eyes. Even camouflaged in dappled green, bracing himself against three branches, she could still make out his bright blue eyes. Their slight dilation confirmed her worst fear.
Damn the old man. Aunush could have easily justified killing the traitor after he had withheld vital information to the Disciples and then was about to divulge their greatest secret to the enemy.
But now? Killing Osip when he was defending the honor of the Disciples? That would not be understood in certain circles. Circles that would have her and the sniper killed.
He looked to her, his eyebrow rising a millimeter. His orders?
There was no putting the bullets back into rifle. Osip was gone. And her team was already on the move to breach the apartment. The only upside to the situation was the fact that the only people who knew the circumstances of Osip's death were her, the sniper, and the enemies. However, who knew how many of her team would interface with the enemy. Who knew what words would be exchanged?
Knowing the sniper would read her lips, she carefully spoke the words...Kill them.
All of them.
With a curt nod, the sniper went back to his rifle. A shot sounded, then another. They must crush the enemy and then silence the rest of their team.
No one could know how Osip had died.
How the master's father had died.