Free The Kabbalistic Murder Code: Mystery & International Conspiracies (Historical Crime Thriller Book 1) by Nathan Erez Page B
Authors: Nathan Erez
Land. I’d like something more prosaic for a change.”
“That’s just what I wanted to discuss with you,” said Elijah, grabbing the bull by the horns. “Some of that money is supposed to cover a trip I need to take on behalf of the Institute. It’s just a short trip to Hong Kong, to check something out.”
“What do you mean, ‘to check something out’? You’re hardly anyone’s idea of a sleuth. How insidious can a manuscript be? Or is it just that you’ve managed to nab a free trip? As far as I’m concerned, you can fly to the moon if it’s part of your job description.”
Elijah felt instant relief. What it all boiled down to was money.
According to the faxed itinerary, the flight would leave Israel Saturday night and arrive in Hong Kong at lunchtime on Sunday. His airline ticket would be waiting for him at Ben Gurion International Airport. In Hong Kong, someone would pick him up and drive him to the New City Hotel, where a room had been reserved for him for two nights. A sentence in the fax, which had been underlined twice for emphasis, stated that everything had been paid for and that he had no need to pay for anything.
Only when he reached the airport, where his airline ticket was indeed waiting for him, did he realize that he was traveling first class. Elijah had flown many times, but this was the first time he was going first class, and he had no idea what to expect. When the flight was called, the flight attendant at the door chided him gently for having waited in the regular departure lounge rather than the VIP lounge. He felt strange entering the first class compartment. The flight attendants all smiled and went out of their way to be helpful. His seat was more like a royal throne than an airplane seat. Next to the seat was a whole array of buttons, with which he could order delicious meals, the latest movies that had not yet been shown in Israel and all kinds of tools and accessories to help him sleep. After finally falling asleep, he awoke shortly before the plane started its descent to Hong Kong airport.
The airport was by far the largest one he had ever seen. He sailed through passport control expecting someone to be waiting for him, but there was no one. Following the signs, he started wheeling his suitcase toward the train that would take him to the city center, where his hotel was located. Suddenly he noticed a taxi driver who seemed very agitated. The man was going from one westerner to another with a crudely hand-lettered sign, and kept receiving negative responses. Elijah glanced at the sign and saw that it was for “Professor Simtov”. In a brilliant flash of intuition and using all his language and anthropological skills, he assumed that the man was looking for him. He beckoned to the taxi driver, who ran over, holding a copy of the fax that Elijah had received. Elijah nodded, and the relief on the man’s face was palpable. He looked like he had finally reached the Promised Land.
The trip took about forty-five minutes and they finally arrived at a very elegant hotel in the center of Hong Kong.
Elijah’s joy knew no bounds when an immaculately dressed man came over and introduced himself as Mr. Lee, assistant manager of the hotel, and insisted on giving Elijah his business card with his personal, hand-written, cell phone number.
“Feel free to call me at any time and about any matter,” the assistant manager assured him in English with such a strong Chinese accent as to render it nearly incomprehensible.
As they moved toward the elevators, Elijah saw a woman who looked like a nurse, with an open case that looked as if it contained first-aid equipment. The woman suddenly stopped and stared intently at the
“That’s just what I wanted to discuss with you,” said Elijah, grabbing the bull by the horns. “Some of that money is supposed to cover a trip I need to take on behalf of the Institute. It’s just a short trip to Hong Kong, to check something out.”
“What do you mean, ‘to check something out’? You’re hardly anyone’s idea of a sleuth. How insidious can a manuscript be? Or is it just that you’ve managed to nab a free trip? As far as I’m concerned, you can fly to the moon if it’s part of your job description.”
Elijah felt instant relief. What it all boiled down to was money.
According to the faxed itinerary, the flight would leave Israel Saturday night and arrive in Hong Kong at lunchtime on Sunday. His airline ticket would be waiting for him at Ben Gurion International Airport. In Hong Kong, someone would pick him up and drive him to the New City Hotel, where a room had been reserved for him for two nights. A sentence in the fax, which had been underlined twice for emphasis, stated that everything had been paid for and that he had no need to pay for anything.
Only when he reached the airport, where his airline ticket was indeed waiting for him, did he realize that he was traveling first class. Elijah had flown many times, but this was the first time he was going first class, and he had no idea what to expect. When the flight was called, the flight attendant at the door chided him gently for having waited in the regular departure lounge rather than the VIP lounge. He felt strange entering the first class compartment. The flight attendants all smiled and went out of their way to be helpful. His seat was more like a royal throne than an airplane seat. Next to the seat was a whole array of buttons, with which he could order delicious meals, the latest movies that had not yet been shown in Israel and all kinds of tools and accessories to help him sleep. After finally falling asleep, he awoke shortly before the plane started its descent to Hong Kong airport.
The airport was by far the largest one he had ever seen. He sailed through passport control expecting someone to be waiting for him, but there was no one. Following the signs, he started wheeling his suitcase toward the train that would take him to the city center, where his hotel was located. Suddenly he noticed a taxi driver who seemed very agitated. The man was going from one westerner to another with a crudely hand-lettered sign, and kept receiving negative responses. Elijah glanced at the sign and saw that it was for “Professor Simtov”. In a brilliant flash of intuition and using all his language and anthropological skills, he assumed that the man was looking for him. He beckoned to the taxi driver, who ran over, holding a copy of the fax that Elijah had received. Elijah nodded, and the relief on the man’s face was palpable. He looked like he had finally reached the Promised Land.
The trip took about forty-five minutes and they finally arrived at a very elegant hotel in the center of Hong Kong.
Elijah’s joy knew no bounds when an immaculately dressed man came over and introduced himself as Mr. Lee, assistant manager of the hotel, and insisted on giving Elijah his business card with his personal, hand-written, cell phone number.
“Feel free to call me at any time and about any matter,” the assistant manager assured him in English with such a strong Chinese accent as to render it nearly incomprehensible.
As they moved toward the elevators, Elijah saw a woman who looked like a nurse, with an open case that looked as if it contained first-aid equipment. The woman suddenly stopped and stared intently at the