Bennett looked over Erin’s shoulder as she found the right page.
“You probably haven’t spent much time studying the book of Haggai,” Natasha said. “Join the crowd. I haven’t either. But about a month ago, Uncle Eli called us around one in the morning. He said he couldn’t sleep. He was reading the ancient prophets, and suddenly became convinced that he’d hit the jackpot.”
Erin read the passage aloud.
“For thus says the LORD of hosts,
‘Once more in a little while,
I am going to shake the heavens
and the earth, the sea also
and the dry land. I will shake
all the nations; and they will
come with the wealth of all nations,
and I will fill this house with glory,’
says the LORD of hosts.
‘The silver is Mine and the gold is Mine,’
declares the LORD of hosts.
‘The latter glory of this house
will be greater than the former,’
says the LORD of hosts,
‘and in this place I will give peace,’
declares the LORD of hosts.”
“I have to admit,” said Natasha, “I didn’t see it at first. But as Uncle Eli explained it, it began to make too much sense. Look closely.”
The Bennetts reread the verses.
“You see?” asked Natasha. “The Lord says He’s going to ‘shake the heavens and the earth.’ In fact, He says He’s going to ‘shake all the nations.’ As Uncle Eli pointed out, that’s exactly what He did last October in fulfilling Ezekiel 38 and 39. Then, look what happens next. The Lord says He will bring ‘the wealth of the nations’ to Israel. That’s happening too. Oil is over $200 a barrel. We’ve never had more money pouring in here. But, of course, that’s not all. According to Haggai, the Lord will then ‘fill this house with glory.’”
“A rebuilt Temple,” said Bennett.
“Exactly,” said Natasha. “The Third Temple, to be precise. Now look a bit farther. The Lord says He’s going to fill the Temple with gold and silver, which He says are His.”
“The Temple treasures,” said Erin, amazed.
Natasha nodded and said, “Now look at verse 9. ‘The latter glory of this house will be greater than the former,’” she noted. “I asked Uncle Eli what that meant, and I have to admit, skeptic though I am, his answer intrigued me. He reminded me that the Second Temple, which King Herod helped construct, was an incredible physical structure—far grander and more impressive than the Temple Solomon had built. But it certainly didn’t have more glory than the first. Why? Because the First Temple had the Ark of the Covenant. The Ark was the resting place of God’s glory. The Temple was originally built to be a home for the Ark, a home for God’s glory. So while the Second Temple was remarkable in every way, it couldn’t have more glory than the First Temple since it didn’t have the Ark.”
“Okay, keep going,” said Bennett, beginning to see where she was headed.
“Well, just think about it, Jon,” said Natasha. “Haggai was prophesying about a future Temple—a ‘latter’ Temple—that would have more glory than the Second Temple. There’s only one way the Third Temple could have more glory than the Second.”
She paused to let Bennett finish her thought, and he did.
“If it actually housed the original Ark of the Covenant.”
41
THURSDAY, JANUARY 15 – 3:56 p.m. – TIBERIAS, ISRAEL
Later that afternoon, Bennett turned to Natasha.
“Your cousin wouldn’t by any chance have a satellite phone, would she?”
“Actually, she does, but it’s probably with her,” said Natasha. “But I’ve got one. I keep it with all my gear.”
“Gear?”
“I do a lot of digs in this area,” said Natasha. “Miriam used to join me when she could, before she got the new Medexco gig. Anyway, she lets me keep a lot of my junk stored here so I don’t always have to schlep it up here from Jerusalem.”
“You guys are close?” asked Erin.
“We used to be closer,” said Natasha. “After my parents died, I spent a lot of time with her, and we both adored my grandfather. But I guess we ended up developing two very different concepts of buried treasure. She wanted to find oil in Israel and make a fortune. That’s how she got hooked up with Dmitri Galishnikov and the whole Medexco crowd. We drifted apart for a while in college, but once she started making serious money she was certainly very generous. She started buying me all kinds of gear—for me and my best students, actually. She let me use her place as a base camp. She usually joins me on a dig for a week or two each summer. And I never know what high-tech gizmo she’ll order next.”
She got up and led them to a storage area off the master bedroom. In addition to shovels, trowels, brushes of all shapes and sizes, and a half dozen metal detectors, it was a spelunker’s treasure trove—helmets, gloves, kneepads, ropes, harnesses, lights, a rack of night-vision goggles, and even an array of pistols and submachine guns. It was still Israel, after all. One never knew when the next attack might come.
“Ah, here it is,” said Natasha, and she handed Bennett the phone.
* * *
“American Consulate, may I help you?”
“Jon Bennett for Ken Costello.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Bennett. One moment. I’ll put you right through.”
“Thanks.”
As he sat at the kitchen table, Natasha set up Miriam Gozal’s laptop computer in front of him and helped him log on to the Internet to download his latest e-mails. There were five from his mother. She was worried sick about them and begged them to get back to her as soon as possible. He dashed off a quick note saying he would call as soon as he could, but things were not going well.
Keep praying, Mom, he concluded. And get some of your friends at that new church praying too. We could use all the air cover we can get. Thanks. I love you, Jon.
Costello came on the line. “Jon, thank God. Are you and Erin okay?”
“We’re fine, thanks.”
“You know there’s an APB out for your arrest—for both of you.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I just heard it from Rajiv,” Costello explained. “The Israeli police say three bodies were found murdered in Dr. Mordechai’s house. Ballistics says the slugs they pulled out of them came from Erin’s Beretta.”
“That was self-defense,” said Bennett.
“You might have mentioned that to somebody before fleeing the scene.”
“They’re not the only ones after us.”
“You’re telling me,” Costello said. “You’ve got the whole country after you.”
Erin and Natasha now turned to listen. They were only getting one side of the conversation, of course, but it was enough to make them realize they were in serious trouble.
“Look, I’ll call Avi Zadok,” Costello offered. “We’ll bring you into the consulate and arrange a deal for you guys to turn yourselves in. Where are you right now?”
“Ken, I can’t,” said Bennett.
“Jon, you have to.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“How do we know Avi isn’t part of this thing?”
“Avi Zadok? Are you crazy? He’s the head of the Mossad, for crying out loud. You think he’s a terrorist?”
“I don’t know what’s going on right now, but the bottom line is that someone out there is trying to kill us, and Avi can’t guarantee our safety and, frankly, Ken, neither can you.”
“What, you think I’m in on this too?” Costello asked.
“No, of course not. I’m just saying—”
“I’m not sure you understand the gravity of the situation, Jon,” Costello insisted. “At least let me call the prime minister. I’m sure I can work out something with him.”
“No, Ken, you’re not hearing me. I’m not coming in. Not yet.”
“Jon, what are you saying?
You can’t run. How do you think that looks? Israel’s a pretty small country. You know they’re going to catch you, and then what? You’re on your own. At least if you guys turn yourselves in now, the embassy will come to your defense. I’ll talk to the president. He’ll make sure you’re okay. He owes you one, remember?”
“I’m not looking for a deal,” said Bennett. “I’m looking for the people who killed my friend. That’s what Mordechai asked me to do, and I gave him my word. Now you can hunt me down, or you can help me. Besides Erin, you’re about the only friend I’ve got right now, Ken. I could really use your help.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“What do you need?” asked Costello.
“Two things,” said Bennett. “First, there’s an envelope on my dresser back at the King David. It’s a private letter from Salvador Lucente to the president. Can you get it and make sure the president sees it?”
“Sure. What’s it about?”
“Lucente thinks he’s about to get a promotion.”
“To what?”
“Secretary-general.”
“Of the U.N.? Are you kidding?”
“No, but as you can imagine, there is a boatload of implications to that,” Bennett continued. “The president and NSC need to know ASAP so they can start war-gaming their response.”
“Okay, I’ll get the letter to him. What’s the second thing?”
“Erin asked Rajiv for intel on Abdullah Farouk,” said Bennett. “Do you happen to know if she found anything?”
Costello hesitated for a moment, then said, “Yeah, I do, Jon. She told me about the request, and I helped her look. It’s not good.”
42
THURSDAY, JANUARY 15 – 4:21 p.m. – TEL AVIV, ISRAEL
Viggo Mariano had just landed in Tel Aviv.
“Dr. Guillaume, welcome to Israel,” said a voice behind him.
For a moment Mariano didn’t react to the unfamiliar alias, but then he turned and smiled at the young Israeli woman from the airport’s VIP office who had been assigned to greet Mariano upon his arrival from Paris.
“Forgive me,” she said, “but I just learned you were coming less than an hour ago. I understand you and your team are here from the World Health Organization?”
“Oui, oui, but we want no special attention, s’il vous plait,” Mariano said, sporting a light French accent with ease. “We just want to do our work as unobtrusively as possible, and then we will be on our way.”
“We are delighted to have you here,” said the young woman. “In fact, I just called our health minister. I’m afraid he was not aware you were coming. But he asked me to make sure you were taken care of and asked if you could join him for dinner in Jerusalem tonight.”
For a moment, Mariano felt a flash of panic. That was the last thing he wanted. “You are most kind, most kind. But I am afraid my colleagues and I have a very tight schedule. We must conduct our tests and get back to Paris immediately. I am afraid under the circumstances we must respectfully request a rain check with the minister.”
With a polite smile and a quick handshake, Mariano and his four “colleagues” walked briskly to the doors, jumped into a waiting WHO van, and sped off.
* * *
Bennett hung up quickly and turned to Erin and Natasha.
“We have to leave now.”
“Why? What is it?” asked Erin.
“I’ll explain on the way. Natasha, does your cousin have a car we could borrow?”
“Why can’t we use the Mercedes?”
“Every cop in Israel is looking for it.”
“She’s got an SUV,” said Natasha. “A Navigator—it’s in the garage.”
“Where does she keep the keys?”
“In a dish by the back door.”
“See if they’re still there,” said Bennett. “Erin and I will get the gear.”
Ten minutes later they were on the road, headed north around the lake, through Capernaum, and around to the eastern shores.
“So why the rush?” asked Natasha. “I thought we were going to wait until dark.”
“Costello said Abdullah Farouk is on the move. He may be coming here.”
“To Israel?”
“To the Golan Heights, at least, through Jordan.”
“What? Wait a minute,” said Erin. “Go back. What exactly did Ken say?”
“He and Rajiv did some checking on Prince Farouk, like you asked. Rajiv said he’s someone the intelligence world is beginning to get very worried about. Two weeks ago Lee James added Farouk to Homeland Security’s watch list of suspected terrorists.”
“Why?”
“Apparently Farouk recently moved his money and his men from Saudi Arabia to somewhere in southern Europe. They’re not sure where, but they believe he is actively recruiting terrorists for the Legion. The same group behind the bombing in Washington that killed George Murray. The same group the guys who attacked us at Eli’s house belonged to. Then Ken called your old buddy Danny Tracker.”
“What did Danny say?” asked Erin.
“Who’s Danny Tracker?” Natasha interjected, trying to keep up.
“Sorry,” said Erin. “He’s the deputy director of operations at CIA.”
“Got it. Sorry. Go on.”
“Anyway,” Bennett continued, “Danny had good news and bad news. The good news was that an Agency operative spotted Farouk three weeks ago, arriving at the Kuwait City airport on a flight from Rome. Two days later, Danny’s financial unit spotted $25 million being routed into a Cayman Islands bank account believed to be controlled by one of Farouk’s sons. The money changed hands at least a half dozen times before arriving in the Caymans, but Danny said as best as they could tell, its origin was an Iraqi-owned shipping company. What’s more, a friend of Danny’s at NSA said a few days ago they intercepted a cell-phone call between a senior aide to President Al-Hassani and the CEO of that Iraqi shipping company. On the call, the CEO mentioned something called Operation Black Box; then the call was cut off.”
“Operation Black Box? What’s that?” asked Erin.
“Actually, Danny was hoping you’d know.”
“I’ve never heard of it. Have you, Natasha?”
“No.”
“Your grandfather never mentioned it? or maybe Mordechai?”
“No—not with me around, at least.”
“Could it be a plan to find the Ark?” said Bennett.
“Maybe,” said Natasha. “Or a plan to kill everyone looking for the Ark.”
“Either way, Danny says Farouk’s private jet landed in Amman this morning,” Bennett continued. “A CIA operative assigned to our embassy there says twelve men got off the plane, including a man matching the prince’s description. They got into two vans with U.N. markings and went to the Jordan Archaeological Museum.”
Erin gasped. “The same place we were yesterday!”
“Right. An hour later, they were headed north to the border of Syria.”
“So what’s the problem?” asked Natasha. “Can’t they just move in and get them?”
Bennett shook his head. “That’s the bad news. You know how many U.N. relief trucks are in Jordan right now? Our guy lost them in the crowd.”
“Which means he’s on the loose, just across the border,” said Erin. “And he may be heading straight for us.”
* * *
The phone rang and he answered it immediately.
“Ken Costello.”
“Mr. Costello, this is the White House operator. Please hold for the national security advisor.”
A moment later, Marsha Kirkpatrick was on the line. “Any luck finding Jon and Erin?”
Costello explained the situation.
“They’re making a terrible mistake,” said Kirkpatrick. “But it sounds like there’s nothing more you can do. The president wants you back in Washington right away. He wants a briefing on your meetings with Doron and Lucente, and he wants to see that letter Lucente gave Jon.”
* *
*
The sun had not yet set, but they couldn’t wait.
Bennett knew they had to get into those tunnels before Farouk and his team did. He just prayed they weren’t already too late.
“There, take a left,” Erin said suddenly.
Bennett pulled off onto a dirt road. He came to a stop and cut the lights. Just over the ridge, Israeli and U.N. peacekeeping forces were busy burying the dead and trying to keep deadly diseases from triggering a global pandemic. Here—for now, at least—all was quiet. But they dared not attract attention.
Natasha’s night-vision equipment was designed to be used inside caves, not off-roading through old mine fields, but it would do.
They proceeded up the side of the mountain for another twenty minutes.
It was agreed that Bennett and Erin would be the “scroll hunters.” Natasha would take the SUV back down the mountain to avoid suspicion, monitor police and military frequencies, stay in constant communication with the Bennetts via encrypted wireless radios, and come back for them when the time was right.
“How much farther?” Bennett asked.
Erin used a penlight to double-check the coordinates from Ray Donovan’s message, then took another GPS reading. “Another half mile on the left,” she said.
A few moments later, she tapped Jon on the shoulder.
“Pull over,” she said. “We’ll have to walk from here.”
43
THURSDAY, JANUARY 15 – 5:47 p.m. – THE GOLAN HEIGHTS
The sun was gone and the moon had not taken its place.
Thick clouds covered the night sky, and a strong breeze swept through the mountains. Bennett and Erin hiked for another fifteen minutes, and then began hunting through the thick brush for the cave opening Donovan had described in such detail in his notes. They never would have found it without the GPS coordinates, Bennett realized. The small opening was completely concealed. When they finally found it, the opening was just large enough to squeeze through.