Jehovah

Chapter One

Virginia, 7 Years Later

Connor West combed his wet, light-brown hair back before straightening his tie in the mirror. He had been out in the field monitoring his team's exercises when he got a phone call that the brass wanted to talk to him. The word 'brass' made him swear in Creole with his boss's secretary on the phone, which he promptly apologized for before hanging up. A meeting with the brass meant wearing a suit and tie and keeping his opinions to himself. At the height of just over six feet and stocky, muscular build, Connor looked well put together when he dressed in a suit. He had let his hair grow a little longer on top, but he kept the sides cut close to the skin. Paired with almost constant scruff on his chin, Connor knew he personified the "bad-boy" look that had women flirting with him when he did manage to find time for a social life. Considering how rare an occurrence that was, Connor never gave his looks much thought. He checked his reflection once more to make sure his razor got everything off his face before leaving the bathroom muttering, "Damn suit!"

His boss's secretary gave him a wry smile when he walked into the office before ushering him into the conference room. His boss, James Whitaker, was the head of the Defense Threat Reduction Agency based out of Fort Belvoir, Virginia. James was talking to the Secretary of Defense, Mr. Taylor, when Connor walked in and stopped as soon as they noticed him. James stepped up and shook his hand, "McConnor, come in and have a seat."

Connor could feel the tension in the room as he sat. The fact that his boss's boss's boss was in on this meeting spoke volumes, but before anything could be said, the door opened, and a man in an Army uniform walk in to join them. Connor turned to see his old friend, Sergeant Major Clark Fagan, stepped in. Clark walked immediately to Connor.

"Connor, how have you been," Clark asked as he shook his hand.

"I've been doing alright, how 'bout yourself," Connor's Cajun accent coming through roughly as he asked the question.

"I've been doing okay, staying busy."

The two men sat down as Mr. Taylor cleared his throat. He opened a folder and slid it across the table in front of Connor. "Now that the pleasantries are over let's get down to business. Mr. West, I have read through your file, and I am led to believe that you have seen the object in this photograph before." Connor picked up the picture and studied it. It did look vaguely familiar, but he could not place from where and said as much.

"Think back seven years to your last mission in Iraq."

Connor's mind flashed back to the Humvee convoy and the aftermath of that last IED. He brought his mind back to present when he realized that Mr. Taylor was waiting for an answer. "Yes sir, I believe I remember."

"Good. Now the reason we are having this briefing today is that a volatile situation has occurred in the Middle East as of a few days ago. That page in the picture is the same page you were looking for back in 2007. Our intelligence, provided by Sgt. Fagan, now says that ISIS has located this particular page and is searching for the others."

Connor shook his head and scoffed under his breath. "You are worried about ISIS having a page from some three-thousand-year-old book? What in the hell does it matter if terrorists have some antique book?"

James Whitaker cleared his throat, "There was a theft this morning at the Jerusalem Museum. Now I'm sure you are wondering what this has to do with the price of tea in China. The answer is that this museum housed another page from the same document, in a secure vault that supposedly no one knew about."

"ISIS stealing pages from an ancient book is hardly a reason to send our department into the Middle East. Send in the cowboys from Langley."

Clark leaned forward, "Connor, do you remember what these pages lead to?"