The Genesis Plague (2010) by Michael Byrnes Page A

and gave the memory a cold shower. ‘Anyway, as you might imagine, the women were not pleased. The men weren’t kind, either. Dangerous for such a very pretty woman who has no shame. I actually mentioned these things to her, you know, to help her. It’s the way I am …’ he said, tapping his hands to his chest.
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘She did eat here a few times. Very friendly, polite. Always left generous tips. Those Americans and their tips. When will they learn?’ He shook his head.
    ‘Do you remember when she was here?’
    ‘Not long after the Texas cowboy blew up Baghdad.’
    ‘Was she alone?’
    ‘No, there were others too, I’m sure of it.’ He took a long moment to juice the memory. ‘The others were all men. Five, maybe six. Some military men, yes … and two wearing Levi jeans. I’d like a pair of those,’ he confessed. ‘I’d look like John Wayne … or maybe James Dean, no?’
    Hazo smiled. ‘Do you remember why they were here?’
    Karsaz shrugged. ‘Lots of soldiers back then. Reporters too. Nothing unusual.’
    ‘Do you remember any talk of them going up into the mountains, excavating perhaps?’
    This confused Karsaz. ‘I’m sure the only digging they did was for Saddam and Osama.’
    ‘I mean digging for artifacts.’
    A look of confusion preceded another shrug.
    Hazo moved on to pictures from inside the cave. ‘And these … Any idea what these images might mean?’
    ‘What is this?’ Karsaz said to himself, as he studied the haunting images. ‘Looks like something one might find over the mountains in Persepolis. Or maybe in the temple ruins of Babylon … or Ur, perhaps. You remember? Back in school we saw things like this on our trips, yes? Saddam was rebuilding the old empire in hopes of inciting the Jews and Christians to scream Armageddon. Thought he was the new Hitler. Brought a new Holocaust to our people. That evil man.’
    Hazo tried to keep him on track. ‘These etchings are different from anything I’ve ever seen in Babylon. See this woman?’ He tapped the picture. ‘This goddess figure is highly unusual.’
    ‘Maybe it is Ishtar?’ Karsaz guessed.
    The Assyrian goddess of sex and war? Hazo considered, contemplating the picture again. ‘It’s possible.’
    ‘What is this she carries in her hands?’ Karsaz said, scrunching his eyes. ‘And why does it glow like this?’
    ‘I thought you might know, cousin.’
    Karsaz shook his head. ‘This is like nothing I have ever seen.’ He studied the images a few moments longer, considering the connection to the American woman. ‘The woman in the photo … did she find these things in the mountains?’
    Perceptive, as always, thought Hazo. ‘It would be best that I not say too much about it.’
    ‘I see,’ Karsaz said. ‘There are many secrets in those mountains. I suppose if anyone were to know about them, it would be the monks. The Chaldeans know many secrets. After all, they profess to be direct descendants of the ancient Mesopotamians who once inhabited those mountains.’
    ‘I think you’re right.’
    ‘There is that monastery in the mountain north of Kirkuk …’ For three seconds Karsaz spun his hand to conjure the name, but came up blank. ‘You know the place I speak of?’
    ‘I do.’
    Karsaz neatly arranged the photos, handed them back to Hazo. ‘I would suggest you go there. See if the monks might answer your questions.’

14
LAS VEGAS
    Stokes punched his security code into the keypad and the mechanical jamb bolts disengaged. He cranked down on the handle, gave a push, and the door whispered open. The fowl stench of excrement drifted out at him. ‘Good lord,’ he gasped, holding back his gag reflex. He set the air filtration system to the max. Then taking the handkerchief from his blazer’s breast pocket, he covered his mouth and tentatively proceeded into the vault.
    At the room’s centre, Roselli was sprawled face up on the carpet in a spread eagle, blue complexion, murky eyes opened wide and