The Caleb Collection

by Ted Dekker

  Abu eyed him. “We have to keep this strictly silent. We don’t need another Yom Kippur War.” The Israelis had sniffed a rat then and launched a preemptive strike that had crushed Egypt’s air force.

  General Nasser cleared his throat. “We know that some of your leaders would find it difficult to resist stirring things up with rumors. But doing so would also stir up the Jews and neutralize our plan. We depend on absolute silence about the Ark. It’s not an issue of avoidance—it’s integral to our strategy.”

  Du’ad didn’t respond to the insinuation.

  “Allah will be glorified,” he said.

  30

  How they’d managed to beat the Arabs to the monastery, Rebecca couldn’t know. Maybe the other soldiers hadn’t discovered Ismael as quickly as she’d assumed they would. She had led Caleb in through the back, and her soldiers couldn’t have appeared more relieved.

  Zakkai had hovered over her like a father, beside himself to see her with Caleb in tow. His key had arrived, and he could obviously hardly wait to give him a try. He couldn’t seem to look away from the man. He ordered them to eat and drink—there was much work ahead.

  Rebecca immediately dispatched guards to the perimeter and a sniper to the tower. The Arabs would be coming at any time.

  They sat in the kitchen with Samuel, and she quickly ran down the events of Michael’s death and her subsequent tracking of the caravan. She left out details then, of course. There was no way to describe what she’d seen without sounding half mad. She had taken Caleb; that’s what mattered. He was here. They had their key.

  Rebecca avoided eye contact with Caleb for the simple reason that she was afraid that looking into those green eyes of his might be regarded by one of the others as more than it was. Of course, there would be no more-than-it-was to her looking, because there was no more than it was. On the other hand, he seemed to have cast a spell over her and the last thing she needed was to show it in front of her men.

  Actually the whole thing was a bit confusing. Rebecca concentrated on the task at hand. They had a mission to finish, and at any minute they would find themselves in an engagement with the Arabs.

  “May I see my parents?” Caleb asked.

  She looked at him. Now his eyes did sink into hers and she took a drink of water. “Where are his parents, Samuel?”

  “In the study.”

  “And where is Avraham?”

  “Below.”

  “Below doing what?”

  Samuel glanced at Zakkai. “Laying dynamite.”

  Rebecca looked at each of them. “I thought I ordered you not to use dynamite.”

  “You have to understand, we thought—”

  “Regardless of what you thought, we did not come to Ethiopia to blow up monasteries. This was Avraham’s doing? Is he using timed charges?”

  “It was Avraham’s idea. But we agreed. I don’t know what kind of charges.”

  If not for Avraham, Zakkai would never have agreed, she thought. “And if Avraham suggested killing the hostages, would you do that as well?”

  “Actually, he did. And no, I did not agree.”

  For a moment no one spoke. Rebecca set her mug down heavily. “Bring Avraham to the study. And hurry, we don’t have much time.”

  Caleb’s mother ran to him, took his face in her hands, and kissed each cheek. “I was so worried.”

  “It’s okay, Mother. I was in good hands.”

  Leiah glared at Rebecca.

  Jason put an arm around Caleb’s shoulders. “Boy, you had us worried. Where have you been?”

  “In the desert.”

  Jason lifted an eyebrow.

  “A caravan of monks found him,” Rebecca said.

  “No thanks to you,” Leiah said.

  “I brought your son back in one piece,” Rebecca returned. “You should remember that.”

  “You laid siege to his home and chased him into the desert. You should remember that!” Leiah said. “If it served your purpose, you’d probably slit his throat.”

  Rebecca wondered at the anger behind those words. The boy’s mother was obviously a strong woman, but she hadn’t expected such a biting resentment. Why are you so angry, Leiah? Your son is a good man, and I’ve grown to care for him.

  The door suddenly slammed open and Avraham walked in. He stood by Samuel and stared at the gathering. “All together like a happy family, are we?” He eyed Caleb. “I’m surprised you made it back alive.”

  “Surprised?” Rebecca asked. “Or disappointed? I want you to remove the charges you’ve laid immediately.”

  Avraham’s jaw flexed. “Has he told you what you need to know?” he demanded, glancing at Caleb.

  “No.”

  Avraham grinned. “You couldn’t . . . coax it out of him?”

  Heat flared up Rebecca’s neck. “We were in the desert, you idiot.”

  “Yes, exactly. All alone, together, in the desert. Plenty of time to be . . . persuasive,” he said, drawing out the last word. “If you don’t have the key yet, then either you’re the idiot or he doesn’t know it.”

  The room suddenly felt very stuffy. Rebecca could feel Leiah’s glare on the side of her face. “Keep your fantasies to yourself, Avraham. I don’t have the time to argue with you. We were followed by a band of Arabs who may be coming over the hill as we speak. You’ll remove the charges or I’ll have Samuel put you under arrest.”

  A shadow crossed his face, but it didn’t mask a thin smile. “Give him to me for five minutes and I promise you, he’ll tell us what he knows.”

  “If you lay a single finger on him, I’ll kill you,” she said. She meant it to be matter of fact, but it came out like the hiss of a snake. Avraham’s eyes squinted very briefly. He saw it, she thought.

  “You have a soft spot for him, do you, Rebecca? The mighty soldier has discovered that she is a woman after all?”

  “I’ve discovered what we came to find. Caleb. Without him we are lost. Samuel, please take Avraham and see that he removes the charges. If the Arabs arrive, then leave the charges and take your positions. But if I find that you’ve laid any charges set to go off after we leave, I will charge you with insubordination. Insubordination in the field is punishable by death. I promise you that I’ll kill you myself. Now leave.”

  Avraham left wearing a scowl that sent a butterfly through Rebecca’s gut.

  She glanced at Caleb, saw that he was staring, and immediately removed her eyes. They met Leiah’s, who had a brow arched. Dear God, help me.

  Zakkai saved her.

  “Rebecca, we must hurry. We must take Caleb down.”

  “Of course. The radios work down there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then show us what you’ve found, Professor.”

  Two torches blazed on the wall of the ancient subterranean room in which Caleb had lived as a child. An old table, its chairs, and a long bookcase loaded with over a hundred books were the only furniture. Rebecca took it in, lost in the wonder of how a boy could have lived here, so removed from the world.

  Caleb was the last to enter. The ladder creaked, and Rebecca turned to see him descend, feet first. Jason and Leiah stood on her right. Zakkai waited in the shadows by the entry to another room, like a science fair winner, waiting to show off his exhibit.

  Caleb set his feet on the dusty clay floor and stopped, his hands still on the ladder. He turned slowly and looked at the walls as if lost in a dream. The torchlight glinted off his eyes. He was going back to the past, Rebecca thought. For a moment she let herself go with him, a child in a musty room full of books. A lonely child.

  Caleb’s eyes watered. A faint smile crossed his face.

  No, not a lonely child. A sacred child.

  “You remember your room, Caleb?” Zakkai asked softly.

  “Yes.” He looked at Rebecca. “This is where I grew up.”

  She smiled, unsure of how to respond. Caleb was addressing her instead of his mother. Leiah was looking at her again; Rebecca could feel her eye
s.

  “I spent many days here with Father Matthew,” Caleb said. “I can’t believe the room survived intact.” He reached out and touched the bookcase with his fingertips. He suddenly turned back to Rebecca, smiling wide now.

  “I read all of these books, you know! Every one of them.”

  “That’s a lot of books for a child,” she said.

  “Yes, it is.” He walked towards the arched entry by Zakkai, excited now. “And that was my bedroom! I can’t believe my bedroom survived!” He stooped and entered. “My bed’s still here!” They followed him in.

  “And the painting above your bed was still here, Caleb,” Zakkai said. “We removed it and found that space.”

  The plaster was broken, revealing a small cubbyhole.

  “Father Matthew left you something. Go ahead; it’s still there.”

  Caleb glanced at Zakkai and then reached in and withdrew a rolled letter. He pulled it open and read it. The note was short—the same Rebecca had been read over the satellite phone.

  Caleb,

  You alone know the secrets of this majestic rock we shared for a home. It was a gift from God. My dear sweet one, you will know. Where the brine mixes with the oil, there you will find God. Only you will know.

  I am flying now, Caleb. We will fly together again. I cherish you more than life.

  Matthew

  “Where do the oil and the brine mix, Caleb?” Zakkai asked.

  He looked up, wide-eyed. “In the heart.”

  Zakkai nodded. “And where is the heart of the monastery?”

  “The heart of the monastery?” He looked puzzled. “The foundation below the study,” he said from memory. Of course! The heart was a place! The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind.

  Zakkai exchanged a quick glance with Rebecca. The torchlight glistened off his sweaty brow. “You are sure?”

  “That’s what Father Matthew used to call it. You think . . .” Caleb blinked.

  “Show us, Caleb.”

  Caleb led them to the corner behind the last bookshelf, a dimly lit section of the room that housed rows and rows of dark brown leather books. He pointed to the floor. “Somewhere under here,” Caleb said.

  “Somewhere?”

  “When we rebuilt, we covered over it, but there used to be a small hole in the floor where Father Matthew kept papers and a few very old books. He called it the heart of the monastery. It was here”—he moved his hand in a small circular motion—“in this area somewhere.”

  “A hole. What size?”

  “Small. Like a shoebox.”

  Zakkai looked at Rebecca.

  “Not exactly the size we were looking for,” she said.

  “Okay, please stand back everybody.” They did. He paced the bare floor, roughly six by eight. From his belt he withdrew his ball-peen hammer and lowered himself to his knees. He began to tap on the concrete.

  “Any idea what kind of papers he kept in this safe, Caleb?”

  “No. But they were very important to him.” He looked up at Rebecca. “Maybe something from the desert.”

  “What was in the desert?” Zakkai asked.

  Rebecca answered. “The tribe of monks Father Matthew used to live with, before coming to the monastery. They have their own codes.”

  “Hmmm.” Zakkai tapped several times every eighteen centimeters along a line and then started back up another line. They watched him silently now—only the dull clack of steel striking thick concrete sounded. At any moment her radio would crackle with news that the Arabs had come. Rebecca felt her palms tingle with the thought. They were on the verge of failure here and time was nearly out. They could hold off the Arabs for a day or two if Ismael didn’t have explosives, but she knew that he must. Grenades at least—she had seen those on several horses back at the camp. If they had grenades, they probably had dynamite. She had nine men including Avraham. The Arabs had ten and Ismael. If Avraham—

  A distinctly hollow sound interrupted her thoughts. She jerked her eyes to where Zakkai knelt, frozen over the cement.

  He glanced at them and then struck again.

  Deep below their feet the blow echoed, as if he’d hit a cement drum. Zakkai swallowed and spun to her. For a moment they locked stares. And then the professor was on his feet.

  “Give me the pick!”

  Jason gave him the pickax.

  “Stand back!”

  “Easy, Professor,” Rebecca said. “You’re using a pickax.”

  “Of course I am! We don’t have all day, do we?”

  “No.”

  “Then please stand back. The fragments can sting.” He swung once, with all his weight, and the tip chipped an inch deep. He swung again and sparks flew. Ten swings later he stood back, panting. He’d managed to do little more than dent the floor.

  “Give it a go?” he said to Jason.

  Jason took his turn. For five minutes the two beat at the floor, switching off every minute or so. A six-inch slab suddenly dislodged itself and Jason picked it up.

  “This is the new floor we poured over the old.” He pointed at the rough gray floor now exposed in a rough six-inch circle. “That’s the old.”

  Zakkai took the pickax and swung at the spot. They worked without talking, chipping up the floor in tiny bites. Rebecca became aware that Caleb was standing next to her, and she looked at him. He watched the work, unsure. They were demolishing what was probably once a sacred part of his life. Or perhaps he was worried about what they would find. The Ark wouldn’t bring peace, and Caleb didn’t know anything but peace. Why would he want the Ark discovered? He wouldn’t. He had led them to this spot almost incidentally, without really thinking they would find anything.

  In truth, she herself couldn’t imagine finding anything. It was a last-ditch effort in a long line of last-ditch efforts. They would find nothing but an old black hole and then they would fight their way home.

  And if they did find a golden Ark? The notion wasn’t unlike the notion of finding Atlantis.

  Rebecca wasn’t even sure she wanted to find the Ark any longer. Hadane had said that the Ark wasn’t the vessel of God. He was. Man was. If Hadane and company had turned out to be a band of witless fools, she might feel differently. But they had proven their wit with power, and they believed that the Ark would bring nothing but war. For a fleeting moment, the idea grew in her chest, and she found herself hoping the Arabs would arrive.

  But that was crazy. She had dedicated her life to rebuilding the Temple! Finding the Ark would mean rebuilding the Temple, regardless of what Hadane, or Caleb for that matter, said. She wiped her palms on her dungarees and watched the dismantlement. She was losing her moorings, she thought.

  Her radio suddenly squawked. “We have men and horses on the eastern perimeter. They’re here!”

  As one they froze. Zakkai had just swung and he looked up, wide-eyed and panting. Sweat drenched his shirt, rendering it translucent against his hunched back. His hair was a disheveled tangle.

  “They’ll pin us down, Professor,” Rebecca said. “If we lay down covering fire from the tower, we could get out now to the west before they know we’ve gone. We have the lorries.”

  “And leave this mystery unanswered? If we leave, they’ll kill the monks. And Caleb.”

  Rebecca didn’t answer. He was right, the Arabs might very well let them escape and take over the monastery. She turned on her heels and keyed the radio.

  “Where are you, Samuel?”

  “The bell tower.”

  She strode for the door. Behind her Zakkai began to swing again. “Open fire. Let them know we’re here and don’t want to be bothered. Hit them hard.”

  “Daniel, how many do you see from the road?” Samuel’s voice was calm. High above them the sound of his M-14 boomed.

  “Ten. Eleven,” came the reply.

  Behind Rebecca, Zakkai suddenly gasped. She stopped at the door and keyed her mic. “That’s all of them. Keep them in sight, and don’t let them get close enough to use grenades. If
you lose them, I want Daniel back inside.”

  Above her the M-14 boomed again, joined by short bursts of automatic weapons fire to her flanks. Zakkai was staring down at the floor. He jerked his head up. “There’s a room!”

  Rebecca spun around. “A room?”

  Zakkai dropped to his knees and peered at a small hole in the concrete.

  “I think I’ve broken into a room.” His voice echoed softly. “It’s dark and quite large.”

  They had to deal with the Arabs, or it wouldn’t matter what Zakkai had found. “How long will it take you to clear a hole big enough to enter?”

  “Fifteen minutes.” Zakkai sprang to his feet and attacked the hole like an animal.

  “I’ll be back,” Rebecca said. “The rest of you stay here.” She ran from the room. A loud explosion suddenly rocked the ground near the west end. The Arabs weren’t messing around.

  31

  Ismael sat on his horse behind an outcropping of boulders and studied the monastery through his binoculars. His men had dismounted at the first engagement and returned fire from cover along the hill overlooking the valley. The Jews had opened up with a full assault even before they were in range, which could only mean that Rebecca and Caleb had arrived and expected them. They were sending a message. One of the men had managed to launch a grenade, but had been forced to retreat under heavy fire.

  “Sir, we should flank them,” the captain said beside him. “They might try to escape out the back.”

  Ismael lowered the glasses and pointed to the hills across the valley. “Put two men on that ridge and two men on the north ridge. Make sure they let the Jews know they are there.”

  “Immediately.”

  Captain Asid left and barked orders down the line. Four men scrambled back, mounted their horses, and galloped off under the cover of the hill.

  The episode back in the canyon still haunted Ismael like a bad nightmare. The one they called Caleb had stripped him of his dignity with a few words, and Ismael still could not comprehend what had followed. He’d been overcome by sorrow. The world had become transparent for those few moments and the thought of pulling his trigger to send this robed man to his grave had felt obscene. Then he’d actually tried to kill him anyway, and his finger had refused to cooperate. The sorrow had taken over his mind then. It had become unbearable and he’d fallen. When the captain found him, he’d sworn the man to secrecy. He’d become ill, he insisted, and the men had no business knowing.