Free Chase Baker and the Seventh Seal (A Chase Baker Thriller Book 9) by Vincent Zandri Page B

bookstore in the recent past,” she says. “A man showed me some very old books. Ancient books. Made of metal. They were stored in a safe in the back.” Nodding her head in the direction of a white, blue, and yellow curtain that covers a door-sized opening. “Do you know the man I speak of?”
    Mahdi’s face goes stone stiff. It’s as though, in trying not to show emotion, he is most definitely giving himself away.
    “I do not,” he says. Then, placing his hand on Magda’s arm, he adds, “Perhaps it’s time you left my store. I have nothing here that will interest you.”
    I make out feet shuffling behind me.
    “Hands off, pal,” Moshe insists. He steps up beside me, his Uzi machine-pistol suddenly gripped his right hand in the place of his precious Siddu.
    Mahdi spots the gun, slowly removes his hand. The stone face now turns into a smile. But it’s a far cry from a happy smile.
    “I do not look for trouble,” he says.
    A laugh coming from behind me. Itzy.
    “Can we hurry this up, already?” he says. “It’s almost time to pray.”
    I toss him a look over my shoulder.
    “What?” he says.
    “The books we’re looking for are about the size of a credit card,” I say. “They are bound together not with traditional spines but with ringlets of metal. They have detailed carvings of Jesus and ancient Jerusalem on them, and they are also embossed with letters. In Hebrew. Perhaps in Greek, also.”
    “There are seven of them,” Magda adds, her eyes shifting from Mahdi to me and back again. “The seventh book will have a seal around it. A seal made of a strange metal.”
    The proprietor swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
    “It’s possible I recall seeing books that match the description once upon a time,” he says. “But they are not here. Such metal books were once considered the work of the devil and were immediately ordered cast out. The Bishop of Caesarea banned tablets made of metal as forbidden sorcery in 335 AD.”
    “So are you telling me they were destroyed?” I say.
    “They’re not destroyed,” Magda interjects. “I saw them with my own eyes. An old man who works here opened a safe in back and showed them to me. One of them, the seventh, is sealed with a piece of metal that cannot be cut.”
    “They are not here,” Mahdi insists. But there’s something in his eyes, and it looks a lot like lies.
    “Not here?” Magda says, raising her voice. “Or no longer here?”
    To my direct right, Moshe is standing foursquare, the Uzi in his hand. I can tell this isn’t going to be easy.
    “Itzy,” I say, “lock the damn door.”
    He twists the deadbolt, locking the door.
    Up in the far right corner of the shop, a security camera, its red light blinking, indicating I’m being watched. But by who? A machine? Or someone else. Time to do a little convincing. I pull out my .45, plant a bead on Mahdi’s stomach.
    His eyes follow the barrel of the gun. He swallows so hard it looks like his Adam’s apple is about to pop out of his neck.
    “As Allah as my judge,” he says, “I do not have the codices.”
    “But you know who does?”
    “Where’s the old man?” Magda says.
    I thumb back the hammer on the .45.
    Mahdi runs his hand along the length of his beard as if the gesture helps him think.
    “The old man is dead,” he says. “Not long after he died, the metal books you speak of also disappeared.”
    “Mind if we take a look for ourselves?” I say.
    He swallows something again. “If you must. But I cannot assure you I can remember the combination to the safe.” Feigning a smile. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, and I will have the combination required to open it.”
    “Why don’t we try it right now,” I insist, waving the gun in the direction of the curtained opening.
    “Very well,” he says.
    He goes for the opening, while Magda and I come around the counter, following his every footstep.
     
     
     

 

    CHAPTER 18
     
    The back room is full of