Chosen (13 page)

“Both, I think,” Ridge said nonchalantly, heading toward a certain beautiful blonde in heels.

On the third verse, Sam moved aside to let Ridge stand between him and Alexana. Ridge joined in singing, sneaking a peek at Alexana. The service progressed quickly; afterward, the group began to move toward waiting taxis.

“Can you both come to brunch with us?” Alexana asked Ridge, including Steve in her invitation.

“Press usually isn’t invited to shindigs like that,” Steve said, who had joined them after the service.

“Oh, I think the ambassador would be happy to have you. You’d probably just need to check that camera at the door.”

“No way,” Steve protested. “I don’t go anywhere my camera isn’t wanted.”

“Then I’ll meet up with you later,” Ridge said to him, without taking his eyes off the woman in front of him.

“Sure,” Steve said easily. “Happy Easter, Dr. Roarke.”

“Happy Easter, Steve,” Alexana said. “If you change your mind …”

“Yeah, I know where to find you.”

Sam Sr. took to Ridge in much the same way Robert Hoekstra had, pulling him aside and filling him in on his current dig. Against her wishes, Alexana found herself lost in a crowd of old friends and political allies, talking about her own upcoming dig. She found it hard to extricate herself, and it was two hours before she was finally able to look up her father and Ridge.

Spotting Samuel and Ridge on a garden bench, she poured two cups of punch and took them outside. Pleased, both men accepted their beverages.

“Your dad has just been telling me about his dig at Tel Dan,” Ridge told her. “It sounds as intriguing as Caesarea.”

“But not as intriguing as what that daughter of mine has going in Jerusalem,” the jovial man said.

“Papa is always somewhere interesting,” Alexana informed Ridge. “Have you two eaten?”

Ridge nodded. “We grabbed a plate on the way out. But we’ve
been too absorbed in our conversation to go for seconds. How about you?”

“A bite here and there. I was talking too much to put food in my mouth. Think I’ll just grab a sandwich at home.” Her eyes invited his next question.

Ridge took his cue. “Are you heading out?”

“In a moment,” Alexana said. “I just want to thank our host, and then I have some work to do. We begin in three days!”

Alexana’s brother came up behind her. “Three days! I wanted a vacation before we started!”

She laughed. “Then take it now, big brother, ’cause we’ve got a window of opportunity I can’t pass up.”

“She’s a tough trail boss,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow at Ridge as if in warning.

“Thatta girl,” her father said, reaching out to pinch her cheek. “You know where to find me if you need some extra help.”

“Thanks, Papa. Happy Easter,” she said, embracing him fondly.

“And to you, too, my girl. Nothing like a fine Easter day and a look at his children to make a man happy.”

“You know you could see us more often,” Sam chided him.

“I know it. I get so involved on site, it’s tough to leave.”

“As always,” Alexana ribbed him.

“I hear you, my girl. I hear you. Your mother would have my hide if she were here to take it.”

“Just know that we’d like seeing more of you, Pops,” Sam said.

“I’ll work on it, Sam. Now you two be good. And Ridge, it was good to meet you. Take care of that daughter of mine.”

Alexana’s eyes grew wide, then she scowled at his comment. “I don’t need some hotshot reporter to take care of me,” she announced
primly, turning away and moving toward the ambassador’s wife.

Ridge turned to her smiling father. “Don’t worry,” he said conspiratorially. “I’ll take care of her.”

As Ridge and Alexana stepped out of a taxi outside the Damascus Gate, a second car drove by with a man hanging out the window, Uzi in hand. Lifting his arm, he sprayed the air above them with bullets. Around them, women screamed and people scattered as Ridge pushed Alexana down behind the taxi.

The gunman drove away, tires squealing.

Still inside, the taxi driver snickered quietly as the taxi motor purred.

Ridge rose, angry. “That was funny?”

There was no laughter in the man’s eyes. “Consider that a warning,” he said, looking not at Ridge, but at Alexana. “Hamas will not tolerate a Jewish plot to destroy our holy mosque.”

Her eyes narrowed as she realized that the driver was a part of the attacking party. “It’s not a plot! The dig is purely academic!” She brushed herself off, ignoring the rip in her skirt. She took a deep breath, refusing to sound defensive. “I only intend to study the passageway and stairs. In fact, I plan to strengthen the foundation.”

The driver laughed again sardonically. “You will not be warned again, Alexana Roarke. You have been a friend to many Palestinian nationals, but you are now a pawn of the Jews.”

Ridge moved to grab the man, fury plainly written on his face, but Alexana stopped his hand. “Wait! Let me take care of this.” She turned back to the driver. “Tell Khalil al Aitam that I will be willing to talk with him at any time,” she said calmly, hoping to bring a measure of control into the crazy situation. “I will dig, but I want it to
be under peaceful circumstances. Abdallah al Azeh himself will be overseeing the process.”

“Abdallah al Azeh is a fool,” the driver spat out, then sped away, leaving black skid marks on the golden limestone street.

A
lexana turned and strode angrily through the gate, burning with fury that someone should attack her. Ridge ran to catch up.

“You’re not thinking of moving forward with the dig,” he began.

“I most certainly am,” she said, pausing to pull off a broken heel, then tossing both shoes in a nearby trash can.

She walked on, barefoot, and Ridge smiled in spite of himself as he watched her plod ahead. “Leave it to you, McIntyre, to fall in love with a pigheaded archaeologist,” he mumbled.

“Don’t you see,” he tried as he caught up with her again, “that this is what Shehab was talking about? They
honestly
see your work as a threat to their precious mosque. You’re in danger! Your whole team is! I bet the only reason those bullets went above your head and not into it was because of Khalil.”

“Khalil told me himself that he could not protect me. In fact, he was probably the one who sent the gunman to warn me. The nerve!” She turned to walk again, flushed with anger.

Ridge grabbed her arm. “Alexana. Perhaps they have reason to expect a Jewish plot.”

Alexana stopped struggling and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that I have heard about the Temple Mount Faithful, or Kahane. From you. From others. You know as well as I do that
they want the Temple Mount back. Your excavation would give them a prime opportunity. Are you absolutely sure that Abba Eban is not a part of—or at least sympathetic to—their group?”

She pulled him toward a nearby wall in an attempt to speak privately. “What are you saying?” she said angrily. “That my dig
is
all a Jewish plot?”

“At least consider it! You’re a smart woman! Think it through.”

“Nonsense!” Alexana sputtered. “Approval to dig comes simply as a result of the peace process. This is an unprecedented opportunity. I will not believe that it’s all because of some crazy plan to blow up the Temple Mount. There’s going to be Waksf soldiers all around us—
us,
a bunch of nerdy archaeologists. How could we possibly tear down such a massive structure?”

“You plan to excavate the stairs behind the Triple and Double Gates. Once you get in, a well-placed bomb …” Ridge suggested.

“McIntyre! Ridge!” Steve Rains hurried up to them, favoring one side as he lugged the weight of his ever-present camera. “I heard there was gunfire. Do you want to film a report?”

Ridge grimaced, but nodded. “Will you wait here?” he asked Alexana.

She looked away: angry, confused, and lost in thought.

“I’ll be right back,” Ridge told her. “I’m going to have to make you part of the report,” he warned. “I’m sorry, but it’s my job.”

“Whatever,” she said noncommittally.

“I’ll be right back,” he repeated, then joined Steve outside the Damascus Gate. “Let’s keep it short,” he said, gathering his thoughts.

“Righto.” Steve held several fingers in front of the camera. “In three, two, one …”

“Easter has heightened the religious tension that plagues
Jerusalem,” Ridge said into the camera. “Between the thousands of pilgrims in the city for the Christian Holy Week, the Muslim fasting period of Ramadan, and Passover, the emotions of all three major religious groups have reached a fever pitch. Last week, a known member of the Kahane led a group in overtaking an entire city block in the Christian quarter, owned at the time by a Palestinian.

“This week, gunfire continues to erupt in and outside the city, this morning just outside the Damascus Gate, which you see behind me,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. “The apparent target: archaeologist Alexana Roarke, leader of the proposed Solomon’s Stables dig under the Temple Mount, which is scheduled to begin this week. Miraculously, no one was injured. One can only hope that as spring fades into summer, emotions will settle. From Jerusalem on Easter Sunday, this is Ridge McIntyre, CNN.”

“… and cut.”

“Great, Steve. Thanks for coming out. Now, I’ve got to get back to Alexana …”

But when he turned, she was gone.

Alexana looked up to see Ridge standing in her doorway, his face a mask of concern. It was obvious that her apartment had been ransacked. Inside, the furniture had been turned upside down, the pictures pulled from the walls. Her filing cabinet had been emptied, leaving her paperwork scattered.

“Alexana?” he asked. His face registered fear when he did not see her right away. “Alexana?” he called, louder.

“I’m here,” she said meekly, staring at him in a daze from her place on the stairs.

His face relaxed when he spotted her. Quickly, he went to her
and pulled her into his arms. “Are you okay? Was there anyone here?”

“No. They were long gone,” Alexana mumbled. She rested one hand on his chest and closed her eyes, drawing comfort from his proximity and the feel of his strong arms around her.

Ridge stared over her head to the wall beyond, spray-painted with red Arabic lettering. “What does it say, Sana?” he asked gently.

She shut her eyes again, wishing away the words that were embedded in her head. “It’s just an idle threat.”

“What does it say?” he insisted.

Alexana swallowed and moved away from him. “Enter the Haram and you will die,” she translated, willing her voice to sound confident, uncaring. She bent down and shuffled through several stacks of drawings that had been slashed. As she expected, her Solomon’s Stables pictures and notes had been taken.

She looked up at Ridge. “Don’t worry, al Azeh called. The dig is temporarily on hold. He said he’s worried about my safety and that of the team, as well as the ramifications. He wants to wait a couple of weeks, let it all die down.”

Ridge took a deep breath. “I know this is crushing news to you, but I can’t help but feel relief that you won’t be taking on Hamas this week.”

“Your report won’t help me to get the dig back on track,” she said, beginning to fume as the shock wore off.

Ridge’s eyes grew wide as understanding dawned. “Is that why you left? What did you expect me to do? Not tell what I know? I’m a reporter, Alexana. I told you I’d have to mention you. I was right in the middle of a terrorist warning toward one of the most prominent archaeologists in Israel. What should I do with that information?”

Alexana ignored his explanation. “I knew I shouldn’t get involved with a journalist …”

“Whoa!” Ridge protested. “Wait a minute! If you’re suggesting that I’m using you somehow …”

“Maybe you should leave.” She stared stonily at him. “I have a lot to do around here, and I don’t feel like company anymore.”

Ridge’s mouth dropped slightly. His eyebrows knit together. He seemed unwilling to leave, but Alexana’s expression invited no argument.

“Fine,” he said angrily. “Good-bye, Alexana. Happy Easter.” He maneuvered his way out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Alexana sank to her knees and gave in to the tears she had not wanted him to see.

The next morning Alexana was trying to calm her brother down over the phone when she heard a knock at the door. She opened it to find Ridge waiting hopefully with an armful of flowers.

Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, Alexana waved him into her tiny home, which had been set more or less to rights. She took the flowers from him with a half smile and motioned for him to sit down on the couch.

“No, Sam. I can’t do that. Hey, if they wanted me dead, they could have had me yesterday. It was a warning, that’s it.” She crossed her eyes at Ridge, letting him know that his report had gotten her into trouble.

Ridge smiled sheepishly at the playful sign.

“No. No!” Alexana protested into the phone. “Sam, when we get
the go-ahead again—and we
will
get it—you’ll be around to help. We’ll discuss it then. Things can radically change in a week around here. You know that.”

She listened for several seconds, then said, “Fine. I understand your concern. Tell Papa I won’t do anything he wouldn’t do. And leave me alone until I call you.”

She hung up the phone, sighed, and turned to face Ridge. “Look, let me say that I overreacted yesterday. I know you were just doing your job.”

Ridge shook his head. “I’m sorry it had to involve you … and that I obviously got you into hot water with Sam.”

Alexana laughed. “He’s just overdoing the big brother bit. He’ll get over it.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Ridge ventured.

She eyed him warily. “About what?”

“I’d guess that he’s attempting to talk you out of excavating the Stables.”

“If he were in his right mind, he wouldn’t even try,” Alexana said stiffly. She tried to sound confident. “Everything will be fine. The city just needs some time to cool off.”