The Caleb Collection

by Ted Dekker

  He didn’t answer.

  “Surely you didn’t just stumble into camp without a past. Someone, somewhere, must be waiting for you.”

  Still no response. She decided to throw him some bait, now while his mind was preoccupied with this ocean of his. He might respond to a question linked to the Ark.

  “There must be a key to the presence of God, don’t you think?” she asked. “Where the oil and brine mix.”

  Caleb just stared at her for an inordinate amount of time, and she thought she might have been too obvious. “Enthrall your mind and your spirit with a ravishing vision of God,” he said. “Swim to the bottom of his ocean, and there you will find a pearl of great price behind a piece of white coral. Waste your life for this pearl and you will be in the door without a key.”

  The words hardly made sense. She couldn’t think of what to say in response. The sound of a drum broke the night air. It was quickly joined by ouds and a flute.

  Caleb grabbed his flowing tunic and pulled it around himself like a prophet. He strode past her towards the campfires, evidently drawn by the music. Oh no, you don’t. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to let him go.

  “Caleb, wait. Please, I need to—”

  Caleb whirled back to her, grinning wide. “Are you willing to abandon yourself, Rebecca?” He gripped his tunic in both hands and jumped up in the air.

  Rebecca started. What in God’s name was he doing, jumping like this?

  “Yes?” He laughed, delighted with himself. “Dance with me, Rebecca. Dance!”

  He jumped again, straight up nearly a meter, and then again, like he was a pogo stick. “Abandon yourself! Dance, Rebecca! Dance! We are in the presence of the Ark! That’s the meaning of the dance.”

  The absurdity of the moment froze her to the sand. The Ark? It occurred to her that her mouth was open.

  “Find God with me!”

  Caleb landed a last time, spun back to the camp, and ran for the fires.

  21

  I don’t think you appreciate the delicacy of the situation, David,” Ben Gurion said. They sat alone late that night, in David’s own apartment, sipping wine. It was the least Solomon could offer his old friend. “You have Goldstein tied in a knot.”

  “Has he talked?” Solomon asked.

  “No. But he threatened to call the Egyptians in an effort to close the borders.” He paused. “I made a call to Lerner, down at the university. He tells me that the Ark cannot be in Egypt. It’s impossible.”

  “Lerner? This is the same man who agreed with the Muslim Waqf that bulldozing the entrance to Solomon’s Stables was not threatening to antiquities? I’m surprised you would call him much less listen.”

  “He’s also Israel’s leading authority on archaeology—”

  “No, Zakkai is Israel’s leading authority on archaeology. And Zakkai is finding it hard to sleep these days, trust me.”

  “So, you do have Zakkai in on this. Lerner guessed as much.” Ben Gurion shook his head. “If what you say is true, David, I’m not sure I disagree with Goldstein’s suggestion to close the border.”

  “It would be paramount to turning the Ark over to the Muslims. First we give up our Temple Mount and now you would give up the Ark? What’s next—Judaism? You’re determined to make a name for yourself in the history books. The man who put Judaism in the grave once and for all.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Ben Gurion eyed him carefully. “And the alternative would be leading our country into war; you know that. Goldstein may be godless, but he’s no idiot.” The prime minister stood and walked to the same window David had gazed through while the old blind priest had spun his tale nearly a week ago now.

  “How long have we known each other, David?”

  “Since the war in ’67.”

  “Over thirty years. We have come a long way in thirty years.”

  “We’ve come nowhere,” Solomon said. “We were closer to our objective then than we are now.”

  The prime minister turned to face him. “Yes, it all depends on the objective, doesn’t it? I don’t expect you to ever agree with me ideologically—I will concern myself with building a nation and you may concern yourself with building a people prepared for the Messiah. But we both must be very careful not to wipe out ten million Jews in the process.”

  Solomon didn’t respond. It was old ground, covered a dozen times over the years. More talk seemed pointless.

  “I must know how likely it is that you will actually find the relic, David.”

  “You mean the Ark—it’s not just a relic. Assume it done.”

  “You have it?”

  “No. But assume I will in a matter of days. And if I don’t, consider this a dry run, because one day I will.”

  “There are no dry runs with the Ark. Our neighbors will explode if they even think we have it.”

  Solomon ignored the point. “You have two choices: you’ll either give the Ark to our enemies and destroy Judaism’s foundation, or you’ll allow me to unveil it and risk war.”

  Ben Gurion sighed. “Yes.”

  “Let me help remove the confusion which might surround these two options. What Goldstein and his group of bandits don’t realize is that we are surrounded by enemies because of who we are, not because of our policies. Nothing will ever change the fact that we are Jews. Unless we all become Muslims and change the name of our country, we will be Israel, and as Israel we will always be the enemy. Neither the Temple nor the Ark will bring war—it is who we are that will bring war! All the Ark would do is reaffirm who we are, and this will bring war.”

  “I’m not sure I see how this makes the matter any less confusing.”

  “Don’t you see, Simon . . . Israel and her neighbors are destined for war either way. I’m saying you’re not faced with a decision of war or no war— that’s out of your control. The only question is whether you want to enter the next war with the Ark or against the Ark.”

  Ben Gurion raised an eyebrow.

  “You don’t believe in the power of the Ark? It handled Jericho quite nicely.”

  “It doesn’t matter whether I believe in the power of the Ark, does it? There are enough Jews who do, and they won’t like the idea of taking tanks into battle against the Ark. Is that it?”

  Solomon nodded. “Close enough.”

  “So you’re saying that war is inevitable either way, and it would be a mistake to allow the Ark to fall into enemy hands. I agree. How about giving it to a third party?”

  “Put it in an American museum? Absurd. It’s our heritage! War would still come. No, you must have it in your hands. There is no other way.”

  “But you’re wrong. There is another way. Leave the Ark. Simply don’t find it. As long as it’s hidden, it poses no problem.”

  “And if we wouldn’t have resurrected the nation of Israel, we wouldn’t have the problem of protecting it, would we? You can’t hide the truth just because you don’t want to face it. You don’t just sweep God under the rug because he gives you a headache.”

  “Then you’re basically insisting on war.”

  “I didn’t commission the building of the Ark, my friend. God did. If his instrument brings war, so be it. I insist on nothing but to do his will. Perhaps you should take this up with him. He is accepting prayers at the Western Wall, below the Al-Aqsa Mosque, from what I hear.”

  “Please don’t patronize me. I’m not your enemy—you have plenty of those as it is.”

  Solomon turned from him and sighed. “You’re right, forgive me.” He stood and joined the prime minister by the window. They looked out to the Temple Mount together.

  “I see you keep your goal clearly in view,” Ben Gurion said.

  Solomon nodded. “I need your help, Simon. If I find the Ark, I want you to help me bring it in safely.”

  “I would rather you didn’t find it.”

  “Yes, but that’s beyond my control now.” He thought briefly about Rebecca’s missing status and a barb pulled at his chest. He could only pray
that she was safe. He would like to say that Rebecca had been in much worse situations and could handle herself easily, but he didn’t know the situation in the desert. Zakkai and the others were giving birth to cows, waiting for her call. They’d come to a standstill. Without Caleb, the prime minister would get his wish.

  “I could put you under arrest,” Ben Gurion said.

  “You could, but that would stop nothing. It’s simply a matter of managing the inevitable now.”

  “The Knesset—”

  “I will deal with the Knesset,” Solomon interrupted.

  The prime minister arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “It’s getting the Ark into the country that concerns me.”

  Ben Gurion stared at him. “I may need a submarine,” Solomon said.

  “Through Eilat?”

  “If there is any trouble, it would be safer than through the Sinai.”

  Ben Gurion set his glass down and turned for the door. “I’ll give it some thought. I’m not sure whether or not you’re doing a terrible thing, David. But I think that when the dust settles, most of the world will conclude it is a terrible thing.”

  “Half the world already thinks that our God is a terrible thing.”

  22

  Rebecca slept through the night only because her body refused to stay awake after three days with little rest. Caleb’s last words about the Ark haunted her dreams. Caleb haunted her dreams. When she awoke at dawn, she felt as though a truck had run over her.

  She quickly splashed water on her face from a basin in the tent and wandered into the camp wearing the tunic Miriam had given her. She had to find Caleb immediately.

  But Caleb was nowhere to be found. The boy, Daniel, on the other hand was, and he took it upon himself to educate her about the camp. Her mission loomed large in her mind; she didn’t have the time to discuss desert life with a child. Then again, Caleb was nowhere in sight.

  Two other small children, a boy and a girl, tagged along, but Daniel was twice their age, and he kept them towing a line of respect with surprising ease. Visitors found their way into the camp perhaps once a month, he informed her, usually traders and scientists—the Danakil Desert was too harsh for even most seasoned adventurers. Was he going to be a monk? Yes, of course, the boy responded. In this desert? He’d looked at her as if she were dull in the head. Yes, of course. If you want to swim, you must find water. The desert was a good place to swim.

  It was Caleb-speak. Or had Caleb been speaking Tribe-speak last night? They were all preoccupied with this business of swimming in God’s ocean. They evidently thought he’d moved it to the desert.

  It took her an hour, wandering about with Daniel to find what she was looking for. Caleb was sitting in the sand a stone’s throw from the camp, by the rocks, staring out to the desert.

  Rebecca excused herself and walked to him. In light of last night’s failure, she’d decided that engaging him on an intellectual level would be inadvisable until he showed some sense. That had been her problem—she had tried to engage him as a reasonable person rather than as a woman. He was too busy looking for an ocean to swim in to use reason.

  Rebecca approached him from the side and caught his glance while she was ten meters off. He closed his eyes and pretended not to see her. She suppressed a smile. Was he embarrassed? That was okay, because honestly she was a little embarrassed herself.

  She eased herself down beside him and folded her legs to one side. He seemed determined to ignore her, and she was tempted to reach over and blow into his ear. Clear out the cobwebs. Instead, she looked out to the desert.

  “Stunning, isn’t it? It’s hard to believe that something so white and beautiful can so easily kill. I led my camel . . .”

  “Excuse me,” Caleb said. He pushed himself to his feet and walked away from her.

  Rebecca stared, dumbfounded. How could he do that? What kind of man could just stand and leave a woman without the slightest hesitation?

  She stood, furious. So then, perhaps force was her only recourse. If he refused to even engage her, she had little choice.

  But you don’t want to force him, do you, Rebecca?

  No. She wanted him to respect her, at least. Not as a soldier with a gun, but as a woman. It struck her that his disregard for her was as frustrating as her failure to move the mission forward. And the fact that she would allow her feelings to influence her decisions frustrated her even more.

  Maybe he is taken with you and can’t stand to be distracted.

  “Hello, Rebecca.”

  She spun to the rocks. Father Hadane had materialized from behind and watched Caleb go. He turned his head to her.

  “He won’t be easy, you know.”

  “I’m sorry? Easy to what?”

  “Easy to deceive. You are here to deceive him, aren’t you?”

  Rebecca still hadn’t completely recovered from his sudden appearance. Caleb must have been talking to the old man behind the rocks earlier. About her?

  “Is that what he told you about me?”

  “No. He hasn’t mentioned you.”

  The old man was dressed in a simple tunic; he looked like what she imagined an old Hebrew prophet might look, walking out of the desert.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you’ve obviously been misinformed. I walked into camp—”

  “Yes, I know, Rebecca.” He smiled. “I know where you’ve come from and why you are here. You’re here because you believe Caleb holds the key to the Ark’s location, and you intend to take the information from him.”

  He knew? How? “Really?”

  Hadane just held his smile.

  “And how do you know this?”

  He waved a hand in the air. “I know, I know, I know. That doesn’t matter. You won’t deceive him, and the truth can’t be forced from him. So I’m afraid that you’ve walked a long way for nothing, my dear.”

  Clearly the old man knew her intent. Hiding it now would be a waste of time, and she had wasted enough already. This strange leper seemed to be larger than life despite his small frame. He’d gotten his fingers into Caleb’s mind.

  “Is it in the monastery?” she asked.

  “Your Ark? Only Caleb can tell you that.”

  “Do you know where the oil and the brine meet?” she asked, thinking of the letter Zakkai had read to her.

  “It sounds like a question for Caleb.”

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  “He’s a tortured young man. So very near to God and yet so far. Yes, I like him very much.”

  “And you really don’t think I can deceive him?”

  “No, my dear, you cannot deceive him.”

  “How can I deceive him if he won’t let me near him? Let me test him and we’ll see what happens.”

  He eyed her quizzically. “But you are testing him. And you have failed twice now.”

  “Yes. But what kind of test is this? He’s preoccupied. If you believe the truth you’ve given him can withstand a real test, then put him in the cage with me and we’ll see what he does.”

  “Oh? A cage?”

  “A cage,” she said, mind racing. “Charge him to watch over me. What good is the light if he can’t shed it on the path of a wayward soul who’s wandered into camp? Assign him to me so that he can’t simply walk away every time I talk to him; that’s all I ask.”

  The old man hadn’t moved an inch since first appearing. “And you will try to trick him into telling you what you want to know?”

  “Not necessarily. I will test this truth you’ve filled him with. I will try to persuade him to reject it. That would be the true test of his faith, wouldn’t it?”

  Hadane stared at her, smiling, silent for a few moments.

  “And if you succeed?”

  “If Caleb stumbles from your truth in any way, then you’ll ask Caleb to tell me what I want to know. He’ll listen to you. If I fail, I will leave you.”

  A glint fill
ed Hadane’s eyes. He suddenly broke to his right, fingers on his lips, pacing. And then he paced back again. “Yes. Yes, yes.” He looked up. “You have your wish. Although I doubt you understand why.” He waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. I will tell him to watch over you.”

  Hadane turned and strode for the camp. He spun back after five paces, grinning wide. “You are transparent, my dear, but I like your spirit. You do realize that this is for your sake, not his? No, of course you don’t. But in the end you will. In the end the whole world will see.”

  He swiveled about and marched for his tent.

  Rebecca was seated behind Miriam’s tent an hour later when Caleb walked up, expressionless. He stopped beside her and folded his arms, looking to the horizon. Then he sat with crossed legs. Rebecca did her best not to grin. It was good to be in power again.

  For a full minute they said nothing. She had no intention of rushing. Although it was true that Zakkai was probably climbing the walls back at the monastery, their entire mission depended on her ability to manipulate this man beside her. And she saw that manipulating Caleb might take the full two days she was now allotted. Climbing into his mind and pulling out what she needed was now her only concern, and to be honest, she relished the idea.

  She would use wit, and if wit failed, seduction, and if seduction failed, then reason. And if all of these failed, she would finally resort to force.

  “The Father has asked me to stay with you,” Caleb said. “It is his way to show kindness to strangers and illuminate their paths. We feel you may need some illumination.”

  Rebecca smiled at Hadane’s clever use of her own imagery. “Well I’m lost, that’s for sure. I was beginning to get the impression that you weren’t interested in me.”

  He cast her a side glance. “Yes. I’m sorry, but I was preoccupied.” He looked back to the west, in the direction of the monastery, now two days’ ride away. “I came here confused and lost. But I’ve started seeing things clearly again. Believe me, when you see things of the kingdom clearly, they tend to preoccupy.”

  Yes, of course they do, my dear innocent boy.