Manna Reign: A Relic Hunter Thriller (Treasures of the Ark Book 1) Read online

  Manna Reign: A Relic Hunter Thriller

  Treasures of the Ark #1

  Neena Roth

  Text copyright © 2021 by Neena Roth

  www.NeenaRoth.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission from the author. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  The Golden Jar

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Malta

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  India

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  San Francisco

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Unholy Altar

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Staff Dominion: Sample

  Acknowledgments

  A Note from Neena

  To Mom

  Thank you for being my biggest cheerleader

  and for teaching me to dream big. I love you.

  Then as you pass through the next curtain you would enter the innermost chamber called, the holiest sanctuary of all. It contained the golden altar of incense and the ark of covenant mercy, which was a wooden box covered entirely with gold. And placed inside the ark of covenant mercy was the golden jar with mystery-manna inside, Aaron’s resurrection rod, which had sprouted, and the stone tablets engraved with the covenant laws.

  — Hebrews 9:3-4 (TPT)

  Prologue

  Ethiopia—One week ago

  Passion can blind the man closest to the fire, and he was in too deep now to care.

  Ranjit Ganesh gazed at the golden manna jar glimmering on its makeshift altar like a man consumed.

  Fruits from the latest harvest clustered the base of the crude table like primitive creatures reaching to touch the essence of something greater. Outside, a blazing sun beat down on the thatched roof temple, making the air heavy inside and thick with the aroma of ripe bananas, mangos, and pineapples. Lush green fields and crops surrounded the village and fed not only their own people but neighboring villages as well. Beyond their scope lay dry, barren fields, cracked with a history of death well known through their generations.

  Nothing had grown in the drought-ridden area until the artifact’s discovery. But the jar didn’t belong here. It belonged to the world. Ranjit felt its call every time he returned from India. Now he asked that they give up their most prized and life-giving possession. Because one way or another, he would not leave without it.

  One of the village elders stared at him. “The jar may very well kill you.”

  The old man’s words held no malice or underlying threat. He simply stated what he sensed. The last year had forged a strong bond of trust and friendship between the two of them. But what Ranjit asked could be deemed a betrayal. To remove the jar from this small village meant taking away a miracle.

  Or so he thought.

  A pawn never knows it’s being played until it’s too late. The eyes of deception watched. And waited.

  “I’ll take that risk to prove the jar exists.” He pointed at the offerings huddling the altar, then out the door toward the prospering fields beyond. “And what it can do.”

  The other elders stood in a semi-circle around them. The boy responsible for unearthing the jar fidgeted next to him. If rejected, he would never be allowed to return, and he’d never see the manna jar again. But he was a man with a mission—a passion to find a way to change the world. The jar could very well be the answer.

  He’d trusted one other person with this knowledge. Despite the eyes he sensed watching, he’d sent her his Bible with a list of Scriptures he prayed would be enough to lead her to the truth he sought. He had to know if the jar was the one spoken of in the Bible. The thought staggered him more than the threat of death in light of what he’d witnessed. The world needed to know.

  Starvation transformed to brimming. Death turned to life.

  One by one the other elders nodded their consent. The old man approached the altar, then knelt in silent prayer. He rose as quickly as his tired body would allow and lifted the jar from its place. A shudder rippled over his lean and weathered body. He brought the jar to Ranjit.

  The first touch for a man, the last thought of reason. Like nothing he’d ever beheld, and would ever again. Enrapt, forever trapped, Ranjit would soon understand his destiny.

  Used by all and mastered by none, the jar knew its purpose and its journey.

  Chapter One

  He didn’t want to be the one to tell her.

  Jerad Nebal tossed his duffle onto the hotel bed and pulled off his sweater. He unzipped his bag and extracted a clean Henley. After the warm spring in Chicago, the San Francisco chill had caught him off guard. So did the memories. The homeless stench of the city and the crowded streets. He slipped the long-sleeved shirt over his head and tucked the bottom into his jeans. Feeling clean again, he pushed the hair out of his face and sighed, wearied from traveling and worn by the news he carried.

  He should’ve known better than to throw a never in God’s face. Now a tragedy brought him back to a city he swore he’d never return to. He’d hurt Nikki deeply five years ago. Blamed her for something he shouldn’t have. Now, he dreaded facing her more than telling her the bad news. She had every right to tell him to get lost.

  He slipped out his cell. Tom would want an update.

  His partner’s groggy voice greeted him. “Oh, this better be good.”

  He checked his watch. Late afternoon in Chicago. “What, are you sleeping the day away?”

  “This from a man who just flew all night. It’s Saturday, man. Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “No, I drink coffee.” Jerad dropped onto the edge of the bed. The box spring protested under the floral printed bedspread with a creak that could rival a collapsing bridge. Compared to some of the places he’d stayed, this hotel room ranked up there with a Ritz-Carlton. Still had the same stale smell of old drywall and mold, though. He went to the glass sliding door and slid it open a foot. The noise of the city flowed in along with the fresh air. If he could call it fresh.

  Tom yawned. “Did you tell her yet?”

  Jerad yanked the slip of paper with the address of the Strauss Foundation from his satchel and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. “No. I went by her apartment, but she wasn’t home. I’m going to try the Foundation next. She might be there if she’s not on a dig somewhere.”

  “You should’ve let me come with you.”

  “Why? I can handle this.”

  “You sure? From what you told me, this girl sounds like hell-on-wheels.”

  A mischievous smile under hazel eyes, all framed with a crop of dirty blond hair—Nikki’s face never left his mind for long. But the past was the past. He blew his chance. He’d tell her the bad news, then get out of town as fast as possible. “I’ve got the el
ement of surprise on my side.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

  “Any updates?”

  His partner’s voice shed its tiredness and came to life. “Yep, a big one actually. UBB got their field test results from the last DNA modification—the seed is producing what Umberger’s been promising. They could possibly hit the market by summer if they can finalize FDA approval.”

  “That’s not good. What about our insider tip? Please tell me that they failed their health inspection. That at least would give us a way in.” Jerad ran a hand over the stubble on his chin.

  “Nah, she said Umberger runs the place clean. Their last inspection came back spotless.”

  “What about that lead that he’s testing his seeds in India?”

  “Nothing yet. The Indian government insists that’s not possible.”

  “Just because they don’t allow it doesn’t mean it’s not possible.” The work never ended. Not until he put Umberger’s “superseed” design out of commission. “Keep me posted. Any news that comes through, forward the links to me. I want to keep on top of this guy. One way or another, he’ll screw up.”

  “What—him or his superseed?”

  Jerad stood and plucked his laptop from the backpack. “What’s the difference?”

  “Good question. Why don’t you try to dig up some dirt on him while you’re there? Maybe that old flame of yours can help. You said her father’s foundation supports Umberger’s work. She might know something.”

  A long sigh accompanied Jerad’s exhale. Not that he hadn’t had the thought himself, but he’d done his best to avoid it. Plus, hours of traveling and no sleep weighed his body down. “No, Nikki would never betray her father like that. I just hope she’s not too involved with that side of the Foundation’s work. She was born to be an archeologist, not a desk jockey.”

  “Then tell her it’s research for another one of those articles you have in the works. You want your facts straight, right?”

  He opened his laptop and waited for it to buzz to life. The skeleton of his latest written blast against genetically modified crops needed more flesh. Maybe Tom was right. “Yeah, I’ll see how well she handles the news about Ranjit first.”

  “She’ll take it that bad?”

  “He was an old friend. Nikki doesn’t take losing people well.”

  “Think she’ll still be mad about losing you?”

  Jerad didn’t miss the humor in his friend’s voice, but what had happened five years ago was no laughing matter. Tom still didn’t know the whole story. “She didn’t lose me. I left.”

  Tom’s hefty pause said more than words. “I sure don’t envy you, buddy.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Seeing hunger in a child’s eyes broke her heart every time.

  Hunger for food, acceptance, or love—it didn’t matter. All were severely lacking and desperately needed. And this child’s eyes bespoke an age much older than her slight form represented.

  Nichole Strauss plucked a small, stuffed kitty from the table and crouched down. “You’re Amanda, right?”

  The young girl nodded. Chocolate icing clumped in the corners of her mouth made her appear sad. Maybe she was frowning. Based on what Child and Family Services told Nichole when they bussed the children in, they all had tragic stories.

  “This little guy is Chester, and he needs a friend to love and take care of him. Can you do that for me?”

  Again, the girl nodded but with more enthusiasm. Her blonde curls—true blonde, not dirty blond like her own—bobbed with her movement. The chocolate clumps disappeared, now tucked into a smile.

  Nichole placed the plushy in Amanda’s arms. The girl scampered off with her prize and joined the other children lining up to board the bus. One day a year to be a kid. Not enough. She stood with a breathy sigh and ignored the downward spiral of her thoughts. Her mother had never stopped reaching out to those in need, even if it meant only reaching one. She had to keep remembering that, thinking about that. Reach just one…

  “Don’t do it.”

  She glanced upward to where Soren Umberger stood, perfectly framed in the crystal-blue sky that stretched over San Francisco, taking away some of the morning chill so typical of the peninsula. The sun caught his eyes just so, bringing out the gold flecks surrounding his irises. “Do what?”

  He smiled. “Torture yourself about not doing enough. What you’ve done here is wonderful. I wish something like this had existed when my mom and I were on the streets.”

  As she stood, she touched his arm. “Me too.” They’d dated six months before Soren finally shared the painful childhood that preceded the driven man standing next to her. She suspected a scared little boy still roamed in there somewhere beneath the fitted shirts and tailored slacks.

  “They have full tummies for now, but what happens tomorrow?” Tables once loaded with various food trays lined the left side of the parking lot. The trays had been picked through and the cupcakes were long gone.

  Soren pointed at the fifty bags of groceries filling the tables pushed against the building housing the Strauss Foundation. “That for a start. We’re going to make a difference, remember?” He tapped the latest addition to the pins covering her jean jacket. ‘Starve a child, starve the future.’

  He kissed her cheek, then sauntered over to help break down the baseball toss.

  Closing her eyes, she tilted her head up to let the sunshine warm her face. His superseed design would certainly make a difference if they could get past all the controversy. Genetically modified crops could prove to be the answer they needed if they could iron out all the kinks. And Soren seemed to be the man to do it. He was brilliant and determined to make a difference. Especially in Third World countries. Even she’d seen the ravages of starvation on her travels and digs as an archeologist.

  Nichole turned around and scanned the volunteers smiling and chatting as they packed up the remains of the food table. The community had come out in force, contributing food goods to fill the bags. Even local businesses had chipped in. The Annual Strauss Foundation’s “Feed the Neighborhood” event had reached an all-time high for participation this year. Something to celebrate…and mourn. The homeless numbers in San Francisco were still increasing, and she saw more children among the ranks.

  She checked her watch. Why hadn’t Ranjit called like he’d promised? He’d never broken a promise in the seven years she’d known him. She reached into her jacket pocket to get her phone in case he’d sent her a text but found it empty. Not in her back pocket either. The image of it sitting on her desk upstairs flashed into her memory.

  They had enough volunteers to spare her for a few minutes. Nichole waved at Soren to get his attention. He jogged over to meet her by the building entrance.

  “I need to check my e-mail.”

  “Use your phone.”

  “It’s in my office. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll come and keep you company.”

  “Okay.” She let him open the door for her. After pausing at the security desk to sign in, she smiled at the guard, then joined Soren in the elevator. She punched the button for the top floor and brushed her fingers across the letters of the Strauss Foundation sign next to the brightly lit circle.

  Soren chuckled next to her. “You’re going to wear the letters off if you keep that up.”

  “Then I’ll get a new one made, so stop laughing at me.”

  “I’m not. I find your devotion endearing and one of the things I admire most about you.”

  She thought he was going to say love. Soren never used the “L-word” except in regard to his work, or as an endearment. Perhaps that was the reason behind her hesitancy to completely commit to their relationship. He had his appeal, a strong appeal, but Nichole wanted to be sure he was the right man for her before she completely vested her emotions. So far, God had stayed mysteriously quiet on the subject.

  He laced his fingers with hers. “Have you given any thought to my question?”
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  Right on time. She’d had no doubts Soren would bring up his marriage proposal. She hadn’t even told her father yet. “Yes, I’m still thinking about it, in fact.”

  “Good.” Soren lifted her hand to his lips, effectively quieting any protest she might have offered. “I know we can be very happy together. You’ll come to see that too.”

  The sensation running from his lips brushing her knuckles, up her arm, and to the pit of her stomach sent her head into alarm mode. He certainly knew how to get her attention. “I’m still thinking. That’s all.” Her eyes stayed on his face until he met her gaze and nodded.

  Soren finally broke their momentary silence. “More test results came in last week. The superseed is performing just as I said it would.”

  “Really?” Nichole squeezed his hand, anxious to hear more news about his work and grateful for the shift in conversation.

  His gaze shifted to some unseen, far-away place as he spoke of his dream project. “At this rate, we can make an announcement this summer. We might even be able to release the first superseeds sooner than we planned.”

  “That’s wonderful.” She squeezed his hand again. A thrill coursed through her every time he mentioned another breakthrough. She ached to see starvation eradicated—every child fed and flourishing. Soren’s superseed promised to make her dream a reality.

  “Now that we finally isolated the right on and off triggers in the genetic code, the technology can be applied across the board.” He clasped her hand between both of his. His face grew animated as he spoke, his voice urgent. “Do you realize what this means?”