The Aleppo Code (The Jerusalem Prophecies) (41 page)

Babylon turned into freakish, swimming green goo when Whalen powered up his night-vision goggles. He was lying flat on a low rooftop, scanning the streets, alleys, and walls he could see. Solid walls appeared to waver as he moved his head. But nothing else moved. He looked down and gave Atkins a thumbs-down signal, then turned his goggles back to Procession Street. Looking west he noticed the green goo move. A body scrambled on top of, and over, a ragged wall in the distance.

He dropped silently to the ground. “Forty yards west. Looked like Rizzo.”

“How do you know it’s him?” Rizzo whispered.

They stood close together in the space between the two sections of amphitheater seats, Procession Street to their backs. The alcove between the seats was a little less than three feet wide and about four feet deep … about half the depth of the amphitheater. Rizzo pressed close to gaze up at the carved image. The face was a silhouette, looking to the right, carved into a square section of stone placed within the clay bricks of the wall between the seating sections. The cameo itself was fashioned within a concave circle inside the square. Rizzo stretched to run his fingers over the stone, similar to the stone of the Lion of Babylon. This image was meant to last. “This could be like Babylonian graffiti. They didn’t have any spray paint back then.”

“Give it a rest, Rizzo.”

“No, really. We don’t know what’s in the rest of these stadia along Procession Street.” He moved out of the way so Annie, then Tom, could get a closer look at the image. “Maybe they’ve got these cameo appearances all along the way, like a walk of fame. Unless we’re sure we traveled the right distance since the Ishtar Gate, how can we be sure whose mug it is looking back at us? Could be Daniel. Could be Mo Linskey for all we know.”

“We’re directly across the street from the palace,” said Annie. “Makes sense a tribute to Daniel would be here. Let’s follow the directions and see what happens.” She stepped up to the wall and placed her hands on the square of stone cut into the bricks. “What did it say? ‘Embrace the face of Daniel’?” As gently as cleaning a baby’s cheek Annie began caressing the inanimate stone, running her fingers over the hair, the eyes, the chin of the carved image. Nothing happened.

The amphitheater opening wide to Procession Street, Rodriguez felt exposed, which made him nervous. He left the group in the space between the seats and climbed up two levels flanking the street. Crouching down, only his head rose above the top edge. He cupped his hands around his eyes and squinted down the street, into the distance.

“Something is moving out there,” he said with muffled voice. “Looks like a vehicle … and it’s coming this way.”

Tom stepped up behind his wife. “You’ve got to hurry,” he whispered.

Sliding from shadow to shadow, Achmed moved from room to alley, toward where he saw the movement. He clicked off the safety and fingered the trigger.

“What am I supposed to do?” Annie turned to Tom with a frantic look.

“Here … let me try.”

Tom moved closer to the carved face. He placed his hands, one on each side, against the circular bas-relief that held the image.
Lord, please help us. We’re just trying to be obedient. Show us what to do next.
Tom felt the anxiety of those waiting behind him. In the urgency of his prayer, he leaned against the carving. “Please, Lord … help us.”

Embrace the face of Daniel. Turn his face toward you.

“What?” Tom glanced over his shoulder but was only met with questioning looks. He turned back to the carving. Bohannon took his left hand and placed it upon the ear on the left and took his right hand and wedged it into the indentation that was carved away to create the profile. His fingers searched the edges of the face, looking for something against which he could exert some pressure. Just under the eyebrow, above the bridge of the nose, he felt a very small hole. He tried his index finger, but it was too thick. He hooked his little finger into the depression and pushed it in to get as much leverage as possible. Something clicked.

Immediately, Tom felt slackness in the medallion, a weakening of the resistance. He exerted more pressure on the left of the carving and pulled with his finger. The image budged, but didn’t release. His finger objecting to the strain, Tom pushed even harder with his left hand.

Joe loped down the steps and came to his side. “We’ve got to move!”

Achmed heard the voices. Just on the other side of this wall. The alley was narrow. He pushed the automatic beneath his belt at the small of his back, wedged his boot into the wall on the right, pressed his hands against the walls on each side, and lifted himself halfway to the top of the wall.

With a stone-on-stone scraping sound, the medallion broke loose, turned on a pivot, and Tom found himself staring into the face of Daniel. The medallion was carved on both sides and Daniel’s eyes stared, unseeing, into Tom’s. Bohannon placed his hands on both of Daniel’s cheeks and examined the rough surface. The slight pressure moved the medallion back, deeper into the wall. Bohannon continued the pressure and the medallion slid all the way into the wall. As it disappeared …

Crack!

The loud
Crack!
brought Whalen and Atkins to an abrupt halt at an intersection with an alley. Whalen tried to orient himself to the sound when Fred Atkins tapped him on the shoulder and pointed west along the narrow alley. Thirty yards away, Whalen could see a large, body-shaped shadow lifting itself toward the top of the alley wall. Atkins laid his semiautomatic rifle on the ground, slipped a knife out of the sheath on his belt and took quick, purposeful steps.