Read Online The Jerusalem Creed: A Sean Wyatt Thriller by Ernest Dempsey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ernest Dempsey
Tags: Suspense, Historical, Thrillers, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Conspiracies, Terrorism, Thrillers & Suspense, Spies & Politics, Assassinations
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flashed a cynical glare. “Hearts as pure as snow? I’m not here for a lesson in morals, Doctor. I need you to decipher the tablet code.”
“Why?” Nehem raised his hands off the table, a move that caused Sharouf to put his hand on the doctor’s shoulder.
Mamoud raised a hand, signaling for his guard to release the hostage. “It’s fine, Sharouf. He’s of no threat to us.”
Sharouf obeyed and took a reluctant step back.
“Why?” Mamoud repeated the question. “Because I am a lover of all things in history, and of all religions.” He almost laughed at his own lie as it came from his lips.
Nehem snorted in derision. “What is the real reason you want the relics, Mamoud? You already have everything a man could want in this world. What would you need with those things?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, old man. But I will tell you this: You will give me the translation to the tablet, or I will make sure that before you die you experience more pain than you have ever imagined.” He leaned forward, folding his hands and resting his elbows on the table. “Give us the translations to the tablet, and lead us to the relics, or I swear to you, you will wish you were dead.”
The old archaeologist stared at him with an unwavering gaze. His nervous shaking had ceased, and he found new resolve in the threat. “You can do your worst to me, Mamoud. I will never give you the translations or the location of the Hoshen. They do not belong to you. I do not know what you want with them, but whatever the reason, I am most certain it is not for the cause of good.”
Mamoud feigned disappointment. “Why, Doctor, you believe that I serve the forces of evil? You couldn’t be more wrong about that. Just as you couldn’t be wrong in your assumption that I can’t make you tell me what the tablet says. And the fact that you mentioned not telling me the location means you’ve already figured that part out.”
Nehem’s demeanor shifted noticeably, to a much less comfortable affect.
“It’s okay,” Mamoud reassured him. “You are understandably stubborn. But your beliefs are misplaced. You think that I aim to torture you into submission?”
The doctor glanced over one shoulder and then the other at the guards behind him. “Why else would you ask me about ancient torture methods? I know your reputation. You are a cruel, evil man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
Mamoud rolled his shoulders. “Perhaps that’s true, but I do it all for the right reasons.”
“Greed is never a right reason.”
“Greed? Oh, I’m not greedy. I have no want for anything, Nehem. Look around you. I live in a palace on the beach.” He put his hands out as if displaying the surroundings to his unwilling guest. “I have everything I could ever desire.”
“Then what drives you, Mamoud? Power?”
The young Arab stood up and walked deliberately to the other end of the table. His expensive Italian leather shoes clicked on the hard floor with every step. When he reached the chair where Nehem sat, he folded his hands in front of him, keeping them at waist level.
“All men want power, Nehem. I have that as well. I could snap my fingers, and a hundred people would do my bidding, no matter what the order. The reason for my search will be revealed to you soon enough, when you provide me with the translations and, apparently, the location.”
Nehem’s head went back and forth slowly. “I’ll never tell you. You can torture me all you want. You’ll not get your dirty fingers on those holy relics.”
“I see.” Mamoud started to spin around and walk back to his seat, but he stopped, instead putting one hand on the table and bending over, putting his face only a foot away from the older man’s. The closeness made Nehem uncomfortable, but he forced himself to keep a straight face and not flinch.
“You are mistaken, Doctor, when you assume I was going to torture you.” He stood erect once more and took a
“Why?” Nehem raised his hands off the table, a move that caused Sharouf to put his hand on the doctor’s shoulder.
Mamoud raised a hand, signaling for his guard to release the hostage. “It’s fine, Sharouf. He’s of no threat to us.”
Sharouf obeyed and took a reluctant step back.
“Why?” Mamoud repeated the question. “Because I am a lover of all things in history, and of all religions.” He almost laughed at his own lie as it came from his lips.
Nehem snorted in derision. “What is the real reason you want the relics, Mamoud? You already have everything a man could want in this world. What would you need with those things?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, old man. But I will tell you this: You will give me the translation to the tablet, or I will make sure that before you die you experience more pain than you have ever imagined.” He leaned forward, folding his hands and resting his elbows on the table. “Give us the translations to the tablet, and lead us to the relics, or I swear to you, you will wish you were dead.”
The old archaeologist stared at him with an unwavering gaze. His nervous shaking had ceased, and he found new resolve in the threat. “You can do your worst to me, Mamoud. I will never give you the translations or the location of the Hoshen. They do not belong to you. I do not know what you want with them, but whatever the reason, I am most certain it is not for the cause of good.”
Mamoud feigned disappointment. “Why, Doctor, you believe that I serve the forces of evil? You couldn’t be more wrong about that. Just as you couldn’t be wrong in your assumption that I can’t make you tell me what the tablet says. And the fact that you mentioned not telling me the location means you’ve already figured that part out.”
Nehem’s demeanor shifted noticeably, to a much less comfortable affect.
“It’s okay,” Mamoud reassured him. “You are understandably stubborn. But your beliefs are misplaced. You think that I aim to torture you into submission?”
The doctor glanced over one shoulder and then the other at the guards behind him. “Why else would you ask me about ancient torture methods? I know your reputation. You are a cruel, evil man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
Mamoud rolled his shoulders. “Perhaps that’s true, but I do it all for the right reasons.”
“Greed is never a right reason.”
“Greed? Oh, I’m not greedy. I have no want for anything, Nehem. Look around you. I live in a palace on the beach.” He put his hands out as if displaying the surroundings to his unwilling guest. “I have everything I could ever desire.”
“Then what drives you, Mamoud? Power?”
The young Arab stood up and walked deliberately to the other end of the table. His expensive Italian leather shoes clicked on the hard floor with every step. When he reached the chair where Nehem sat, he folded his hands in front of him, keeping them at waist level.
“All men want power, Nehem. I have that as well. I could snap my fingers, and a hundred people would do my bidding, no matter what the order. The reason for my search will be revealed to you soon enough, when you provide me with the translations and, apparently, the location.”
Nehem’s head went back and forth slowly. “I’ll never tell you. You can torture me all you want. You’ll not get your dirty fingers on those holy relics.”
“I see.” Mamoud started to spin around and walk back to his seat, but he stopped, instead putting one hand on the table and bending over, putting his face only a foot away from the older man’s. The closeness made Nehem uncomfortable, but he forced himself to keep a straight face and not flinch.
“You are mistaken, Doctor, when you assume I was going to torture you.” He stood erect once more and took a
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