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The Golem Code: A Thriller By Gerald Rothberg
And it was Evening and it
was Morning. Day One
Chapter 1
When Montana Greene awoke that morning a vaporous fog
had rolled in on
“Professor Augsburg collapsed at the
“Is he OK?”
“I’m sorry. He’s … dead.”
“I see. Oh, my God. ”
“Were you with him last night? Police
will want to talk to you,“ Shooter said.
“Wouldn’t I have called the police, if I were with him?”
“They might suspect you.” Shooter’s voice was slow, and deliberate.
“Of what?”
“Of a crime?”
“What crime?”
“Professor Augsburg died running towards the cemetery gates. We need to
talk. Be ready as fast as you can.” Shooter disconnected.
The chill in the studio apartment followed
To his therapists and psychiatrist who prescribed Ritalin, the young
“I’m aware most of you need to fulfill the requirements for your degree. I
know many of you considered this course an easy A,” he had told the class.
“Be that as it may, we’ve begun to learn, to study, to delve into the
mysteries, the theories and practices of Kabbalah.”
He had looked around the sea of
students in front of him, many dressed in shoddy blue jeans, with unruly
hair, slouching in their chairs.
Pausing to check his seating chart
“Jeffers. Yes, you. Let’s review basics.” At first, several students
chuckled.
“Abra kadabrah,” Jeffers had responded.
“Exactly. And what does that phrase mean?”
“It is a Hebrew phrase. I will create as I speak.”
“Precisely.”
One well dressed female student had responded. “It is
“What does the term Kabbalah mean?”
“To receive,” she had replied.
“And how many paths of wisdom are there? Hoffman.”
“Thirty-two.”
“In your learned opinion what notion is central to Kabbalistic tradition?
Bel-Hart.”
She had hesitated,
allowing him time to let his eyes rein in on her. The night before at
dinner, yes he was brazen enough to ask her out, she had tossed out the
following: “Do you think we could become lovers?”
The timber of her voice, warm and musical had told him all he had desired,
until they would meet again in
“Excellent. … Now Jeffers.
How
many spheres of consciousness?”
“Ten.”
“And what are these called?”
“Sefirot.”
“Which “Sefirah, designates sexuality? Jeffers put away your laptop. You
should know the answer instinctively.”
Laughter was loud. The class bell rang.
When Montana Greene hit the street from his apartment on
“Good morning Professor Greene.” The
driver was young with prerequisite crew cut hair, and a prominent acne
pimple on his forehead.
“Not yet a professor, but thanks for the compliment.”
“My condolences on your loss.”
“Your thoughts will be appreciated by
many in the academic world.”
“Really?”, the young driver asked.
“The what?”
The driver ignored a street light, revved the engine and ran the LED
number on the accelerator dial on his dashboard.
“I don’t know that word.”
“Slow down cowboy. Did you say something you ought not?”
“This is my first day, sir, on
the job.
I’m supposed to drive
you to the embassy. That’s it. I was trying to be friendly. I know you
received shocking news this morning. Anyway it’s not my place to talk. Maybe
that‘s my problem. I’m a talker. You know it get’s lonely.”
“I understand. I’m a teacher, you
know. Most of my students are your age. You don’t need to feel remorse
talking with me.”
Chapter 2
In the bowels of the
Jimmy Strawberry sat in a motorized wheel chair behind a large mahogany desk
and carefully dipped ashes from his Monte Christo in a Bohemian crystal
ashtray, with the seal of the CIA in its center and demanded of his brawny
aide, “Tell me good news.”
“Don’t have any, sir,” Shooter replied.
“Goddamnit.” The ashtray almost grazed Shooter’s cheek and crashed against a
partition behind him. Strawberry punched a button on his desk and the far
wall revealed a giant screen. On it was a map, with several countries
highlighted.
”Our man is Alfred Ivanchenko, former Russian Bio-warrior --alias Professor
Alfred Augsburg. We know he’s been working to stabilize a virus marked
TX10564149400 … as a weapon. Five weeks ago, cargo shipped from Marseille,
arrived in
Shooter stood military style in front of Strawberry. “Begging your pardon,
sir. “
“Yeah, what is it?”
“Professor Augsburg ... Ivanchenko ... is dead. He was murdered at midnight
in the
“Well, give it to me,” Strawberry said.
“The professor’s American protégé is on his way here.”
Strawberry was silent for a moment. “Let’s get up to my office.”
Shooter pushed the man in the wheel chair through the security exits on
their way upstairs, but then excused himself, telling Strawberry he’ll be at
the entrance to the embassy, waiting for
As the gray sedan pulled up to the
curb,
“Cool. Yeah. Sorry, I gave you a rough ride.”
”Shit happens,”
The driver nodded with a smile. “Nice meeting you, professor.”
“Good luck now.”
At the entrance to the embassy wind shook drops of rain from the eaves.
Visitors, many in yellow colored slickers struggled against a surging
current of air. A taxicab pulled up and a family of four jumped out with
cameras, snapping pictures.
“I’m Graham Shooter,”
“My books, personal items and stuff I carry around,”
Once inside the elaborate lobby, Shooter ordered, “Leave it here. It will
be scanned.”
At the top of the stairs, with Shooter leading the way, they marched down a
marble walled corridor to the fourth office. There was no sign on the
mahogany door. Shooter knocked with three jabs of a solid fist. They waited
a moment and entered when a voice called out, “Yeah come in.”
The room was painted a light green, florescent lighting hung from the high
ceiling, and the only furniture, was a metal table for a desk, another table
against a wall, with small piles of government manuals, and a picture of the
President of the United States with an American flag above.
Behind the make-shift desk, a huge window overlooked the lush green,
sculpted garden in the courtyard below. The man in the chromium wheel chair,
with rubber tires like mountain bike wheels was heavy set with a wavy full
head of white hair.
Shooter
stood by the door.
“My expert is here now. Got to go.”
Jimmy Strawberry hung up the phone and extended a large hand. “I trust your
ride was comfortable.”
“I want a crash course on the Golem of Prague,” Strawberry said, pointing to
Strawberry voice sounded gruff to
“Yup. Our guys looked up the
legend about the rabbi in the sixteenth century who formed this human-like
figure from mud near the
“What about Professor Augsburg? You wanted to see me, pronto.”
“What puzzles is why a
“I didn’t know that,”
Strawberry leaned forward. “You’re withholding information!”
“What?”
“You heard me. What the hell are you keeping from me?”
“You’re losing me,” said a startled
“I’m looking for facts.”
“Your aide told me on the phone you guys wanted to see me right away. That’s
the reason I’m here.”
Strawberry studied
Shooter heard this story from Strawberry earlier, and told his boss he
doubted tossing the remark at
Strawberry shook his head up and down as if a new thought shot through.
He had mastered intimidation with calculated moves, the kinds you’d
learn in acting class. Strawberry’s moves were intuitive; his mantra,
“there’s no time to think twice, don’t let an opponent get an advantage.”
Jimmy Strawberry lived with a health care aide, in a well-kept new apartment
along the
“Some water. Anything?” Shooter approached.
“No, thanks,“
Strawberry was relentless. “Who is the woman you had dinner with in
“We’re here to help. Don’t let the
questions get to you. Are you sure I can’t get you a bottle of water?”
Shooter whispered.
“I ‘m getting a not so good feeling.
This isn’t a trial, Kafka style. Is it?” The metaphoric punch in the gut
“Graham, that’s what you call me,” Shooter replied. “
Strawberry studied
“What the hell is this about? You
tell me, Mr. Strawberry. And don’t give me bullshit about Kabbalah or the
Golem.
OK?”
“Things happen for a reason,”
Strawberry said in a low voice
“Do they?”
“You’re the Kabbalah expert.”
“So, I am.”
“Well, I hoped you could give us more of a four-one-one on the Golem
project that this fellow is involved in. Your Professor Augsburg and his
research we believe was funded by Abu al-Khalil, the tycoon from
“Mr. Strawberry, … “.
“
“You know Professor Augsburg was my teacher. I studied with him to complete
a doctoral program.”
“I understand,” said the man in the wheel chair. “Did you know,
“The what?”
Finally, Strawberry said, “Good day and thanks for your time.”
”That’s it?”
“Shooter tells me you’ll delay your flight to
“I will what?”
“And I appreciate that. We’ll need you later today, after I check out more
information on this Golem and your professor. I assure you, we’ll meet
shortly.”
When they left, Strawberry pressed a button on a phone connected to
Shooter’s earpiece, “I shook him up him. Didn’t I? ” Graham Shooter kept a
poker face and marched with
“Thanks. You have a pleasant day too,”
“He gave you a rough time. Listen,
Strawberry is like that.” Shooter said as they stood outside.
A bright red Corvette pulled up to the embassy. The same kid with a pimple
on his forehead who drove
“Where are you taking me?”
“Wherever you want to go.”
“This isn’t government issue,” Shooter said.
“I didn’t think it was,”
The car was Shooter’s pride and joy. He didn’t have kids and wasn’t married,
and being stationed in
The rains stopped. The red ‘Vette linked up with patches of persistent fog
as they drove off.
To give
“Why was Strawberry searching for a corrupt link between
“Look, my job was to get you embassy. Strawberry took over from that point.”
“Where to?” Shooter asked as they drove away from the embassy area.
“The Saloon, at the Hotel U Prince.”
“On
“No, I’m just looking forward to a drink.”
“It’s early in the day. Isn’t it?”
“Yup. It is,”
The episode at the embassy was beginning to unplug, as a replay of
Strawberry’s remarks imploded on
But this internal monologue took a sharp turn and he began to fixate on the
night they had dined, before he had gone off to
That evening in
At dinner, she had seemed very much as she had appeared in class: elegant,
spirited an auburn haired beauty in her late thirties.
“Do you go out to dinner with your students, often?” she had asked, resting
her fingers on her shoulder length hair. He had watched her every movement,
her gorgeous figure in a black silk pant suit, and had been intoxicated by
the smell of vanilla that had surrounded her hair as she tilted her head
awaiting his answer. “Thanks for being my student,” he had answered. From
there, the conversation was fluid as they had each revealed bits of their
personal biography, Miriam a mid-west daughter of music teacher parents and
also an only child; he as a teenager attempted forming a rock ‘n roll band.
“Did you have long hair, tattoos? Did you wear mascara on your eye lids?
Let’s see I remember of friend in high school who loved Guns n’
Roses.
Did you?” she had asked
him.
“Are you mocking my taste in music
…
at that time?”
“Oh, no. Not at all.
I’m teasing,
because you’re so different now. A scholar. I can’t imagine you in a band,
let alone a rock band.”
“Well, to answer some of your questions … no I didn’t wear mascara. I don’t
have any tattoos, and I was also reading Alan Ginsburg at the time.”
He was remembering how small he had felt for not rolling with her punches.
But her smile, her allure, her story telling abilities, the way she had
tilted her head and had run her fingers through her hair, had overpowered
him. Or maybe it was a couple of glasses of Saint Emilion that had done the
trick, he was thinking.
Miriam had shifted toward a fuller disclosure of her biography. “My
great-grandparents came here from
He told her about his parents’ divorce and moving in with his grandfather
and his education at
His spine had stung the way a spine
would sting when one is up against a forward, but alluring remark and
“You have steadfast big brown eyes,” she had said. “I love that.”
He nodded and sighed, taking another sip of wine. “Nobody has ever told me
that.”
“I asked you earlier, if perhaps we could become lovers. I have a mentor. A
business man. He spends most of his time creating research labs all over
“Was he the guy in the limousine?”
“You noticed him. He had to rush off. I’m sure he would have liked to meet
you.”
“I’m sure.”
“He’s not glamorous at all. Just a banker type. I suppose, because he owns a
great yacht, often when we travel we don’t bother with hotels.”
“Be careful. You might become a snob,”
She smiled. “I’ve become spoiled. Little Miss Bel-Hart from
When
“What do you mean?”
“Your driver is at the reservation desk.”
“I’ll tell him to leave. You’ll escort me home,” she had said and had walked
over to the driver.
“The party isn’t over, ” Miriam said as she had returned to the table.
“Not until the fat lady sings. Let’s have some champagne,”
The bartender placed her drink in front of her and went about his business,
straightening and wiping bottles of liquor on the mirrored wall behind the
bar. With air-conditioning just beginning to pump for the luncheon crowd,
the place still smelled of stale air, heavy wood and spilled wine.
Miriam Bel-Hart, her friends called her Miki wore a casual summer dress and
small tight jacket. Her face, unadorned, glowed with a faint touch of peach.
She sipped her Absinthe slowly. She would never walk into a bar alone in
Miki twirled her watch around her wrist, her thoughts floating, the diamonds
sparkling under the warm lights of the Saloon; she quickly pulled her sleeve
forward with her thumb, lifted her glass with her other hand letting the
aroma of the Absinthe fill her senses. Staring in the mirror in front of
her, Miki prayed she could make a friendly break with Abu. But after several
minutes, her wishes to flee Abu made no sense. She feared acknowledging ever
so faintly that Abu’s worldliness was a cover for a delusionary side to his
persona. Miki looked into her little glass with green liquid:
We all have
of a dark side, and frowned.
When she saw
“I’ve got lots to tell you. Let’s get a table,” he said. “It’s damn good to
see you.”
“The corner booth?” the bartender
asked.
“Yes, and a glass of Absinthe. Send it over with a fresh drink for
Mademoiselle.”
The bartender acknowledged with a nod.
The sat opposite and their hands touched immediately. Words weren’t
necessary at the moment. When the bartender arrived with the Absinthe, on a
round red tray,
“Goodness, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“I want so much to be with you,” he said.
“And I’m here.”
“I just got back from the U.S.
Embassy.”
“Is something terribly wrong?”
“They called to tell me Professor Augsburg is dead.”
“My God. Were you personally close to him?”
“Some guy called Shooter sent a car for me, and never filled me in with the
details.”
“I don’t understand. Darling, I’m so sorry.”
“Maybe the old man had a heart attack, I think. I don’t know.
“Didn’t they tell you how he died?”
“No. They suspect foul play. Would you believe?
What is it about her that
I instantly fall in love? he thought.
He proceeded to tell her everything -- how her name came up, their dinner a
couple of months back in
She sat motionless. Her green eyes
looked directly into his. “What did they tell you about al-Kahlil?”
Am I right about Abu’s erratic
behavior? What would happen if I confronted him? she thought for the
moment.
“Five bucks for your thoughts,” he
said.
“You’re supposed to offer a penny.”
“I was always a radical.”
She didn’t smile. “I wanted to be with you today. “
“And do you still want to be with me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“But?”
“But. I feel so goddamn angry with Abu.” Her eyes were on fire.
“Tell me,” he said.
“I think your problems might be heavier,” she said.
“Hey, this isn’t a contest about who’s in deeper shit.”
Finally, she smiled and
“Al-Kahlil?
I’ve told you he’s my
mentor.”
Gazing at him for several seconds, without enmity, she said softly, “You’re
indicting me with your looks. Everything about Abu and me is on the up and
up.”
“Why would a
“Why not?” she shrugged.
“I’m not trying to be cute,” he said.
“Nor I” she replied.
“You know I was rushed to the embassy this morning.”
“Are you accusing me of turning you in with officials there?”
“What are you talking about?”
She was frowning maybe in rebuke of her integrity,
“Miki, you’re not telling me something,”
“I’m sorry. What else do you have to say?”
she
asked.
He shrugged and shook his head. “I’ll need an American attorney.”
“I’ll call Abu. He has connections,”
she quickly interjected.
“That’s not a good idea.”
Looking past her, he noticed two policemen taking positions at the entrance
to the Saloon. His heart thumped. “Those two cops are guarding the entrance.
Something’s up. “We’re the only ones here.”
Miki turned to look. “Talk with Abu,” she said flatly. “Ask him why he
funded your professor’s research.”
“Are you missing something?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“The cops.”
“So? Darling, relax.”
He turned his attention back to her. “Why would they at the embassy want to
know about my classes on Kabbalah? Why would they spy on a dinner I had with
you?”
“Because of your professor’s association with Abu. And my connection with
Abu,” she replied.
“Anybody inquire of you?”
Miki shook her head, no. “I told you I once met the professor.” She looked
straight at him without a hesitation or a gasp that maybe an unholy trinity
was unfolding in front of his eyes.
“Where did you meet Professor
Augsburg?”
“At the Institute.”
“I never heard about the Institute before today?”
Miki shrugged. “Abu’s research company is here in
“The Biologic Technicon Institute?”
Strawberry never explained what that was about.
A lone figure approached the booth. “Herr Doktor Greene, yes?” an overweight
man asked. “I am Detective Havlec Ungerr with the
“We were just about to order lunch,”
“I’m sorry for the interruption. Please, this is a serious police matter.”
Turning to Miki, the detective said, “You must excuse us.”
“I didn’t introduce you,”
Detective Ungerr nodded and placed appropriate currency on the table.
The two exited the lounge. The policemen and Miki followed.
“And you were with him yesterday?”
the detective asked
“Yes,’’
“I’ll go with you,
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well then, I’ll follow in my car.”
“You don’t have to do this,”
“I want to,” she said.
Ungerr pointed to the back seat of the police sedan and slid in after
The police car pulled away, driving
for approximately seven minutes, and parked in front of a modernistic
hospital building.
“You’ll need to stay in
“I’m already planning to stay so my professor gets a proper burial.”
Ungerr looking grim smoothed a rain drop into the material of his jacket. He
lowered his head as if in prayer and pushed his voice to a low pitch. “Doktor
Greene. Your professor was murdered. Do you follow what I’m saying?”
The detective’s eyes roamed
“Everybody? I see.
“And what exactly was your area of study with Professor Augsburg?”
“Kabbalah and the Golem of
“I see. And your Professor Augsburg was an authority?”
First, the newbie who drove him to the embassy this morning,
“Did you meet with him at the Institute, in his laboratory for the study of
genetic viruses?” Ungerr fired away.
“Why is that?”
“I wasn’t aware of that part of his
career,”
A black van screeched to a stop in front of the police car and a man in a
wheel chair was hurriedly rolled down. Ungerr told
The man in the wheel chair introduced himself. “Strawberry, from the
The detective nodded. “Yes, my superior informed me of your request.”
Ungerr waved
“What the hell is happening?”
“They suspect you of murder,” Strawberry said calmly.
“Yeah. I was told it’s just a formality?”
“I believe you’re innocent.”
“That makes me feel a hell of a lot better.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. You were ready
to leave
“.Sorry you have to wait outside. But
you don’t have to be with me now,” he told Miki.
“I’m here because I want to be with you. Please accept that.” She studied
him as she often did in class, as if sensing the nakedness of his emotions.
“You’re a good girl, Miki Bel-Hart,” he said allowing his shoulders to relax
and crossed the street back to Strawberry.
They stopped midway down the long corridor, as a matronly woman with short
black hair, approached. “I am Dr. Vasilav, the medical examiner. Please put
on these masks, wear these gloves, please. It is a health precaution. Also,
these white coats. You too, Detective Ungerr.”
The group looked like surgeons, walking into an operating theater.
Dr. Vasilav, pulled a door handle, and a whoosh of cold air hit them. This
was the first time
“Is this Professor Alfred Augsburg?” the medical examiner asked.
“The world is a dangerous place,” said Dr. Vasilav.
“What about his belongings?”
“I will release personal belongings later today,” Ungerr said. “I will call
you. I have your cell number. You’re free to go”
“The body must be washed ritually,”
“We will be finished by eight o’clock, tonight,” Dr. Vassilav said.
“Just a moment,” Strawberry said. “The blood on his neck? What caused that?”
“A poisoned dart,” the medical examiner replied. “You’ll receive a full
report. The old man was running toward the cemetery gates when the dart
struck.”
The group left the morgue area. Strawberry told
“A question first,”
“I owe you that much,” Strawberry replied. “Give me a moment with the
detective.”
He walked briskly to the lobby and caught up with Miki. The fetid smell
still lingered in his nostrils, and he felt sickened.
“I’m not following. You sound angry,”
Miki said.
“I am angry.”
“You have every right to be.”
.”I’ll call you. We’ll catch up later. I‘m going to the embassy,” he said,
certain she noticed his eyes well up. She seemed to want him to say more,
but he maintained a silent stare.
“Promise me you’ll call,” she said.
“I promise,” he said.
`“Everything will be all right,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Remember, I’ll do anything to help. You can count on me.”
Tearfully, Miki finally said, “I mean
anything.” She wiped her eyes with
the backs of two fingers and lowered her eyes.
“This happens on my last day here. Last few hours. Bum turn of events. We
never know what’s around the corner, do we?”
“No, we never know what strange things can happen.” She rested her hand on
his. “If you need to get around Boris can help.”
“Who is Boris?” he asked Miki.
“My driver.”
“OK,” he assured her and let his hand slide from hers. He knew damn well not
to trust anybody outside the embassy, smiled and swiped her cheek with his
mouth. An unexpected segment was unfolding for
When he rejoined the group he looked back and saw Miki standing as if stage
center. He believed she knew he needed her support and wondered if Miki
understood him better than he knew himself. He was about to shout a word or
two of gratitude at her, but a tremor of fear struck with a determined
wallop throwing him into the cosmic black soup, the
tohu va-vohu of
the biblical narrative of Creation, the disorder before God ordered
stability into the ornery cosmos. Quickly he focused on the second emanation
of the Kabbalah Tree of Life, Chochma, Wisdom, to pull him upward.
Strawberry signaled
(The Golem Code Copyright ©2009 by Saturday Books Corp All rights reserved. Unauthorized distribution, transmission or republication strictly prohibited.)