shoving grain into every silo and orifice in the city. And the flow of a water chute from the fortress above suggested massive water cisterns of the kind found on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem.
“Everything looks fine, but I smell fear,” Deker said. “They’re pretending like there’s no threat of an invasion. But they’re preparing for one just the same.”
“That’s good,” Elezar said.
“No, that’s bad. Because they have enough grain and water to outlast an Israelite siege for years.”
The reality was that, at first glance, Deker didn’t see how Bin-Nun could avoid taking Jericho without suffering massive casualties. The losses in such a so-called victory would break the back of his war machine, demoralize the Israelites and open them to attack by Jericho’s stronger neighbors in Canaan.
The walls had to come down first, somehow. There simply was no other way. And yet, the longer their shadows grew from the setting sun, the taller and more impregnable those walls appeared.
Elezar seemed to read his mind. “So, could you bring down the walls with your C-4?”
“I thought that was Yahweh’s job.”
“Maybe we are God’s hand.”
Deker asked, “How did the walls come down in Scripture?”
“The book of Joshua says the walls fell outward, not inward, and the Israelites marched single file up into the city.”
Deker nodded as he looked around. The trick was ultimately going to be to find a compromised or hollow part of the upper wall and plant the C-4. That would steer the rest of the wall in the proper direction as it collapsed. If he did it right, he could actually use the avalanche set off by the wall cascading down the sloping city to take out a portion of the lower wall to boot. And if he was truly brilliant, the resulting collapse of the city wall would create its own ramp over that lower concrete wall at the bottom.
“It’s possible,” Deker said. “In theory, it’s no different than dropping a high-rise in Tel Aviv. But it’s still a huge job and requires careful planning. We need to get a look inside that upper fortress.”
They began searching for a second gate that connected the upper fortress with the lower city, and found what they were looking for at the end of the commercial district: a guarded bronze gate in the upper wall. The gate was open to reveal wide stone steps leading up to the fortress, where a massive temple, fountains, royal courtyard and government buildings could be glimpsed.
But as they stepped toward the bronze gate, the blast of a horn sounded from a watchtower and a colored flag went up the stone spire. A platoon of shock troops emerged from the fortress and headed straight toward them.
Leading the way was the little boy whom Deker had spared, his throat wrapped with some kind of bandage. He also had a black eye now, swollen shut. He was on some sort of leash, like an ancient bloodhound. His open and animated eye darted to and fro, looking for them, as if his life depended on it even more than when Elezar had held a blade to his throat.
“They found the patrol,” Elezar said. “They know we’re here. We’re blown.”
Deker turned away from Elezar’s accusing eyes as they beat a hasty retreat through the thinning crowds of the market square at dusk. They arrived just in time to see the main gate close with the clanking of chains and an earthshaking thud, sealing them inside.
16
Standing in the middle of the market square, Deker quickly saw they were blocked on three sides: by the advancing police troops from the city’s south side, the wall of the fortress to their west, and the closed city gate to their east. That left them only one direction of escape.
“Rahab’s Inn,” Deker said. “It must be on the other side of the square.”
He heard no argument from the purse-lipped Elezar as they disappeared into the twisting alleys of the city’s cramped north side. This part of town was further stratified, with the better housing uphill against the outside of the fortress wall above them and the slums pressed against the inside of the lower city wall.
They hurried onto one of two main boulevards lined with palm trees that swayed in the darkening sky, then turned into an alley, emerging in another square. The evening was alive with small groups of Reahns strolling about and filling up the taverns. If there was a nightly curfew, it was still a few hours away, and the inhabitants of the city had long ago made their peace with the presence of troops and police searches in their lives.
“This is it,” Deker said, pointing to the red scarves hanging from the windows of the brothels around the square. “The red-light district. Wasn’t Rahab the hooker supposedly spared when Jericho fell because she tied a scarlet cord in her window so that the Israelite troops would avoid her house?”
“Figures she’s the only thing you’d remember from Hebrew school,” Elezar quipped as he scanned the surroundings.
“Not that it helps us,” Deker said. “Almost every window here has a red scarf.”
It was a shabby but busy area dotted with fruit stands, sweetshops and taverns that encircled the square. Elezar made a beeline for an outside table stacked high with dates and pomegranates on one side and jars and cups on the other. The old Reahn woman behind the table didn’t even wait to pour them two cups of pomegranate juice.
Deker downed the sweet juice in one giant gulp. He realized he hadn’t eaten all day, not since the night before in Shittim.
Elezar played it better, taking a sip and nodding his appreciation before he placed the cup down, wiped his mouth with his hand and simply asked, “Rahab?”
The woman seemed puzzled that any man would have to ask, but her eyes drifted to the four-story villa above a tavern and opposite what appeared to be the local police station. It was an open-fronted building with a courtyard on the square filled with straw chairs arranged under the trees.
And packed under those trees, drinking the local ale, smoking the local weeds and playing a game with small pegs while they waited to be serviced, were a dozen Reahn officers.
“We’re fucked,” Deker said under his breath.
“For both our sakes, I hope you’re right, Deker,” Elezar replied. “Reahn custom prevents these men from barging into a woman’s room. They must ask permission to enter. Let’s go,” he said, and started for the inn.
17
Deker saw a lot of strange faces and could hear a number of different languages around the tavern as he and Elezar made their way through a large crowd of drunken Reahn soldiers and the bar wenches who served them. At the counter in back, the inn manager, a slight, dark man, looked visibly irked at being pulled aside on a busy night.
“We’re looking for Rahab,” Elezar said.
“You and everybody else,” the manager said, looking them over. “You don’t have the rank.”
“Maybe this does,” Deker said, and removed from his neck the necklace with the crescent-shaped pendant that Caleb had given them and handed it to the manager.
The manager frowned and looked up at him curiously. “Two specials for our guests,” he called to one of his bar wenches. He then disappeared into a back hallway while a young girl served them a couple of locally brewed drinks.
Deker looked out over the tables to the plaza beyond, watching for trouble. Elezar’s ears, meanwhile, were up like antennae as they sipped their drinks. The brew tasted like a cross between beer and ouzo.
“They’re all talking about Bin-Nun,” Elezar whispered. “The Israelites are undefeated in war and marching to Canaan. The bets are that he’ll hit Jericho first once the Jordan is past flood stage in a month or two. Then they’ll swarm Canaan like cockroaches. If only all the cities united with a national army, it would be the end of the vermin. If anyone can stop them, it’s Hamas. He’s got a secret army to defeat even Yahweh.”
“What is it?” Deker asked.
“Nobody knows. But some are worried Hamas is talking about doubling Reah’s offerings to Molech.”
