Serpent of Moses

28



Jack huddled behind a tree, blood streaming from his nose, fighting to keep from passing out from the blow delivered by the Egyptian. From his position he surveyed the field, tried to see where everyone had wound up after the gunplay. The only person he saw was Romero, who waved in Jack’s direction—a gesture the American returned.

Jack tried to process everything that had just happened. He’d lost Espy to the Egyptian and had no idea where he’d taken her, though he suspected they would not have gone far. His abduction of Espy seemed strange, because Jack was certain he would have been the man’s target.

Because he’d lost his bearings in the scramble, he took a moment now to consider where everyone had been standing, hopefully to provide him with a better understanding of the direction they’d all scattered to. He suspected the Libyans had retreated behind the temple, the only structure large enough to hide four men. Where Imolene and Espy could have gone, he didn’t know exactly, but he thought the copse of trees at almost ninety degrees from his own location was as good a spot as any.

That left Duckey, and he suspected his friend could remain unseen better than any of them. In fact, he was a bit concerned for what Duckey might do to the Libyans.

By the time Jack had a clearer picture of his surroundings, silence had reclaimed the ruins. Aside from Romero, he felt as if he were the only person around for miles. He gestured to Romero to get his attention, and the Venezuelan returned with a shrug of the shoulders.

Almost forgotten, the Nehushtan rested on the ground in front of the pillar. Despite the fact that Jack would have left the artifact in an instant if it meant securing the lives of his friends, he couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting to it. Earlier he’d suggested to Espy that the lure of discovery—the fulfillment that came from finding something extraordinary—was something that one, if not outgrew, at least learned to relegate to its proper place. At the time, what he’d told her had been the truth. Now, however, he recognized the stirrings of that thing inside him that superseded all else; it was something that lived by its own meter, lying dormant yet on occasion rushing to take control of him when he least expected it. While he’d carried the staff, priceless but incomplete, it had lacked much of the intangible quality that activated that covetous part of his soul. But with the promise of its wholeness within reach, he found it creeping in, ready to lay claim to his reason.

Twenty yards away from Jack, Romero hunkered behind a wall. He fired a fierce look in Jack’s direction, as if intuiting his friend’s thoughts.

Jack gave an acknowledging nod, even though Romero’s admonition did little to dampen his desire to go after the artifact. He had no time to act on that desire, though, because a thickly accented voice called out, “You will come out or we will kill all of you.” The words echoed amid the ruins. It was one of the Libyans.

Jack looked around, trying to determine where the voice had come from. He thought he’d been correct in placing them behind the temple of Isis. He didn’t respond, nor did any of the others. Then Jack caught sight of the angry expression on Romero’s face that suggested he was considering doing something foolish.

“You are heavily outgunned,” the Libyan went on. “Your only hope of surviving is to step out and throw down your weapons.” The conviction in his voice was such that Jack didn’t doubt the man’s willingness to make good on the threat.

“You’re speaking as if the rest of us are working together,” Jack finally called back. “Some of us aren’t really concerned with anyone else.”

Romero looked surprised by Jack’s words, but Jack quickly motioned for him to remain quiet.

There was a long pause as the men who’d hunted for Duckey in Africa talked it out among themselves. When they responded, Jack couldn’t fault their logic.

“Then I suggest that those of you who care for anyone else in the group—that you come out now. As for the rest, I’m sure we can come to some other arrangement.”

Jack wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Romero aimed a silent question in his direction; Jack answered with a shrug. If these men were indeed part of the Libyan intelligence establishment, that meant they were professionals. They would kill everyone in an instant if doing so would help them meet their objective. But Jack also understood that if he went out there, he would be sacrificing his life but with no guarantee of saving anyone.

As he opened his mouth to speak, his words were cut off by a gunshot. Before Jack could react, several more reports echoed off the rocks.

Fearing that his friends were in harm’s way, he took a single step before a frantic wave from Romero caught his attention. When he was certain he had Jack’s eye, Romero pointed toward the temple. Imolene was emerging from the structure with Espy firmly in his grasp.

“Where’s the staff?” Imolene shouted. He moved forward, pushing Espy in front of him. “If you do not turn over the artifact to me at once, I will kill this woman!” He raised his gun to Espy’s temple.

“Wait!” Jack walked out from behind the tree, his experience with Imolene assuring him that the Egyptian was within a second of ending Espy’s life. At the same moment, Romero burst into the open, ready to rush the man who held his sister.

“Where is it?” Imolene demanded.

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Once the shooting started, I dropped it.”

He made a pretense of looking around, surprised that Imolene couldn’t see it. But all the commotion had kicked up a great deal of dust.

“Then you will find it,” Imolene said.

“Listen, it’s around here somewhere. And when we find it, you can have it. Now let her go, and take me instead.”

Jack exchanged a look with Romero and saw that his friend had the same thought, except that while Jack was willing to trade his life for Espy’s, Romero appeared ready to charge the man. Which would force the Egyptian to turn his attention to Romero and in turn allow Espy to escape. Jack knew they were both poor plans, yet he felt they were running out of options.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Duckey step out from behind the freestanding wall, leading with his gun. And from where Imolene stood, he couldn’t see him.

Even as Duckey approached, though, Martin Templeton came out from the cover of the trees. Without hesitating, he walked up behind Imolene, raised a gun, and pulled the trigger.



For the first time since he’d met Templeton, Jack was convinced the man would shoot him if need be. His fevered expression revealed just how much he’d allowed his passion for the holy relic to consume him. His striking down Imolene had just confirmed the truth of that.

“I’m leaving with it, Jack,” Templeton said, breathing hard.

“How did you get here, Martin?” Jack pointed to Imolene’s lifeless body. “With him?”

The Englishman released a harsh laugh. “You abandon me to him and then you question why I might have joined him?”

“No one’s questioning anything,” Jack said, holding his hands up by his shoulders. He could see over Templeton’s shoulder; Duckey hadn’t budged.

Jack stepped forward and saw Templeton’s hand flinch. Very slowly he crossed to where he’d dropped the staff. He bent to retrieve it, all the while anticipating the shot. But after a second look at Templeton, and after using his head to gesture toward the bed sheet, he walked the few yards and gathered it up. He made his way back and then quickly and carefully wrapped the staff. When finished, he approached Templeton but stopped several feet away, placing the staff on the ground between them. He then retreated, backing up to where Espy and Romero waited. Without looking at her, Jack reached for Espy’s hand.

Templeton watched the trio for several seconds, and during that time Jack saw the sane part of the man begin to surface, although only for a moment—until desire swallowed it up again. With the gun still trained on them, the Englishman stepped up to the staff and lifted it from the ground. Once he had it in his possession, he held it aloft.

As he did so, Jack felt a sick feeling building in his stomach. The look Templeton aimed at the staff was almost frightening in its intensity. It lasted only a short while before he lowered the artifact and turned his attention to Jack, who wondered why Duckey hadn’t made his move yet.

“I want to know what happened to my brother,” Templeton said.

It was in that moment Jack understood that none of this was about the staff. Templeton was fixated on the artifact but only as a substitute for something else—something he considered more valuable.

He wanted answers.

“What happened in Australia is between me and God,” Jack said, realizing how absurd that sounded but knowing that few people in the world had as tangible an example as he. He gave Espy’s hand a squeeze and then slipped away from her, getting her and Romero out of the line of fire. “You have what you came here for,” he said. “You’re walking away with a once-in-a-lifetime find. Isn’t that enough, Martin?”

“Normally, yes,” he said. “But not today.”

“Tell him, Jack,” Espy said quietly.

He and Espy—and the few friends who knew—had made a pact to keep the events of those days to themselves. But Jack was no martyr; he wouldn’t take the secret to his grave. He knew as well that Templeton wouldn’t fall for a lie. He wouldn’t even ask why the man needed to know. When Jack had lost his own brother, when an accident in a dig in Egypt had killed him, Jack would have given anything to have answers for all his questions. Only now, many years later, did he know that the kinds of answers Martin was seeking would be of no help. He also knew that Templeton would not come to that place for a long while.

He began recounting for Templeton how he’d come to kill the Englishman’s brother.

Yet as he was speaking, Imolene stirred behind Templeton—the twitch of a hand at first, then a fluttering of the eyes. Jack didn’t notice until Imolene raised his hand and by then it was too late.

Templeton staggered beneath the force of the shot. Even then, Jack didn’t think the man comprehended what had just happened. It wasn’t until his legs began to give out, causing him to sink to the ground, that understanding seemed to dawn.

Then Jack heard a second shot that sounded as if it came from much farther away—the high whine of a sniper rifle.

The bullet found its target in Imolene’s neck, and the Egyptian’s eyes closed for the last time.

Startled, Jack glanced around for the sniper, but no one was visible beyond Romero, Duckey, and Espy. Jack rushed to Templeton, helping him to ease down. He removed the gun from the man’s hand and tossed it away.

Romero meanwhile moved to Imolene’s body, reached down and extricated the gun from the large Egyptian’s hand.

Looking down at Templeton, Jack saw the man’s mouth move but no words came out.

“Don’t try to talk,” he said.

Espy came to Templeton’s side, her hand going to the man’s wrist. “His pulse is weak.” She took Templeton’s hand, holding it between both of her own.

Jack nodded as he considered what to do. Seeing the blood that had already pooled beneath the Englishman, he knew there was little that could be done.

A small smile touched Templeton’s lips and he turned his head toward Jack, trying to speak again, but Jack couldn’t make out what he was trying to say. It was only on the third attempt that he understood the man was asking to hold the staff one last time.

Rising, Jack went to retrieve it. He returned to Templeton and placed the serpent staff in his hands. He thought that the Englishman released a sigh, but he couldn’t be certain. As Jack watched, Templeton used his remaining strength to shift the position of the staff until he was looking directly into the serpent’s face. He seemed content as he stared into its eyes—an unblinking stare that made it look as if an invisible line had been drawn taut between snake and man.

Jack couldn’t recall when he first noticed the ruby on the snake’s tail begin to glow, but by the time he noticed he suspected it had been growing brighter for some time. Espy saw it too, her eyes widening, and the two of them—who had, together, experienced the full revelation of God’s power in the most tangible of ways—watched as that same power was poured out over Martin Templeton. The ruby continued to brighten, and along with it Jack began to hear a buzzing noise that seemed to come from within the staff itself.

Romero had drawn closer, along with Duckey, who was limping. There was a trail of blood running down his pant leg.

When the buzzing sound reached a crescendo, the air around Templeton grew brighter. Jack wasn’t sure if it was a result of the ruby that now was almost white, or if something else was at work. And then just as it had occurred, it disappeared with an equal abruptness. One moment the staff was glowing and buzzing, and in the next it was as if someone had flipped a switch.

Jack hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until the need for air impressed itself upon him. As he began to breathe again, he saw Templeton’s eyelids flutter.

Jack rose and left him to his private moment, corralling Romero and Duckey as he moved away. Although his friends followed him, they couldn’t help looking behind them, as if trying to process what they’d just seen. Jack couldn’t blame them; it had taken him a long time to deal with it the first time too.

After putting what he thought was sufficient distance between themselves and Templeton, who was still in Espy’s care, Jack turned back to take in the scene. Which was why he was the first one to see the men who emerged from the tree line, advancing on the group.

Duckey saw them next, and Jack took his cues from the expert, who didn’t move or raise his gun.

The black-clad men paused when they reached Templeton and Espy. Jack, despite a hiss from Duckey, started toward them. He saw a single gun shifted in his direction, but he kept his hands out and stayed on course. Reaching Espy—who was still on her knees, looking up at the apparitions who’d materialized as if out of nowhere—Jack took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. Once she was at his side, he turned to the Israelis.

“It’s yours,” he said. “Both pieces.”

One of the Israelis shifted his gun to his other hand and then bent down to take the staff. When he straightened, he brought it close to his face, and Jack saw him looking at the now-dormant ruby in the tail.

Less than a minute later, the Israelis were gone, which Jack suspected was their silent way of fulfilling their part of the bargain.



In the aftermath of the events at Cyme, all those involved resolved to keep their silence. At first, Jack had struggled with the decision, understanding that with spilling the blood of several men in a country not one’s own, there existed a certain obligation to disclose the matter to the local authorities. But if past experience had taught him anything, it was that turning himself over to a potentially unsympathetic police force was not a thing readily done. Had extraordinary circumstances not served to spring Jack and Espy from their incarceration in Australia, they could both still be languishing in prison cells.

Consequently, while they waited at the hospital for Duckey, who was having the Libyan’s bullet removed from his leg, they’d agreed to a blanket silence. Of course that silence had been tested when the police showed up at the hospital after having been called by the treating physician. They’d explained the incident away, though, and finally the police had left, if somewhat dissatisfied.

There were still some details to be worked out. Among them was how to get Duckey back to the States without a passport. Jack hoped that Duckey’s CIA friends could spring for one last favor. If not, they’d have to work something out themselves.

Duckey had been in surgery half an hour when Espy—who’d been pacing the waiting room nonstop—finally came and sat in the chair next to Jack.

“It must have killed you to let them take it,” she said.

Jack shook his head. “Not as much as you might think.”

“But it was worth an absolute fortune,” she reminded him.

“Point taken.” Then, after giving it more thought, he added, “In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that important.”

“You can’t be serious. You let a priceless biblical artifact get away and you don’t think it’s a big deal?”

Jack shrugged and leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. “You’ve seen one holy relic, you’ve seen them all.”

Espy opened her mouth but nothing came out. Then after seeing Jack aim a mischievous smile at her, she couldn’t help but mirror it.

Which Jack liked because he didn’t want to think too much about it. Despite his seeming indifference, it had been difficult to watch the staff walk off with someone else. But he remembered the feeling that had come over him in the ruins: the desire, the need that had made him want to run out and reclaim the Nehushtan. What had washed over him seemed to invalidate everything he’d told Espy on the way—that there were things more valuable than priceless artifacts. It was something he’d have to continue to ponder, perhaps for a long while.

Whether Espy could follow his progression of thought or not, she didn’t pursue it and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence, one that Espy broke some minutes later.

“Do you think they’ll misuse it?”

Jack sighed. He’d asked himself the same question.

“I think there are things that were meant to serve whatever purposes God wanted them to serve. And if they disappear after serving that purpose, who are we to make that call?” he said, not even sure he meant it. All he knew for sure was that when he’d handed over the staff, exchanging it for something much more valuable, it had felt right.

That line of thinking prompted him to think about something else that felt right. In truth, it had felt right for a long time. Reaching over the armrest, he took Espy’s hand in his.

“I love you too,” she said before he could say a word.

“I’ll see you in Istanbul,” he said, which meant the same thing.