Steve Berry - The Alexandria Link

“Get real, Stephanie. The problem with the Middle East is the left hand never knows what the right is doing. What happened is typical. Palestinian militants just chose the wrong café.”

“Or maybe not,” Green said. “Perhaps the Israelis or the Saudis chose the right one?”

Daley smiled. “You’re getting good at this. That’s exactly why we agreed to Haddad’s terms.”

“So tell us why it’s necessary for the American government to find the lost Library of Alexandria?”

Daley applauded softly. “Bravo. Well done, Brent. I figured if your sources knew about Haddad, they’d deliver that tidbit, too.”

“Answer his question,” Stephanie said.

“Important stuff is sometimes kept in the strangest places.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s all you’re going to get.”

“You’re in league with whatever is happening over there,” she declared.

“No, I’m not. But I won’t deny there are others within the administration who are interested in using this as the quickest route to solving a problem.”

“The problem being?” Green asked.

“Israel. Bunch of arrogant idealists who won’t listen to a word anybody says. Yet at the drop of a hat they’ll send tanks or gunships to annihilate anyone and anything, all in the name of security. What happened a few months ago? They started shelling the Gaza Strip, one of their shells goes astray, and an entire family having a picnic on the beach is killed. What do they say? Sorry. Too bad.” Daley shook his head. “Just show a shred of flexibility, an ounce of compromise, and things could be achieved. No. It’s their way or no way.”

Stephanie knew that, of late, the Arab world had been far more accommodating than Israel-surely a result of Iraq, where American resolve was demonstrated firsthand. Worldwide sympathy for the Palestinians had steadily grown, fed by a change of leadership, a moderation in militant policies, and the foolishness of Israeli hard-liners. She recalled from the news reports the lone survivor of that family on the beach, a young girl, wailing at the sight of her dead father. Powerful. But she wondered what realistically could be done. “How do they plan to do anything about Israel?” Then the answer came to her. “You need the link to do that?”

Daley said nothing.

“Malone is the only one who knows where it is,” she made clear.

“A problem. But not insurmountable.”

“You wanted Malone to act. You just didn’t know how to get him to do it.”

“I won’t deny that this is something of an opportunity.”

“You son of a bitch,” she spat out.

“Look, Stephanie. Haddad wanted to disappear. He trusted Malone. The Israelis, the Saudis, and even the Palestinians all thought Haddad died in the blast. So we did what the man wanted, then backed off the whole idea, moved on to other things. But now everyone’s interest is piqued again and we want Haddad.”

She wasn’t going to allow him any satisfaction. “And what about whoever else may be after him?”

“I’ll handle them as any politician would.”

Green’s countenance darkened with anger. “You’re going to make a deal?”

“It’s the way of the world.”

She had to learn more. “What could possibly be found in two-thousand-year-old documents? And that’s assuming the manuscripts survived, which is unlikely.”

Daley cast her a sideways glance. She realized that he’d come to keep her and Green from interfering-so maybe he’d throw them a bone.

“The Septuagint.”

She found it hard to conceal her puzzlement.

“I’m no expert,” Daley said, “but from what I’ve been told, a couple of hundred years before Christ, scholars at the Library of Alexandria translated the Hebrew Scriptures, our Old Testament, into Greek. A big deal for the day. That translation is all we know of the original Hebrew text, since it’s gone. Haddad claimed that the translation, and all the others that followed, were fundamentally flawed. He said the errors changed everything, and he could prove it.”

“So what?” she asked. “How would that change anything?”

“That, I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“In this instance, they’re the same thing.”

“He has remembered His covenant forever,” Green whispered, “the word which He commanded to a thousand generations, the covenant which He made with Abraham, and His oath to Isaac. Then He confirmed it to Jacob for a statute, to Israel as an everlasting covenant, saying, ”To you I will give the land of Canaan as the portion of your inheritance.“”

She saw that the words genuinely moved the man.

“An important promise,” Green said. “One of many in the Old Testament.”

“So you see our interest?”

Green nodded. “I see the point, but I question its ability to be proven.”

She didn’t grasp that, either, but wanted to know, “What are you doing, Larry? Chasing phantoms? This is crazy.”

“I assure you, it’s not.”

The implications quickly became real. Malone had been right to chastise her. She should have immediately told him about the breach. And now his son was in jeopardy, thanks to the U.S. government, which apparently was willing to sacrifice the boy.

“Stephanie,” Daley said, “I know that look. What are you planning?”

No way she was telling this demon anything. So she drank the dregs of humiliation, smiled, and said, “Precisely what you want, Larry. Absolutely nothing.”

COPENHAGEN

12:15 PM

DOMINICK SABRE KNEW THAT THE NEXT HOUR WOULD BE critical. He’d already watched on the Copenhagen television stations as the shooting at Kronborg Slot was reported. Which meant Malone and his ex-wife were now on the move. He’d finally heard from the man he’d dispatched to the castle and was glad he’d followed orders.

He checked his watch, then stepped from the front parlor to the back bedroom where Gary Malone was being held. They’d managed to take the boy at school, using official credentials and tough talk, all supposedly in the name of the U.S. government. Within two hours they’d left Atlanta on a charter flight. Pam Malone was approached while they were en route and told precisely what to do. All reports painted her as a difficult woman, but a photo and thoughts of harm coming to her son had ensured that she’d do exactly what they wanted.

He opened the bedroom door and crafted a smile on his face. “Wanted to let you know that we heard from your dad.”

The boy was perched by the window reading a book. Yesterday he’d asked for several volumes, which Sabre had obtained. The young face brightened at the news about his father. “He okay?”

“Doing fine. And he was grateful we had you with us. Your mom is with him, too.”

“Mom is here?”

“Another team brought her over.”

“That’s a first. She’s never been here.” The boy paused. “Her and my dad don’t get along.”

Knowing about Malone’s marital history, he sensed something. “Why’s that?”

“Divorce. They haven’t lived together in a long time.”

“That hard on you?”

Gary seemed to consider the inquiry. He was tall for his age, lanky, with a head of auburn hair. Cotton Malone was a study in contrast. Fair-skinned, thick-limbed, light-haired. Try as he might, Sabre could find nothing of the father in the boy’s face or countenance.

“It’d be better if they were together. But I understand why they’re not.”

“Good you understand. You have a level head.”

Gary smiled. “That’s what my dad always says. You know him?”

“Oh, yes. We’ve worked together for years.”

“What’s happening here? Why am I in danger?”