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Here is the book blurb.
On the outskirts of Jerusalem, a
person digs up two ossuaries and finds a strange yellow crystal the size of a
smartphone able to repair itself when scratched, and turns into a perfect
mirror under laser light. Needing money, he sells it to a local merchant, who
puts it on the shadow gem market. Suspecting that it is not natural, Dr.
Morrison, a part-time mineral collector, purchases the crystal and discovers
that he has a quantum computer device that could revolutionize the information
technology industry—if it could be made to work.
A Chinese official, also indulging a
hobby in rare minerals, thwarted that his bid failed, realizing the crystal’s
special nature, sends a Second Bureau operative to get the crystal from Dr.
Morrison using whatever means necessary. A trail of murder leads Israeli
authorities to the crystal…and they send a Mossad agent to retrieve a national
treasure. Learning of the crystal’s existence and its potential, the American
government becomes involved, resulting in a collision of conflicting interests,
leaving Dr. Morrison to pick up the pieces of his shattered life. A political
drama so real, it will make you wonder if it isn’t already happening.
Interesting cover!
Stefan is also giving us a peek at this new political drama!
Glancing
off a rock, the pickaxe sang and the handle vibrated in Cheber’s hands, making
his palms tingle. He arched his back and grunted as aching muscles protested
this unaccustomed abuse. After a loud exhale, he squinted at the pale blue sky
unbroken by any cloud and adjusted his shades. The four olive trees that
bordered the back stone fence offered meager protection from the relentless sun
and he longed to rest his weary body under one, preferably with a cold beer in
hand. Bees flirted around red amaryllis and hollyhock blooms. If only it were
not so hot, clearing rocks from Alisa’s growing garden plot wouldn’t be such a
burden.
“I’ve been waiting weeks for that ground to be
cleared, Cheber Shaken!” she raged at him over breakfast, taking the fun out of
getting up this morning. He winced, coffee cup poised before his lips, wishing
she’d stop nagging for once, resigned to suffer another miserable day.
“I don’t ask much from you, and as the Lord is my witness,
you don’t give me much. How I came to marry a sniveling worm like you, I’ll
never know.”
“I’ll get around to it,” he grumbled sourly, not wanting to
meet her eyes. He had been putting off the unpleasant chore. Besides,
the plot she already had was sufficiently large and kept her occupied enough.
What did she want, a farm? The scraps of vegetables she managed to eke out of
that parched soil weren’t worth the labor, but eating natural was the current
gossip in their social circle and Alisa did not want to be left behind. Besides,
it was August, not a good time to be planting anything.
“You’ll get to it this minute! I don’t want to see you
wasting the few days left of your vacation staring at the TV or loafing with
your friends. Hear me?”
“I hear you,” he said wearily, knowing he’d have no peace
until he got the depressing job done. Perhaps if he dug a deep enough hole in
that dried-up plot, he could fit her in it. The problem was, he still loved
her. What was worse, she knew it and took advantage of it, making his life a drudgery.
There didn’t seem to be any way to satisfy her demands. What did the woman want?
“Look at you! Still only an accounting clerk—”
“Management accountant.”
“—and Eran is already a supervisor, and both of you joined
the company together. Neta will start high school this fall. She’ll need
things. On your worthless salary, I don’t know how we’ll make ends meet. You’re
a spineless weakling with no consideration for me or your daughter,” she hissed
and tightened the sash of her green nightgown. Her breasts shook as she
gestured at him, and he was momentarily distracted by more pleasant thoughts.
That’s all they were…thoughts. He could not recall the last time they shared
any intimacy, and the way things were going, that was not likely to change.
Doesn’t the Torah say that a woman is a man’s field and he should till his
field? Unfortunately, that field was mostly barren of any love and warmth these
days, overgrown with weeds.
He lowered his cup and glared at her. “If you took a
job—you’re a qualified graphics designer—it would help, you know.”
She planted her hands on shapely hips and snorted. “If I had
married a man, I wouldn’t need to work!”
After that, breakfast did not sparkle with conversation.
Cheber leaned against the pickaxe and frowned. He worked
hard at his job, but he didn’t play the office politics game. It simply wasn’t
in him. Eran told him he was due for a promotion by end of year as a section
manager administering the company’s internal audits. It would mean at least
eighteen hundred shekels a month more, but he knew it would not be enough to
shut Alisa’s prune face. He should never have moved to Arnona and built this
fancy two-story stone mansion for her, saddling himself with a lifetime
mortgage. Nothing he ever did pleased her; not even his unfailing love. Hers
had dried up somewhere along the way and he wondered what he did to trigger it.
Did she love him, or was their existence reduced to a
cohabitation contract until Neta was married off, leaving them free to find
what they never had together? There was love somewhere long ago and he
tried to figure out where they mislaid it—where she mislaid it. He had
given her his all. He remembered clearly the chance meeting in the sprawling
Tel Aviv University library one sunny afternoon between classes. She wore a
knee-length beige skirt and black blouse, black hair tied in a bun, her large
almond eyes drew him inexorably within striking range of her delicate perfume,
his captivity completed by a sunny smile. Like every young man with raging
hormones, he’d had fleeting relationships, but he knew immediately this woman
was different.
Going out, talking about themselves and their life plans,
she displayed determination, a toughness to succeed in a commercial world
dominated by men. All warning signs, but he ignored them, willing to die for
her. He wanted to study mechanical engineering, but was too lazy to put in the
required effort. Higher mathematics and physics demanded a lot of work, and he
settled for an accountancy course, majoring in management. Both in their final
year, studies took up most of their time, but mutual magnetism overcame such a
minor obstacle. Those were mad days, exhilarating days, and each knew where it
would lead. The road since had turned into endless days of weariness. Even the
joy of having Neta only emphasized his growing loneliness.
On reflection, he should have stuck with mechanical
engineering.
From the open garage doorway, the Sephardi number he’d
absently been listening to ended and the DJ let loose with a Yehudah Poliker
light rock piece. Staring at the broken ground at his feet, dry and unforgiving
like Alisa, he sighed and shrugged. He would get her damned garden plot
extended, which should take her off his back, if only for a little while. It
was his own fault really. Wanting to please her, accede to her every whim, only
succeeded in generating scorn and contempt from her. He’d been too
accommodating, that was the problem. Perhaps it was time to start pleasing
himself for a change, no matter what the consequences. A man can take only so
much.
In the valley below the rolling hillside, the crowding
suburbia of Sur Bahar pushed back available land. Far in the east, the Judean
Desert shimmered in the rippling heat. He picked up the pickaxe and clenched
his teeth. A beer would go down nicely right now, he reflected, but he would
have to fetch it for himself. It would never occur to Alisa to bring him
one—although long ago, she used to—or condescend to help him rake away cleared
stones. Shaking his head, he figured the beer wasn’t worth facing her caustic
invective.
The pickaxe clanged against the same rock and he swore. He
drove the pointy end under the thing and heaved, but it refused to budge.
Muscles straining, he gave a hard jerk on the handle and sprawled back as the
rock gave way. He stood, patted the dust off his clothes, and glowered at what
turned out to be a small boulder. As he bent down to roll it out of the way, he
faced a black opening in the ground. Biting his lower lip, he groped for a
pebble and dropped it into the hole. A hollow clang told him he’d struck a
cavity, which made his shoulders sag in disgust. Instead of an extended garden,
Alisa now had a cellar! Perhaps if he shoveled in all the loose rock he’d dug
up, he might fill it before she noticed anything and gave him more hard time.
The back of his land sloped down slightly. A stone fence
separated it from the stepped terraces hugging the hillside all the way into
the valley below. Water running down the hill long before Arnona was settled
probably found an entry somewhere and dug out the hole—leaving him with a major
complication. First things first, though. He needed to find out the size of his
problem. It wouldn’t do having the ground cave in under him. Gazing at the
opening, a grin creased his smeared face. It might be just large enough for
Alisa. Nobody would ever find her.
Contemplating the pleasant thought, he reached for the spade
and gingerly cut away soil around the gaping opening. It seemed like the hole
extended toward the fence, which made sense. What he needed was some light. He
straightened and strode quickly toward the doorway that led into the garage.
Inside, he cast a glance at the neat shelves of tools and paraphernalia one
always accumulated over time, and reached for a boxy orange 6V torch. He grasped
the handle and walked out clicking the switch to make sure it worked. The radio
DJ was pontificating on a song he was about to unleash on his listeners, but
Cheber paid no attention as he strode out.
He lay on the ground and thrust the torch into the cavity.
The yellow beam revealed a rough chamber some one-and-a-half meters deep, not
more than three meters long, nearly rectangular, the end sealed by a large
white slab. He froze when the torch exposed two small stone chests. He had
stumbled onto an ancient burial site! What a damn nuisance. Whoever lay
entombed here was not very important as the chamber lacked any stone lining.
“Cheber!” a shrill voice shattered the silence, making him
wince. “What on earth are you doing down there?”
He lifted his head and studied her for a moment. She had put
on a white cotton blouse and cream pants that hugged her supple figure.
Standing behind the steel-railed balcony, black hair cascading over her
shoulders, light lipstick outlining full lips, she looked pretty in bright
sunshine. Her face though, creased with scorn, was devoid of warmth. Was she
planning to go out again? Perhaps she was seeing another man? A stab of fiery
jealousy made his teeth grind. No, she wouldn’t do that, content to make his
life a misery. He should sell the house; the proceeds would be enough to keep
her and Neta comfortable, and he would move back to Tel Aviv. Lots of high
paying jobs there, and he’d be shut of her.
Unfortunately, he’d been saying that to himself for some
time, but never acted on the thought. He simply could not bring himself to cut
the bond of love he had for her, even if it was not shared. Staring at her, his
thoughts tumbled as he contemplated life without her.
“Come down and see,” he shouted back indifferently as he got
up and walked into the garage.
He took the small metal ladder off its wall hooks and
carried it to the hole. When he lowered it, he heard Alisa gasp.
“What in the world…”
Not listening to her, he picked up the torch and climbed
down, relishing the sudden coolness. He had to bend to prevent his head
striking the jagged ceiling as he made his way to the stone chests. Kneeling
down, he recognized them immediately—ossuaries. People found them all the time,
tucked into shallow holes dug into hillsides. As a Jew, Torah law bound him not
to desecrate the resting place of the dead, but Cheber wasn’t orthodox, to the
lament of his parents. He lifted the torch and played it over the large seal
stone. Clearly, over time, water and erosion had piled up rubble and soil in
front of the burial chamber, hiding all evidence of its existence.
Given the rough state of the chamber, the ossuaries did not
hold anyone with wealth or status. Perhaps not, but they still may have some
value. If he sold them to one of the dealers who peddled so-called genuine
antiquities to tourists swarming Jerusalem’s Old City, they might bring in
badly needed shekels. It could also stop Alisa’s whining, for a time anyway.
Besides, he would need the money for material to fill the chamber.
“Come out of there at once!” Alisa demanded and he peered up
at her, seeing her disgusted expression framed against the opening. “I cannot
trust you to do a simple job without you complicating it. Lord preserve me.”
Something snapped inside Cheber and he didn’t care anymore
to be her foot mat.
“If you don’t shut up, this hole is large enough to hold you
and your waspish tongue,” he told her calmly, amazed to hear his words and feel
the flood of relief they produced, a catharsis that burned away the layers of
suffering surrounding his soul, leaving him clean and invigorated.
She gaped, her mouth hanging open in astonishment. “How dare
you talk to me like that!”
“I should have done it long ago,” he declared and crouched
beside the nearest ossuary, feeling her oppressive weight roll off his
shoulders. He should have told her off long ago. Unrequited love wasn’t
worth giving up his dignity. There were limits and she just crossed the
dividing line.
Strange markings decorated the lid and sides. He gently
pushed the ossuary, but it didn’t budge. Holding both palms against the edge,
he applied more force. The chest leaned back slightly. Nodding, he worked his
fingers under it and gently lifted. It wasn’t overly heavy, perhaps eight to
ten kilos. He shuffled toward the ladder and grunted as he lifted the stone
chest through the hole onto solid ground. He heaved the second ossuary through
the opening, picked up the torch and climbed out. Standing beside Alisa, he
tilted his head at the chests.
“What do you think of that?”
“Two burial caskets. Big deal. What are you going to do
about the hole in my garden? I can’t walk around with that thing here.”
He clenched his fists, holding back his temper. “Don’t you
understand? This could be the break we’ve been looking for. They’ll fetch
twelve thousand at least.”
“Who’ll want to buy two ossuaries?” she scoffed. “The
markets are filled with them.”
“Maybe you’re right, but let’s take a look at what’s inside
before we throw them back, okay?”
“Bones, that’s what’s in there.” A frown creased her brow.
“Shouldn’t we report this or something? The Antiquities Authority could give us
a bad time if they found out.”
“We dug them up in our backyard, for crying out loud. This
isn’t a declared archaeological site.”
“Talk to Eran. He collects such trash.”
“I don’t have to talk to anybody. I know what I’m doing.”
“Just like you knew when you dug up that hole.”
“Peace, woman!”
Cheber picked up one of the ossuaries and carried it into
the garage, bent under its weight. He placed it on the workbench, switched off
the radio and reached for a long screwdriver mounted in a rack. The narrow
blade slid easily into the groove between the lid and carved stone side. He
levered up the lid and placed it on the bench. Alisa leaned over his shoulder
and peered inside.
“Like I said, bones,” she declared scornfully.
They were bones, all right, but that’s what an ossuary was
for. Judging by the size of the leg femur, it was not from an adult. What
struck him as odd was the elongated skull and the abnormally large eye sockets.
He grinned with excitement.
“These aren’t ordinary bones, my dear. The skull is nothing
like I have ever seen anywhere. It reminds me of those strange skulls they
found in Peru. A dealer I know in the Old City will pay plenty for this.”
Without looking at her, he went out and brought back the
second ossuary. The lid came off easily, revealing another set of bones…and
what appeared to be a small box wrapped in faded brown leather. Seeing it, his
mind filled with images of jewels and riches hidden inside.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Open it!”
Heart racing, he carefully peeled off the leather. Holding
the box swathed in purple cloth, he touched it. The material felt like fine
silk as he unfolded it, revealing a container made of rich brown wood that
exuded a faint incense fragrance, covered with the same strange symbols as the
ossuaries. A thin line ran around the box a centimeter from the top. He grasped
the lid and tugged. It came off easily. Something nestled inside swathed in
white cloth.
“If you’re finished staring at it…” Alisa hissed, clearly
impatient. He snorted and held the little parcel to her.
Hesitating, she took it and fumbled with the cloth, then
caught her breath and gawked. In her hand was a rectangular pale orange crystal
the size of a small smartphone, only thicker. It seemed to glow with an inner
light. Every edge was beveled, and a shallow groove ran along both long sides.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, clearly awed. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s been machined, but I cannot tell if it
is a gemstone. Too large to be an ornamental jewel. I know one thing, it’s
worth a lot of money. I’ll take some pictures and make a phone call or two.”
“What about the hole in my garden?”
“Fill it yourself!” he snarled and strode toward the door
leading into the house.
He swept his eyes across the kitchen, spotted his smartphone
on the credenza shelf and grabbed it. Alisa glared at him when he returned, but
said nothing, mouth pursed. Ignoring her, he snapped shots of the ossuaries,
the bones and the crystal. He walked back into the house and went upstairs to
his study. After powering up the tower computer, he hooked the cell to the USB
port and downloaded the photos.
Eran was something of an antiquities collector and had some
nice pieces. Cheber had seen them and his friend would talk for hours on the
subject, lubricated by a glass or two of smooth claret. Although not
overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of a cracked pot or misshapen female
figurine, Cheber had nonetheless accumulated a rudimentary understanding of
Israel’s tortuous history—from an archaeological perspective anyway.
He scanned the list of Eran’s emails in Outlook and finally
found what he was looking for. Over a beer one afternoon, discussing
antiquities of course, and the muddled relationship licensed dealers maintained
with the Israel Antiquities Authority—technically, according to the 1978
Antiquities Law, any artifact found after passage of the law belonged to the state—Eran
spoke of a thriving trade in all types of objects, from pottery, figurines and
rare manuscripts. The IAA wanted to suppress the trade, but it was helpless as
the courts and the Ministry of Tourism upheld the dealers’ right to trade.
Eran’s email listed four licensed traders with whom he dealt
regularly. Among its winding lanes and hole-in-the-wall shops, the Old City had
an endless number of outfits selling three-day-old antiques to gullible
tourists. The dealers Eran knew guaranteed he would not be cheated, but Cheber
would have to do his own bargaining. He never thought he would need a dealer,
but was now glad to benefit from his friend’s expertise.
He selected two names, one in the Jewish and one in the
Muslim Quarter. Composing a brief email, he attached the photos and sent it
off. He wrote another email to Eran and smiled as he pressed the Send icon. His
friend was at work, usually taking his vacation in June, but Cheber figured
Eran would call as soon as he read the email.
Knowing he faced two hardnosed traders, Cheber started
Googling, wanting to know more about ossuaries and their likely worth. His face
fell as he read the articles. Alisa was right, the market was flooded with the
things. He chewed his lower lip and pondered the situation. There might be lots
of burial chests around, but he figured his bones ought to be worth something
to a museum or university. However, the prospect of a drawn-out negotiation
process with museum authorities made him wince. He wanted to sell quickly and
rid himself of the things, and Alisa’s nagging.
Trying to value the crystal was much more difficult and
turned into a hopeless exercise. Not knowing anything about gemstones, he was
stymied. Still, the unique thing had to be valuable. Take it to a jeweler and
have it appraised?
His cell trilled and he pressed the phone icon, smiling as
he read the caller’s name.
“Hi, Eran. That didn’t take long.”
“You’re a bastard, Cheber, did you know that?” his friend
replied hotly. “I scratch and scrounge for my collection, and the gods drop two
ossuaries in your backyard. I hope you fall into that hole!”
Cheber laughed. “I’ve got it reserved for somebody else.”
“Hah! I keep telling you, old friend. You are clinging to
that woman and she’s making your life one long torture session. She isn’t worth
it. Get yourself a new model.”
“Like you did?”
“Best thing I ever done. The rabbinical courts these days
don’t give you a hard time over a divorce like they used to.”
“I’ll think about it, but it’s complicated.”
“You’re the one who’s making it complicated.”
“Look, you didn’t call to talk about my lousy marriage, and
I don’t want to discuss it right now.”
“No, I didn’t. About your find, who did you contact?”
“Yaron and Malek.”
“Mmm. Both are fairly honest. I’d buy the things myself, but
I’ve got an ossuary already. As for what they’re worth, you may get three
thousand for each. There isn’t much of a demand for them these days. You could
try selling them to an overseas collector, but you’ll be buried in government
red tape. Not worth it. The unusual bones will be one of your draw cards.”
“You want to buy them?” Cheber asked hopefully.
“What do you want for them?”
“Ten thousand, and I’ll throw in the ossuaries.”
“Sorry, old man. No can do. I’m short of dinero right now.
Can you wait until next month?”
“I can’t. I have a hole in my backyard I need to fill.”
“You’ve got money stashed away, but I sympathize. That
crystal…It’s definitely an unusual specimen. Before you talk to Yaron or Malek,
I’d suggest you take it to a jeweler for an appraisal. It might be worth a
small pile.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. You still okay for dinner on
Saturday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Talk to you later.”
Cheber switched off, smiled and shook his head. Eran was a
character and his new wife a lovely lady. Alisa liked the younger woman and the
two often went shopping in the city together. That’s what he needed to do now,
shop for a price…and maybe a new model like Eran suggested.
“Cheber! What are you doing up there?” Alisa’s caustic voice
shattered the atmosphere and he sighed. Will the woman ever give him a moment
of peace?
He got up and padded to the master bedroom. After throwing
his soiled clothes into the washing hamper, he showered and dressed in beige
slacks and a matching short-sleeved shirt. He pocketed his wallet and the ring
of keys and made his way to the garage. Not bothering to explain, he wrapped
the crystal in its cloth and left Alisa staring after him as he climbed into
the Honda Civic. He pressed the button to open the garage door and turned the
ignition key. The engine fired and purred. He engaged ‘drive’ and the car
surged forward.
Three hours later, weary and badly wanting some lunch, he
pulled into the driveway, waited for the garage door to open, and drove in
without bothering to do it in reverse to position the car for an easy exit. He
slammed the door and barely glanced at the ossuaries on the workbench.
His cell went off and he dragged it out of his pocket.
“Cheber Shaken.”
“This is Jamail Malek. I am calling regarding the email you
sent this morning.”
“I appreciate the call, Mr. Malek.”
“Please, call me Jamail. You found something very unusual,
Mr. Shaken, and I am not referring to the ossuaries. I have enough of them
cluttering my shop. However, I am interested in the bones and, of course, the
crystal. Do you want to sell?”
“My price is twenty-five thousand shekels.”
Cheber heard a restrained guffaw. “An ambitious price, but
one I could not possibly meet. I am prepared to offer you fifteen for
everything, subject to an inspection.”
“I had the crystal valued, Jamail. It alone is worth more
than eight thousand.”
“Perhaps. Without seeing it for myself, I could not say.
Think about my offer. If you are willing to sell it at a more reasonable price,
call me. I bid you good day.”
“Thank you for your call, Jamail,” Cheber said, but the line
was already dead. He gazed at the smartphone in his hand and felt a wave of
disappointment wash over him. After talking to three jewelers in downtown
Jerusalem, each expressed the liveliest interest in the unusual crystal, and
all claimed it was not a gemstone. They couldn’t tell him what it was, but if
he wanted to sell, the highest offer he got was 8,200 shekels. They told him
the crystal would have to be cut into smaller pieces suitable for jewelry
ornaments. As a single piece, it was a curiosity, but not worth much. Cheber
expected to get a whole lot more, but he could not very well argue with
experts, albeit thieving ones, no doubt. He had seen the light of greed in
their eyes.
Real gem trading in Israel was done in Tel Aviv, and he was
tempted to go there to have the crystal examined, but he didn’t really have the
time. Besides, after all the associated travel expenses, he might not get a
better price. What he was sure to get was more of Alisa’s acerbic invective.
No, get rid of the thing, fill in the damned hole in the backyard and be done
with it.
“Where have you been?” Alisa demanded as he walked into the
kitchen.
He placed the wrapped crystal on the table and sat down.
“Having the thing appraised.”
“And?”
“We’d be lucky to get eight thousand for it.”
“Eight? Are you crazy? The thing is priceless!”
Wishing he had never stumbled on that hole, he looked at
her. “Maybe. I had a call from a dealer with whom Eran does business. He
offered me fifteen for everything: ossuaries, bones and the crystal.”
“He was trying to rob you.”
“Probably, but at least I now have a better idea what we can
expect to make if we sell. Twenty-five thousand shekels, if I can get that
much, would come very handy right now. And don’t forget the hole we have back
there. It will cost a couple of thousand at least to buy soil and gravel to fill
it.”
“The crystal alone must be worth more than twenty thousand.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. If you can sell it for that, go
ahead. I’m already sorry I found the damned thing. Right now, I want my lunch.”
She was about to snap at him when her expression changed.
Staring at him, she pushed back a lock of hair.
“What’s gotten into you, Cheber? Ever since you dug up that
crystal, you’ve been behaving very strangely.”
He stood, walked to the fridge and took out a carton of
mixed fruit juice. Pausing, he gazed at her, realizing she was right. He did
feel different, the pressing load of her smothering presence gone, and he
realized why.
“No, simply coming to my senses. It’s like this, Alisa. We
either start having a relationship or I walk, and you can keep the house. I
never wanted it, but I built it to please you and impress your circle of
friends. It’s a damn millstone and you’re welcome to it.”
“Did you expect me to live in an apartment, a crowded hovel?
I wanted—”
“I know what you wanted, but you never gave a thought to
what I wanted, and that was a wife, not a nagging critic. I always loved you,
and still do, but that love is no longer unconditional. I am not your doormat,
and I don’t want to be treated like one anymore.”
“You don’t know how to be a man.”
Her words cut deep and he leaned toward her. “Well, you’re
seeing him now. My lunch.”
“Get it yourself!” Cheeks pink, she whirled and stomped out.
Sighing, he nodded slowly a couple of times and got a glass
from the credenza. Filling it, he took a sip. She was right. He didn’t know how
to be a man. No, he merely kept that part of himself buried for the sake of her
love…a big mistake as it turned out.
He sniffed at a pot on the glass top cooker, lifted the lid
and peered at the meat stew inside. Fetching a plate and spoon from the
cupboard, he helped himself to a large portion, took it to the table, sat down
and began to eat, his mind going over what might have been, and of tomorrows
yet to be written. He would need to put out feelers for a job in Tel Aviv, he mused
as he worked his way through the tasty stew, the ashes of regrets falling
around him like dust. He had to say one thing; Alisa knew how to cook. He would
miss that.
Done, he washed the plate and spoon and took a last look
around the kitchen. It felt cold and alien. Pursing his lips, he made his way
upstairs and into the main bedroom. He dragged a battered cloth suitcase from
the walk-in robe and threw it on the bed. Hearing her footsteps, he looked up
as she walked in, stopping at the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.” Smiling wanly, Cheber shrugged. “There is nothing
left for me here.”
Silence rang in the room as she studied him.
“Not even Neta?”
“Don’t start that.”
He stood there, wondering what was going through her mind.
“You did it to yourself,” she said after a while, eyes
bright.
He nodded wearily. “I know.”
“I despised you because I thought you were a weakling.”
“You wanted someone to dominate you?”
“I wanted a man!”
“You wanted everything, Alisa, and I gave you everything to
keep your love, even my self-respect, but you wanted more. Well, there isn’t
any more. You took all I had. If you want more, you’ll have to take it from
some other man, otherwise it’s time you started giving something back.”
She pressed her lips, studying him. After a time, she
nodded.
“I deserve that, I suppose. Are you prepared to give me some
time?”
“No,” he said harshly and felt something tear inside him.
Alisa!
“You should have stood up to me earlier, Cheber.”
“Perhaps it’s too late, but I’m standing up to you now.”
“I don’t know if I can change. It might be too late for both
of us.”
“That will be your choice.”
“What about Neta? This would rip her apart.”
“You think she doesn’t know what’s going on?” He allowed his
arms to hang at his side. “She’ll be hurt, but this is about you and me and
where we go from here…if we’re going to have a future. We are either husband
and wife having a relationship, sharing everything, or we are two strangers
living a lie, and I don’t want a stranger in my bed anymore.”
Her eyes glistened and a fat tear rolled down her left
cheek. Seeing her distress, he wanted to rush to her, embrace her, whisper
tender things and kiss away the pain, but he simply stood there. She was very
good at playing the psychological warfare game and had pulled the sob routine
more than once…and he had always given in. He could not afford to give in this
time, even as it tore him up to see her anguish. She had to choose the path she
wanted to tread, together or separately. He had trod her path long enough.
Sniffing, she wiped her cheek. “This will take time…my
husband.”
“No,” he said gruffly and swallowed hard. “Decide now,
Alisa.”
Lips trembling, she bit her lip. “I don’t know if I can.”
Exhaling loudly, he nodded. “Draw up whatever papers you
want and I’ll sign them.”
She gaped. “You are divorcing me?”
He opened the suitcase and shrugged. “I guess I am.”
Crying openly, she took a tentative step toward him. “Don’t
leave me.”
“I don’t want to, but you haven’t given me any reason to
stay.”
“Even if I told you I love you?”
He snorted with disdain. She had played that card more than
once and the words sounded just as hollow now. He would not allow himself to be
manipulated anymore, or let her take what pride he had left.
“Love? I don’t know if you’re capable of it.”
“Cheber! I want you.”
Looking at her wet cheeks, the tragic expression on her
face, realizing that a single act would irrevocably change the shape of their
lives, he was tempted to give in again. His heart ached for her, but she had
bruised it too badly and he did not want to risk more pain. Despite everything,
could they make it work?
“Even though my love is conditional?”
“Because it is.”
“Come here,” he said gruffly.
With a cry of relief, she was in his arms and he kissed her
hard. Her mouth opened and their tongues danced. After a time, she pulled back
and wiped back tears. Smiling, she ran a hand through his hair.
“Wow. It’s been a while since you kissed me like that.”
“We need to practice more,” he growled, and his mouth found
hers.
“I always loved it when you were strong and manly,” she
whispered tenderly, smiling into his eyes.
“The old me is back again…for keeps.”
His smartphone trilled and he pulled away from her. He brushed
her cheek and dug the cell from his pocket.
“Cheber Shaken.”
“Mr. Shaken, this is Acaph Yaron. I would very much like to
see you and discuss your find. Would three o’clock be convenient?”
He glanced at his wristwatch. It was already after two. “I don’t
know if I can get to the Old City by then, Mr. Yaron.”
“You misunderstand. I want to come and see you.”
Cheber slowly nodded a couple of times. The old boy
certainly seemed keen, which was promising.
“I look forward to it.”
“I heard,” Alisa said as he pocketed the cell. “It
sounds…encouraging.”
“Not as encouraging as what we started,” he said and pulled
her against him.
“The garden…” she mumbled against his lips.
“You are my garden.”
Wow! Definitely a riveting read here!
Purchase Links:
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CreateSpace: https://www.createspace.com/6393108
Here is a trailer about all of Stefan's political thrillers:
Thanks for letting us know all about your new release, Stefan! This sounds like a fascinating political drama!
About the Author:
Stefan
Vucak has written eight Shadow Gods Saga sci-fi novels, which includes With
Shadow and Thunder, a 2002 EPPIE finalist, and six contemporary political
drama books. He started writing science fiction while still in college, but
didn’t get published until 2001. His Cry of Eagles won the
coveted 2011 Readers’ Favorite silver medal award, and his All the
Evils was the 2013 prestigious Eric Hoffer contest finalist and Readers’
Favorite silver medal winner. Strike for Honor won the gold medal.
Stefan
leveraged a successful career in the Information Technology industry, which
took him to the Middle East working on cellphone systems. He applied his IT
discipline to create realistic storylines for his books. Writing has been a
road of discovery, helping him broaden his horizons. He also spends time as an
editor and book reviewer. Stefan lives in Melbourne, Australia.
Stefan
Vucak has written eight Shadow Gods Saga sci-fi novels, which includes With
Shadow and Thunder, a 2002 EPPIE finalist, and six contemporary political
drama books. He started writing science fiction while still in college, but
didn’t get published until 2001. His Cry of Eagles won the
coveted 2011 Readers’ Favorite silver medal award, and his All the
Evils was the 2013 prestigious Eric Hoffer contest finalist and Readers’
Favorite silver medal winner. Strike for Honor won the gold medal.
Author Links:
Website: www.stefanvucak.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/StefanVucak
Twitter: https://twitter.com/StefanVucak
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Stefan-Vucak/e/B005CDD1RY/
Stefan's Books:
Stefan's Books:
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