Jehovah

Prologue

Iraq, 2007

A five-truck convey pulled swiftly out of the Iraqi Museum of Antiquities just as the sun started to appear over the desert horizon. It moved quickly through the streets of Baghdad towards the outskirts of the city hoping to avoid the early morning traffic jam of animals, carts, and broken-down cars. Their destination was a small village north of the town, and they wanted to be back safely before sundown. Every marine in the vehicles was on alert and observing the crowd for insurgents as they made their way through the curvy streets. The only person not looking out the window was a civilian passenger riding in the back seat between two marines, utterly oblivious to her surroundings.

Joselyn McDowell was intently studying the file in her lap while simultaneously trying to keep the papers in order as her Humvee hit every pothole and bump in the street. Dressed in tactical gear that felt heavy on her small frame and a helmet that hid most of her braided, auburn hair, she tried to concentrate despite the less than smooth drive. As a graduate intern at the Iraqi Museum, she felt excited by the prospect of what she would hopefully see today. A find like this, if authenticated, could solidify her future career; if the intelligence was correct. That feeling alone felt like electricity running through her veins. The marine sergeant in charge of her escort, Sergeant West, sat to her right and momentarily stopped his observation of the crowd to ask her some questions.

"So, what exactly are we after today, ma'am?"

Joselyn did not look up from her papers as she answered. "From what I can tell, it is a document page over three thousand years old written in ancient Hebrew. It was housed in the museum vault before the invasion and has been missing since 2003. I don't think it was ever on display. And please don't call me ma'am. Josie works just fine", she said, her professional tone ending with a flash of sarcasm. Sergeant West hid his smirk as he posed his next question.

"Why is an old page such an important find that the museum would not even display it? That doesn't make sense."

"I have been working on translating the script from the photograph the curator took before the theft, and it seems to be directions for finding something called the Mouthpiece of Jehovah. If you believe the legend, the mouthpiece was a breastplate that the high priests of Israel wore to communicate with God, but no one has seen it or written of it since Babylon conquered the Jews. If the museum records are correct, this page is dated after it disappeared, but it is only one page out of who knows how many. If someone went to the trouble of stealing this one page, they must be on the hunt for the plate. If that plate fell into the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic."

"Why? If it is just a metal plate, why would that be such a big deal?"

Joselyn looked up at her escort, "It was rumored to have divine powers that if misused could be used as a weapon. No one's quite sure what it's made of, so it's anyone's guess at this point."

The sergeant nodded and looked back out the window, but his mind was still on his civilian passenger. She was at least a few years younger than him but mature for her age. Her loaned tactical gear made her seem even smaller by the sheer bulk of it. Her auburn hair was braided down her back under her helmet, and he noticed the click of a tongue ring when she spoke. That had surprised him, but that was what their generation was into these days. He had met her the evening before at the mission briefing and was surprised at her maturity and ease with the Marine Force Recon team assigned to escort her. Granted, he had begrudgingly accepted this "babysitting" duty, but at least she was competent and not some brainless academic out of her depth. He had noticed the familiar relationship between her and his commanding officer, but he had not put it together until after introductions that this intern was also the commander's daughter. The pieces all slipped into place at least in his mind. General McDowell was in charge of assisting the Iraqi's with retrieving their stolen artifacts before they could be sold on the black market, and of course, he had arranged for his daughter to receive an internship at the museum during his tour. What had surprised the sergeant the most was that this girl was not just some pretty-faced academic but intelligent, fluent in several languages, and entirely at ease with the soldiers around her. All products of being raised as a marine brat. He still thought that assigning a Force Recon unit a bit much, but what the general wanted, the general got.

The squad leader was still analyzing his thoughts when a commotion over the radio snapped him to attention. They were just outside of Baghdad heading north when an explosion in front of the first vehicle brought the entire convoy to a halt. Joselyn looked up in alarm but did not express outward panic and looked to her escort for information. The marines scrambled out of the Humvee and took cover behind their doors. The sergeant spoke to his passenger while keeping his eyes on their surroundings.

"Stay calm. It may be nothing but an old IED that never detonated, but we are still going to be cautious. Stay where you are and keep quiet." Joselyn attempted to argue, but his gaze nailed her to her spot, "Stay here!"

The words were hardly out of his mouth when they started taking fire from somewhere in front of the convoy. Joselyn kept her head down and between the rifle shots she heard the marines call for reinforcements. Joselyn crouched in the back of the Humvee trying to keep calm when suddenly everything went quiet. It was several seconds before she heard whistling coming from beneath her. She looked at the sergeant in a panic as he hauled her out of the vehicle before the IED detonated. The blast of the explosion flung them both several feet from the car. The sergeant found himself on his back, vision blurry but otherwise not in much pain. He sat up quickly, grabbed his M4, and looked around swiftly. He spotted her about fifteen feet away lying face down in the sand, the red braid showing under her helmet instantly telling him it was her. He crawled and scrambled his way to her within seconds, the other marines forming a perimeter and waiting for the chopper reinforcements they could hear in the distance. He placed two fingers on her neck and swore under his breath when he found a pulse. He carefully rolled her over. She was completely unconscious, but she had a pulse. The sergeant sighed in relief until he saw a pool of blood growing underneath her left shoulder and pieces of shrapnel protruding from her arm. He swore loudly this time as he yelled into his radio for a medevac chopper.