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Joshua

by David M. Besaw

268 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #01-0459; ISBN 1-55369-057-5; US$23.50, C$26.90, EUR19.50, £13.50

Joshua, set in Iran and Canada, is an exciting, engrossing and philosophic fiction, embracing Jewish history, Middle East politics, apocalyptic beliefs, and international espionage and terrorism as the millenium draws to a close. It is a novel suited for the world we know today, arising out of the terrorists' attack of September 11, 2001 in the USA. Joshua is about Joshua Goldberger, posted in Iran in 1999 to work on a hydropower development, and of his physical journey of survival in a land where he is caught in an intricate web of espionage, and escapes from Iran and embarks on a journey of self-discovery.

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about the book      about the author      Prologue      catalogue info

About the Book Joshua Goldberger, an engineer from Toronto of Jewish background, finds himself caught up in the challenging world of Middle East politics and espionage shortly after arriving in Iran. To avoid a brutal imprisonment, he deceives his captors and plunges into the Karun River, which flows out of the Zagros Mountains into the Persian Gulf. The Iranian government fears a Jewish supremacy group, consisting of Jewish bankers and business men, with ties to the US and high officials in the UN, are clandestinely preparing for a new-world financial order which will relegate them to carpet weavers when their oil runs out in a couple of decades. To maintain control of its destiny and its sovereignty, Iran believes it must develop nuclear weapons. An international military group, called the Alliance, consisting of Canadian, British and American intelligence, have created a special project of cyberstrategists to 'chip' nuclear warheads under construction in Iran and insert computer viruses and logic bombs into various Iranian computer systems. The Alliance has engaged the Mujahedeen-e-Khalq Iran, an insurgent or terrorist group that resists the current regime, to meet its objectives. The Americans provide American-Iranian SEALS supported by the Mujahedeen to attack the Bushehr nuclear power plant to collect a spent fuel sample and to create a diversion for the 'chipping' of the nuclear warheads. Major Benjamin, code name Aaron Solomon, is also a Jew, works for CSIS, and is the Alliance's officer who befriends Joshua and asks him to carry the computer chips, disguised as Canadian collar pins, to Iran and to deliver them as a gift to a friend there. Joshua leaves Canada grappling with a self-identity complex, a subliminal guilt about his Jewish past and a crazed-concept that the world may be heading rapidly into a prophetic embattlement which is promoted by Aaron Solomon and Joshua's mother-in-law, typifying beliefs promoted by Christian and Jewish soothsayers at the end of the millennium. Joshua, unaware of his participation in the 'cold war' type espionage games, departs for Iran where upon arrival is asked to open the gift by the Iranian customs. He innocently decides to wear a collar pin on his jacket lapel to demonstrate its use to the customs officer. Later, Joshua is approached by his Aaron Solomon's contact and is spoken to in an aggressive and challenging way, and he reluctantly surrenders the gift, less one collar pin, to him. The attack on the Bushehr power plant goes ahead and the 'chipping' of the nuclear warheads is completed except for one warhead since one collar pin is still with Joshua. The Iranians blame the Americans for the attack on the Bushehr power plant. To avoid bad press against the US, Aaron Solomon is compelled by other members of the Alliance to recover the missing chip and to tip off Sepah, the Iranian secret police, through the Mujahedeen, that Joshua is the carrier of the spent fuel sample. Joshua's arrest by the Iranians is released by the Alliance, through their Tehran contact, to The Times of London, wanting to put the spotlight on Iran, win world opinion against Iran and re-direct world attention from the US to Iran. An impetuous Canadian journalist makes the connection between Joshua's arrest and the attack on the Bushehr power plant and seeks out and airs Joshua's story. Joshua, after a severe beating, lures Sepah to the Karun River and begins his escape by plunging into the river. The action on the river is driven by the Iranian military that believes Joshua is a Zionist spy. He survives death on the river with the help of a local Bakhtiari man, Dariosh Nassanpour. Dariosh lost his natural son during the Revolution and in remembrance of his son and out of objection to the present regime, he helps Joshua. Joshua's struggle to survive on the river leads him on a journey of self. His subliminal guilt is brought to consciousness and Joshua reconciles a childhood trauma and accepts his Jewish identity when forced to look deep within himself to survive. Joshua experiences a dramatic escape through the Persian Gulf with the help of the Mujahedeen, the SEALS and the US Seventh Fleet. His escape climaxes in a total eclipse of the sun on August 11 -- a possible prophetic sign to the commencement of the evil age of darkness promoted by Joshua's mother-in-law months earlier. Review from the Midwest Book Review Joshua is a terrifically suspenseful novel written about the world in the wake of the September 11 attacks. Author David Besaw draws upon his own extensive experiences and studies in the fields of antiquities, Biblical mysteries, and the major river systems of the world to expertly craft a devious plot replete with omens of disaster coursing through Iran, Canada, and America. Joshua is a gripping and engaging story of Middle East politics, terrorism, Judaism, espionage, and apocalyptic beliefs that compels the reader's total attention from first page to last.

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About the Author The spelling of a surname is important, and whereas the author's name may appear unusual and uncommon, it in itself is a story that transcends time and the Atlantic Ocean, and thus a short explanation is in order. The author is of French ancestry, and bloodline of a one Francis Besson who lived in Holyrood in Newfoundland starting in1792, coming from Port St. Malo, Normandy, France. James, the son of Francis moved to the Port au Port Peninsula on the west coast of the island where the anglicized, present-day spelling of the surname, Besaw, is used. The descendants of Francis, who remained in Holyrood, currently spell their anglicized name Besso, i.e., without the 'n'. The author was born in 1949, delivered by a midwife, in an isolated and remote community of several hundred people, called Three Rock Cove, on the Port au Port Peninsula, Newfoundland, Canada. Three Rock Cove is a picturesque recess in the shoreline facing the Gulf of St. Lawrence and you've guessed it -- the cove had three rock islands in it. Yes, had -- one island is now eroded and hidden below water during high tide. By the age of five the author had moved 7 km to a larger center, Lourdes, and spent his formative years growing up clamming on the sandy beaches of beautiful Port au Port Bay. He presently resides with his family in Niagara Falls, Ontario where he works as a geologist employed with an international engineering company. Beginning in 1980, his professional career developed into an international travelling life-style and since then has worked in East Africa on the Nile and its tributaries, in Central and South America, Iran and parts of Asia on hydro-development related work. It is from the overseas exposure he has developed an interest in the antiquities, the mysteries of the bible, the early white explorers in east Africa, Ethiopia - the land of Prestor John, the major rivers of the world - the Nile River, the Amazon River and the rivers of Mesopotamia. His international background has provided the experience to write the fictional story, Joshua, a book in which conflict and motivation stem from history.

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Prologue

Tuesday, July 13, 1999, early morning - Karun River

    The sun washed the mountain peaks and flushed the Karun River with shades of opal and blue sapphire, its rays reaching deep into the rocky recesses, pushing the night and its darkness into opaque shadows. Higher and higher it rose, caressing, awakening, befriending and giving life to Joshua's world.
    A raven squalled and Joshua stirred his stiff and naked body in the cool morning air that had left his muscles and cartilage unyielding. He lay curled, damp and engulfed in the shadow of a tree, shivering as he opened his eyes and realized his left one was impaired. His body stayed motionless, seemingly fastened to the ground at the mouth of a shallow stream that fed into the Karun. He pushed to break the earth's bond but his rigid frame failed to move; he pushed again, rising on his elbow to a sitting position. He moaned and the raven squalled once more and flew off.
    Joshua rotated away from the tree and came to rest on his back, face up in the sunlight, oblivious to time, absorbing the warmth, its thawing and healing power. The sun awakened his senses and his hand rose to touch his left eye with his numb, uncoordinated fingers, tracing its puffy surface, and little by little, uncaring and intoxicated by the heat and light, he began to drift back into sleep.
    He woke confused, blinded by the brilliance, unsure what was happening. Panic and fear gripped him and the adrenalin started flowing again. A beating sound echoed in his ears; it changed pitch and a blurred form banked over the river. The state of delirium persisted as he tried to react by springing to his feet but the weight of his weary body held him down. He rolled back into the protection of the tree's shade and struggled upright, peering through the branches, his heart pounding hard and pulsating in his throat. He rubbed his right eye to clear his vision and saw a gray and green mottled shape heading toward him. A helicopter! Three soldiers, staring with intense concentration, clung to its side. How could he have been so stupid and lie in the open?
    Joshua's heart raced. He looked around, trying to evaluate his surroundings, but his weariness and pandemonium clouded his initial observations and judgement. His thoughts at first were an instantaneous jumble, mixed and unfocused, as he remained beside the solitary tree. And then his thoughts converged. The side of the stream, where he stood, was sandy, and at a distance of ten metres from the singular tree began a dense thicket about fifty metres wide and many times longer. He viewed the slope to the right of the thicket and saw it yielded to an abrupt lower wall of horizontally bedded limestone, bright in shades of pewter, rising in steep, irregular steps. Upstream, the thicket gave way to a towering, imprisoning cliff. Opposite on the other side of the stream, stood a sheer wall of rock, about thirty metres in height, darkened in the shade.
    He looked down at his feet. Shit! No shoes. How could he escape?
    He felt cornered and fear gripped stronger and moved deeper within him. His capture was imminent. Where could he run? Back to the river? They would have the advantage and shoot him from the air when he appeared. Think. Think. Wait...maybe they hadn't seen him. Maybe they were just checking the thicket?
    The military helicopter maneuvered its clumsy body into position, shadowing the lone tree where he sought cover. The down draft rippled the water and drove the sand and leaves in a hurricane force, blinding him. He instinctively moved away from the helicopter to the opposite side of the tree and buried his face into its trunk.
    The intensity heightened and without thinking, Joshua ran from the tree into the protection of the thicket when he looked back to see the soldiers were still hanging from the open side of the helicopter, one yelling with delight and two other faces glazed with the anticipation of the chase. The copter rose, advanced and searched letting its presence fill the world in noise and turbulence. It chopped, whined and forced air, pushing and parting the foliage, shaking and rattling the branches without mercy, as if it possessed a remote invisible hand.
    Joshua thrust forward like a wild boar, reacting to a natural desire to escape the hunter in a fragile lair. He ran, pushed, jumped, squeezed and crawled in blind panic through the protection of the dense vegetation.
    Blood. He was bleeding and he had not sensed the pain. He stopped and crouched; exhausted, he pinched the wound on his left pectoral with his right hand, yet the blood continued to trickle down his ribs. The stench of the helicopter's exhaust permeated the air, nauseating him. He couldn't control his breathing and for the first time he acknowledged the pain in his feet. The chopper moved on, easing the thunderous noise in his ears, while he sat looking, listening and wondering what the enemy's next move would be. He felt trapped and confined, but for the moment he was safe.
    The helicopter circled, returning to the mouth of the stream, then lowered and hovered, suspended within Joshua's view. Two soldiers in khaki fatigues and helmets jumped into the shallow water up to their knees, paused for the copter to rise and then waded with vigor ashore, holding their AK47s poised. They converged on the singular tree and the sergeant took control of the situation, checking the soil and examining it for footprints. In an instant, they agreed with a nod on the findings and the direction the pursuit should follow.
    The sergeant waved to the private to move inland and took a route nearer the stream, both of them disappearing into the thicket at the same time. The dense growth clearly impeded their advance, pulled at their clothing, AK47s and helmets.
    Joshua waited for the whipping beat to return, taking advantage of the external noise to push through the underbrush, heading upstream. The slower pace relaxed him, making him more methodical, controlling his heart rate and placing him in semi-control. A transformation had taken place without his realizing it. A natural desire to survive controlled his fears; the sudden, unreasoning hysteria and panic had passed. He moved with forethought and prowess, furtively in search of the opportunity to escape or if necessary, to eliminate his pursuers.
    Soon the thicket became less dense but the ground pricked his feet, the stones embedding their sharp edges into his soft flesh, forcing him to stop. A trail of blood drops followed him. He considered where to go and then busied himself to prevent the blood from dripping on the ground by cupping the wound.
    Joshua continued moving forward, making his way along the limestone shoulder of the valley to where talus, comprising of blocks of rock, collected in a heap, protruding into the thicket on the river terrace. He waited for the helicopter to pass as it headed toward the river, then he climbed with difficulty to the top of a block of rock several metres high that formed a low precipitous wall adjacent to the thicket ideal for an ambush.
    He dislodged an angular chunk of rock and placed it beside him and, continuing his assault plan, loosened a small piece of stone, gripping it tightly between his fingers. Crouched on the balls of his feet, he perched like a wild cat, unprotected from the chopper's view, ready to pounce. He pressed his naked body down into a tight ball, hoping his light skin would blend with the bleached limestone.
    "Come on," he yelled inside his head. "Come my way."
    A twig snapped, then another. A soldier moved below him and Joshua pushed down, focusing on staying low. He held his breath, concentrated for the optimum moment and, from the corner of his eye, followed the helicopter banking over the river.
    When he gauged the timing was right, he tossed the stone he clutched in his hand. The soldier gyrated to face the noise in the thicket, and in that instant Joshua rose, his naked body towering above the man, raised the rock and threw it downward crashing it hard against the private's helmet-protected head. Joshua leaped on the back of the fallen soldier, driving his chest into the earth, purging his air. The man groaned. Joshua grabbed the AK47, checked his victim for life and remained hunched over him while trying to listen over his own irregular breathing. A voice called out in Farsi.
    "Baalay, yes," Joshua answered.
    Silenced followed. Joshua didn't know what he'd answered to but it appeared to satisfy the other soldier for the moment. The whir from the prop of the helicopter increased and he pulled the private into the security of the thicket and took cover.
    Joshua examined the AK47, trying to reason how it fired. He'd never held arms before and it felt foreign and cumbersome. Assuming it was ready for use, he placed it close by.
    He unbuttoned the soldier's vest and shirt and put them on with haste; then the pants, together with the knife and case, socks, boots, and the grenade belt. The clothing was a little loose but suitable. He cut a piece of cloth from the tail of the shirt, stuffed it against his pectoral to control the bleeding, and checked the extra AK47 clip in the snug side pocket of the vest. The helmet was dented, but he put it on in a clumsy fit to hide his face as much as possible. As he lifted the AK47, its cool steel awakened his senses to a war that had no turning back. A physical and psychological metamorphism was complete; his mind was focused; his stiffened his spine with determination and he moved toward the river with Herculean strength.
    After twenty metres, Joshua stopped and listened. Yes, there appeared to be only two soldiers. The helicopter was remote and still circling. A voice came from upstream. Yes, a radio transmission. Joshua turned his back to the voice and waited for the transmission to end. He emptied himself of compassion; he had no choice but to defend himself. His deduction was simple - there had to be a winner and a loser.
    Gripping the AK47 with his left hand, he squeezed the trigger and braced for the reaction from the spray of bullets. The noise erupted and the trees splintered in front of him.
    Joshua held his position, without turning to face the crashing and running noise coming from behind him. A voice called out in Farsi. He reacted nonchalantly to the call and released another round of bullets into the trees. The oncomer was close behind him, calling again, and then Joshua turned, greeting the sergeant with a simultaneous discharge into his chest. His body danced and dropped with a thud into the musty shadows of the thicket.
    Detached, Joshua looked down at the blood-covered chest, bent and checked the jugular artery for a pulse. He was dead and Joshua stared unmoved, without repulsion or remorse, at the corpse. The cadence of the helicopter again broke his seclusion and without having to think, he stashed the sergeant's AK47 into a hollow. With a groan, he pulled the limp body up and let him fall across his shoulder, supporting himself on the butt of the AK47, he stood erect, sounding another groan. Then he stumbled through the thicket, pushing his burdened body to an open area beside Karun River.
    He remained standing and, when the chopper became visible, he jumped and waved his AK47 to attract attention. It dropped into position over the water near him, hovering and dominating the beach with its jet propulsion hiss, moving closer, identifying the third soldier hanging out of the side. Keeping his head down to resist the airflow and to hide his face, Joshua waved the soldier ashore and turned to the dead body to work in pretense, pumping the chest over and over and checking the breathing.
    The other soldier reacted at once to help his injured comrade, dropping knee deep into the water with the first-aid kit. Joshua gave him to the count of five to move away from the chopper and then rose, grabbed the AK47 and ran to the river's edge. For a moment he perused the soldier for a firearm and then looked into his face. The man stood there, immobile and trapped with the grayness of imminent death frozen on his face.
    Instead of killing him, Joshua pulled the trigger and shot a volley of bullets high over the soldier's head, shredding the ventilated metal housing that protected the engine above the sliding door. The man plunged for protection to the surface of the water while Joshua held his position, ignoring him for the moment, and pumped more bullets into the engine. The helicopter rose in clumsy jerks and in an instant, the pitch on the rotors changed and the rpms decreased.
    Unsure what damage he'd inflicted, Joshua raced to the front of the helicopter and fired a round of bullets through its round nose, exploding and shattering the cockpit windows. He sensed personal danger and ran for safety as the chopper dropped in slow motion, gliding forward and slicing into the trees, leaving its main rotor collapsed and streamed into twisted ribbons of metal.
    The soldier, his face regaining colour, rose out of the water as Joshua walked down to meet him. They shot hostile looks at each other, and then Joshua waved him ashore with the AK47 before removing his ill-fitting helmet and tossing it hard on the ground.
    "What's your rank?" Joshua called hoarsely, wiping his brow.
    No answer. "You don't understand English? What a pity. At the count of three I shall use the remainder of this clip on you. If you speak English you will get to tell this story to your buddies back home. If not...all of this will remain untold." He pointed the AK47 and counted. "One...two..."
    "Captain," came a contemptuous reply.
    "Captain," Joshua whispered with arrogance. "See what you made me do? You ruined that helicopter. One million dollars thrown away. And your comrades...what a pity."
    "Where's the other soldier?" asked the captain.
    "In the trees. I think he has a terrible headache." Joshua injected confidence in his voice. "I want you to strip."
    The captain frowned.
    "Yes, you heard me, take off all your clothes. Pile them up right here. I don't want to see your ass so leave on your shorts. I find nakedness reveals the man, his weapons, and makes him vulnerable."
    A few minutes passed in silence as the soldier removed his clothing.
    "Well, aren't you a pretty sight. Give me your wrist watch," Joshua ordered.
    The captain peeled the watch from his arm and threw it at him.
    "Don't be a poor loser," added Joshua with faint humour. "Now captain, tell me, where is your base?"
    "Ahwaz."
    "Nice to see you cooperate," Joshua gave a sardonic smile. "When was your last transmission to base?"
    "I don't know."
    "Let's go to the helicopter and check out the pilot. If he's alive and conscious, he may tell us. If you move unexpectedly, I'll shoot. Do we understand each other? Do we?" Joshua yelled.
    The man nodded.
    They approached the chopper. It listed like a lame duck to one side, its main rotor twisted in front of the open side door. Joshua could see the pilot's head slumped forward through the narrow doorway leading to the cockpit.
    "You first and no tricks. Pull him out, easy," Joshua demanded. He kept his eyes fixed on the semi-naked captain as he followed him into the helicopter's belly up to the cockpit entrance. He could not see a sidearm on the pilot. "No tricks. Unbuckle him and bring him outside. Is he conscious?"
    "No, but he is still alive, shot in the chest."
    The captain brushed the glass off the pilot, lifted him at the underarms, then pulled, dragged and rotated him through the narrow cockpit door. Joshua backed into the helicopter tail to give the captain a wider berth and without realising it at first, he pushed his back against a rubbery object. He eyed it and intentionally kicked with his heel to check his discovery. A distorted smile filled his face.
    "Lady luck smiled on me today," he said with a chuckle. "Place the pilot by your dead comrade and come back here." He followed at a distance and they both returned to the helicopter.
    "You are doing real good. Now pull out the boat and I want to see your hands all the time. In you go!" Joshua stood beside the open doorway as the captain manoeuvred the inflated raft.
    "I don't believe it! A small Zodiac. Well, what a piece of luck. You must have been thinking of me," he said in jovial sarcasm. "Pull it from this end so I can see you. Easy and you'll live to tell your story."
    The captain worked the boat through the doorway and dragged it past the two inert bodies to the water's edge, Joshua shadowing him.
    "I want food and the oars. Collect them and place them in the bow."
    "There isn't any food," the captain shouted with his back to him. Joshua hit him hard in the ribs with the barrel of the AK47, causing him to fall forward, crying in pain.
    "I may have one eye but I swear I saw a food cooler. Get it," he yelled. "I'm hungry."
    Joshua followed the captain to the chopper again. "Get in and throw out all the loose stuff. Start with that Styrofoam box under the seat."
    The captain dropped the box out first and Joshua dragged it to where he could still see the captain at a safe distance. He yanked the lid off, becoming wild and excited at the sight of yellow apples, snatching one he bit into it without taking his eyes off the semi-naked soldier, who continued tossing materials out.
    "That's it," the captain shouted.
    Joshua sputtered as he chewed the apple. "Get out and carry these things to the boat."
    Minutes later, Joshua stood at the water's edge and the captain sat on the sand further up the slope. The bow of the boat was lightly loaded with the food box, two oars, the first-aid kit and a short nylon rope. "This is where we say our goodbyes," Joshua said with triumph. "Your other friend is straight in there, next to the rock cliff." Joshua pulled the grenade off his belt and walked toward the captain who stood up and reversed, keeping his distance. "You get your ass in the trees," Joshua yelled.
    The captain turned and ran toward the thicket. Joshua faced the shattered front of the helicopter and examined the metal ball in his hand. It seemed simple enough, he thought. He pulled the pin with his left hand and with a right-arm lob, he launched the grenade into the cockpit through the broken window.
    Joshua fled and sprawled face down on the sand as the explosion erupted, blowing out the balance of the windows into a million shards. The helicopter rocked and listed further, its metal body groaned, grinding against the tree stubs as it settled to its final resting place.
    Within minutes Joshua directed the Zodiac out into the waters of the Karun River. He was unaccustomed to the use of a boat and its oars, so he knelt in the stern and laboriously paddled with one oar from side to side to get to midstream. The adrenalin rush had passed and the pain resurfaced, reducing his desire to push his hurting and tired body. Still, he felt liberated, thrown into nature's care, without the desire to look back and remind himself of the trouble he had fallen into and the destruction he'd left behind.
    A week ago he was a working man sharing camaraderie. Yesterday he was a broken prisoner. Today a new Joshua had emerged, a survivor, a warrior and a fugitive.
    The current took him.

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Catalogue Information

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