On the mountain he chose for his camp, the rocky terrain now half-lit in moonlight, Rydel sat tucked away in the darkness. The city of Jerusalem below him glowing, the Lower City homes dotted in candlelight and the Upper City palaces blazingly aflame with the use of ornate oil lamps.
Rydel stared at a small fire in front of him, the hood of a second cloak he had had to confiscate covering his face, down to his nose. The superficial bite wounds from the man-dog were no longer painful. The wind cried out, moving over the fire, chilling Rydel, goose bumps spreading over his skin.
A man's deep voice spoke from behind Rydel: "I'm here for you."
Rydel recognized the voice and did not move. He waited for his translator to translate the words. He turned his hooded head around, eyes searching the darkness behind him, seeing no one.
"Let me see you," Rydel said in Aramaic. Peripherally, from under his hood, Rydel caught movement to his left. The darkness around him shifted, and the tall shape of a man walked out of the dark. Rydel kept his head lowered and spoke again through his translator.
"Come…sit with me by the fire."
The black shape emerged from the darkness and walked closer. The firelight reached the man as he moved near, lighting his tall body and face. The forty-year-old man with his sunken, skull-like, deep-tanned face looked down at Rydel with eager eyes that wanted to please.
"Come, Clopas."
Clopas cautiously walked forward and sat on the ground opposite Rydel. The man nodded at Rydel and lowered his head, waiting to be spoken to again.
"Word of where Jesus is now?" Rydel asked Clopas.
"No," Clopas answered.
"His followers?"
Clopas shook his head. "No. When Simon comes to see me again, I will know more."
Rydel leaned closer toward the fire and pulled back the hood of his cloak. There was no need to hide his translator from the man; he was under the influence of S-7, and Rydel had told him to never see it. "Clopas, you told me you knew all there is to know about Jesus!"
Rydel stood up and started pacing back and forth, glaring down at Clopas each time he passed the man seated by the fire.
"Shit," Rydel said to himself. Frustrated, he began to think that he might have wasted S-7 on the wrong person to help him find Jesus. Clopas had helped locate Jesus once, but maybe that was all the information the man had.
Clopas stood, sensing and seeing the anger coming from Rydel. He took a couple of steps toward Rydel, holding his arms out straight with his palms up.
"No one in the city can tell me where they stay during the night. Most only want to talk about the healed one."
As the words translated back, Rydel came to an abrupt stop in front of the fire.
"The healed one?" Rydel asked.
Guarded, but very much wanting to please Rydel, Clopas ventured a couple of steps closer and lowered his head submissively.
"Clopas, lift your head."
Clopas lifted his head. He had a look on his face that was both nervous and eager.
"What you need to do right now is tell me all you know about the healed one people are talking about."
"Lazarus. I know him. A friend. And a very close friend of Jesus. He had passed, and Jesus brought him back, filling his body with life again. I was there. I saw. Lazarus is in hiding now. Many seek him out, wanting to see the miracle of being reborn into the world after death. Others seek him out for different reasons."
Rydel took a couple of slow, deliberate steps and put a hand on Clopas's shoulder, smiling at him. And Clopas returned the smile, eager to please Rydel under S-7's control.
"You know where this man is, Clopas?"
"Yes, he's a friend."
"Take me to him. Now."