The Betrayed Series: Ultimate Omnibus Collection Part 130

"Rebecca and I were not the only ones making the Viking connection," Bunny explained. "As a matter of fact, we followed this article-The Found Tribe of Dann: Did the Scales of Justice Migrate as Far as Newfoundland?"

From the blank look on both of their faces, Bunny was pretty sure neither Prenner nor Emily was well schooled in ancient Jewish studies.

"Dann is one of the 'lost tribes.' As a matter of fact, it was the northernmost tribe of Israel until they got booted out of the Holy Land by the Canaans." Off of their blank expressions, Bunny asked, "Ring a bell?"

"Vaguely," Emily answered.

Great. They wanted quick answers, but it was going to take Bunny a semester to get them up to speed.

Prenner leaned back in his chair. "I think we get the whole lost tribe thing. Those Jewish tribes disappeared from the historical record after the Canaans invaded. But why the focus on the Dann tribe? Isn't it as lost as the others?"

"All right, this is a bit more obscure but all the more important for it," Bunny said as she brought up the pa.s.sage Rebecca had found. "The legions of Dann..." Bunny stopped to explain. "Dann was the second-largest tribe." She restarted. "The legions of Dann will leap from Bashan to become those prophesized."

Bunny looked up. "So you can see why we were so interested."

"No," Prenner said with a chuckle. Maybe the guy was human. "Not at all."

"Bashan is to the east," Bunny emphasized. Still, they didn't seem to get it. And people called her an airhead. She brought up a map of ancient Israel. "The Danns settled to the far north. That pa.s.sage makes absolutely no sense. The Danns had never been granted or settled land to the east. And not a single scholar knows why the pa.s.sage clearly says they would come from the east."

"Okay..." Emily said. "I am sure that just gets religious scholars' panties in a bunch. However, I am with Prenner in that I still don't care."

"Well, Nyura Ma.s.sari would certainly disagree," Bunny said as she brought up the Viking article again. "He has brought together a huge amount of research on the Jewish tribes and where their genetic markers have spread across the globe. He has spent his whole life trying to track down the Dann tribe."

"I am sure Rebecca is fascinated by this stuff-"

Bunny cut off Emily. "It is more than academic minutia. You really don't see it?"

The woman c.o.c.ked her head, squinting her eyes. The CIA operative clearly did not like being behind the curve. You could see her mind trying to unwind the mystery. Finally, Bunny put her out of her misery and pointed to the author of the article's name.

"Ma.s.sari? It means 'Egyptian' in Arabic," Bunny explained. "It is the equivalent of saying you are Mr. Smith."

"So he is using a false last name?" Prenner clarified.

"Oh yeah," Bunny said as she brought up the letters and shuffled them. "But when you shake them just a bit, you get...Saramias."

Emily sucked in a breath and stepped back from the laptop.

"What?" Prenner said. "What am I missing?"

Bunny smiled, then looked to Emily. "Should I tell him, or will you?"

Emily just waved her off as she opened her phone and walked toward the corner of the cafe.

Bunny turned her attention to the lieutenant. "Saramias is Aunush's last name. I believe the author of that article is Aunush's father-apparently the only person to ever get away from the Disciples. Of course, until us."

Stark looked over his shoulder. "Why do you think he isn't with the Disciples?"

"You do not publish work on the genetics of ancient Jewish genes showing up in current populations if you are with the Disciples."

"Why not?" he asked.

Bunny sat down, pointing at the screen. "He is obviously trolling for their new Messiah. He is scientifically trying to find..." Bunny had to stop herself before she blurted out one of the most tightly held secrets in the world. "He is trying to find an individual of high value to them."

"But why publish if he is in hiding?"

Rebecca and she had asked the same question before heading to Iceland. "I don't think Saramias can travel freely, so he has been publishing to try and induce others to follow up on his research. We call it 'leapfrogging.' You take someone's conclusions and go out and prove or disprove them, moving the research forward."

"So you are sending Brandt to Egypt to interrogate this Mr. Saramias regarding the Disciples' interest in the African girl?" the lieutenant clarified.

"I gotta give it to you, Prenner," Bunny said, glad that he hadn't asked why the girl was such a priority for them, "you do catch on quickly.

Brandt tried to dry off. Except, that meant he had to apply pressure to his bruised and sc.r.a.ped skin. The deep purple of his most recent shoulder scar stood out against his skin. His finger followed an older, lighter scar that ran ragged along his side and down his groin. He looked like a patchwork doll, sewn by someone not all that skilled with a needle. Brandt knew he was lucky. d.a.m.ned lucky.

The shower had proved a great wake-up, though. Now to get some thick Egyptian coffee, basically a hit of straight-up caffeine, and he might actually be ready for the day.

As he dressed, the only sign that the plane had landed was by the slightest rattle of the gilded faucet. These luxury jets certainly were worth every penny. Now, if he could only convince Command to put a couple hundred million into one for his team, he'd be a happy man.

Pulling on a bulletproof vest over his shirt, Brandt walked out into the plane's "great room." A crystal chandelier hung in the center of the "room." Gold-veined mirrors lined the "walls." A huge sectional couch wrapped around in a "U," creating a conversation "circle."

Like he said. Luxury.

Last night, when they'd boarded, all Brandt had cared about was the fact that the plane was dry and had no wildlife. Now, though? The place was insane. Like they'd walked into an oil billionaire's mansion.

Rebecca turned, unconsciously smoothing back her hair. She hated those strands that framed her face when they got all wavy and unruly. She called them her "little seditious streaks." Brandt, though, liked the way they went their own way. Smiling, Rebecca walked toward him.

So you know what? Strike that whole two-hundred-million-dollar luxury plane. He was already a happy man.

Vakasa spotted him and jumped off the stool that was cozied up to the old-fashioned ice cream parlor counter, on a plane. That was the super rich. Gilded mirrors and strawberry malts. As a matter of fact, Vakasa's lips were rimmed in bright pink from her shake.

It had killed him to leave the little girl back in Africa. Even with a medicine man who swore to protect her. But Brandt hadn't even bothered to ask the bra.s.s to extract her from the Congo. He knew the policy regarding noncombatant civilians, even orphans. They just couldn't take home every kid. Besides, if he had asked, then Command had declined, someone might have asked what the h.e.l.l they were doing that day and a half it took to stash her deep in the jungle.

Now, though? Now that the Disciples were interested in her? Now she got her own luxury jet, at least for the next little while.

Vakasa ran to him, arms up, so when she was close enough, despite all his injuries, Brandt swooped her up in his arms and spun her so fast that her feet flew out behind her. She giggled as only a child could. All the horror she must have witnessed erased, at least for a moment, by a good spin.

Unfortunately, his body could remember all too well the abuse he'd put it through. Not that he would admit it to anyone, but he'd gotten a tad dizzy. Easing into a stop, Brandt propped Vakasa up onto a hip. The girl's arms draped around his neck as she leaned her cheek against his chest.

"Thor..." She sighed.

Rebecca's eyebrow went up.

Brandt patted his sidearm. "Lopez told her my gun's name was Thor's Hammer."

"Ah," Rebecca said. She headed over. "So anyone wielding his hammer must be Thor."

"Apparently," Brandt responded, soaking in this moment of quiet. Soon, too soon, they would be out again, outwitting and most likely outrunning the Disciples.

"Want one, Boss?" Davidson asked, holding up a stainless steel cup, pouring a spoonful of malt powder into a vanilla shake.

"No, thanks," he answered. He was about to ask where the rest of the men were when they strolled from the forward compartment.

Lopez held up his hand. "My fault we are one minute and twelve seconds behind schedule, Sarge. We'll make it up, I promise."

Of that, Brandt had no question. "A low-profile car, Lopez. Low. Profile."

The corporal was tasked with getting them a car. Unfortunately, his taste in automobiles ran nearly as rich as his taste in aircraft.

"This is Egypt. I get it," Lopez stated, waving him off as he headed toward the hatch.

Talli and Levont followed behind. They had their own shopping list.

"Sarge..." Davidson asked with a frown.

Normally, the private was their procurement guy, but his blond hair and blue eyes were not going to charm the Egyptian merchants. Especially with all those scars. His most recent round of surgeries had helped tremendously. However, in Egypt, his flawed Midwestern good looks were going to rouse suspicion. In this part of the world, Talli and Levont blended in perfectly. Even Lopez's darker complexion helped.

As the other men left and closed the hatch, Brandt looked to Davidson. "Sorry. You are going to have to sit this one out."

The private frowned but didn't complain. Rebecca, on the other hand, suddenly got very busy straightening the couch's elaborate cushions.

"Davidson, could you give us the room for a few minutes?" he asked.

At first, the sniper stiffened, probably thinking Brandt asked him to leave as a reprimand. Then the kid looked to Rebecca, who looked abundantly guilty. After seeing that look, Davidson couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

"Absolutely," he said, coming over and taking Vakasa out of Brandt's arms. "Let's get you cleaned up, kiddo."

Brandt locked eyes with Rebecca as Davidson left the room.

"Time's up," Brandt said. "I need the truth. Now."

Rebecca had been dreading this moment. She hated hurting Brandt's feelings. She could still remember the pain in his eyes when they thought they were hunting after Christ's bones. She still hadn't shared with him what she'd found in that Roman cave.

Here, though? She couldn't hide what she knew any longer.

"Sit down," she urged.

Brandt tilted his head to the side. The gesture he did when he wasn't quite sure where she was going with a conversation.

"Trust me," she said. "You are going to want to be sitting when you hear this."

With a sigh, Brandt crossed to the couch and sat down. Rebecca joined him.

"Now, take a deep breath."

"Rebecca..."

She put a hand on his knee. "Seriously, Vincent. Take a deep breath."

Brandt's eyes scanned her face. He should know she didn't ask for any of this lightly. Finally, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, only flinching in pain at the end. Then he opened his eyes. "Any other delay tactics you would like to try?"

Rebecca wished they were just delay tactics. She needed to be sure Brandt didn't throw a blood clot when he heard what she had to say.

"As you know, the tablets that contained the Ten Commandments-"

"Supposedly contained the Ten Commandments," Brandt interjected.

"Yes, well, let's just for the moment a.s.sume they were the real ones," Rebecca answered. "They contained a great deal more information than just the ten laws."

Brandt nodded for her to continue. She moved her hand from his knee to his palm and gave it a squeeze. He returned the affection even though his lips wore a frown.

"It stated in pretty specific detail the story of the Messiah."

"And?" he asked with that edge back in his voice. He really didn't like his Scripture messed with. Which only made this all the harder.

"And it also made it clear that the Savior would be the daughter of G.o.d."

Blinking twice before he spoke, Brandt's expression darkened. "Daughter? As in female? As in a woman as Messiah?"

Rebecca looked in the direction Davidson had taken Vakasa. "Or a girl." She squeezed his hand. This time he did not return the gesture.

"So you want me to believe that not only is G.o.d's son actually a daughter, but that it is the little girl we just scooped up from Africa?"

Wincing, waiting for the scathing reb.u.t.tal, Rebecca nodded.

Instead, Brandt gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Well, if that's all." He patted her knee as he rose. "Want a malt?"

"What?" Rebecca blurted. Where was the argument? The wrestling to the ground to prove her wrong? "No. What?"

He offered his hand to her. Still stunned, she took it, and he pulled her up into an embrace. "I don't believe it," Brandt said softly. "Sorry. I know you are entertaining at least the idea," he said, smoothing her hair back. "And clearly the Disciples believe wholeheartedly, but I don't. I know my savior. I'm good."

Brandt kissed her on the forehead, then went over to the shake machine. Rebecca followed slowly as he opened the small refrigerator. "Can you believe this?" he asked, peering into the cooler. "Look, they've even got sliced fruit. Want some fresh strawberries in your chocolate shake?"

"No, thank you," Rebecca answered automatically. "Are you really okay?" She also wanted to ask, Or did you have mini-stroke? but thought it more prudent not to ask.

Brandt kind of liked seeing Rebecca this way. A little unbalanced. Surprised. At a loss for words. It happened so seldom he decided to enjoy it.

"Yep," he said as he put a third scoop of ice cream into the cup. "I'm hungry but great."

He knew what she'd expected. She'd seen it before back in France, Budapest, and Rome. More recently in Russia, Slovenia, and Jordan. His shock, horror, and revulsion of what he considered a sacrilege. Then he'd had an epiphany.

"Faith is faith," he said with a shrug.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "Faith can be shaken."