Prophecy

by Paula Bradley

  Mariah’s eyes rested on him briefly. Then she brushed past him, heading for the living room and her favorite chair. She dropped into it, waiting for him to sit on the couch.

  Chapter 53

  Mariah wasted no time getting to the point. “I’ve been to Ethiopia. And I’ve brought something back with me.” At the mention of that country, Winters stiffened, his senses on full alert. She stared into his eyes and continued.

  “This object was removed from the Ark of the Covenant and given to me by the High Priest of Judea. He’s the guardian of the Ark. It’s a data storage device, left by a race of aliens who inhabited the Earth millions of years before humanoids evolved. Even though I believe in the theory of evolution, the archeologists and religious historians missed something of vast importance because they weren’t looking for it. Nor would they have known what it was had they found it.

  “Anyway, I can’t open it without the key. And that’s where you and your spy buddies come in.”

  Mariah paused. She watched the minute changes in his facial expression with admiration. Anyone who didn’t know him would think he had remained outwardly calm. But she saw astonishment mixed with anger on his face by the slight raising of his eyebrows and widening of his eyes. And Mariah Carpenter knew he did not want to believe her; he wanted to believe she had gone insane. She also knew he was primed to begin his interrogation. A lawyer might change professions, but the desire to cross-examine was ingrained.

  She raised her hand to silence him. “Before you begin the inquisition, let me throw another piece of kindling on this bonfire. I can assure you that this device and the key have galactic implications.”

  Gabriel’s heart rate began to race. He tried for the cool, calm, and professional demeanor he always tried to maintain, but could not. His face registered shock, disbelief ... and exhilaration.

  He was churning inside. In a few brief sentences, Mariah Carpenter spoke of three topics that were a continual source of speculation and debate: The Ark of the Covenant, aliens, and the evolution of man. He had to be as crazy as her to believe this. But his heightened and avid sense of curiosity made him lean forward. Winters could hardly wait to find out what mysticism enshrouded this object and its key.

  A thought drifted through his mind and he relaxed slightly. She could force me to do what she wants, but she still has integrity. At least she’s giving me the opportunity to accept the assignment and preserve my male ego. But we both know she’ll get what she wants in the end.

  “Since you’ve never been melodramatic before, I’ll assume you’re not being so now. Let’s hear the rest of this unbelievable story.”

  #

  They sat in a sidewalk café in Riyadh, just two men conducting business evidenced by the briefcases and laptops open before each one on the table top. One was dressed in a dark, light-weight blue wool Armani suit, pristine white shirt, patterned red tie, and rectangular aviator Prada sunglasses with green lenses, ostensibly to protect his eyes from the sun’s glare.

  The other man wore a white thawb, an ankle length cotton robe that fit loosely. On his head, a ghutra an iqal , a square red and white checkered head cloth with a double circlet of black cord to hold it in place. Black iridium Oakley Oil Drum sunglasses completed his outfit.

  Winters eyed the man sitting across from him sipping an espresso, appearing relaxed and bored. The word “terrorist” inadvertently popped into his mind. The man was spit-polish clean and his eyes bore the evidence of great intelligence, but the Saudi Arabian exuded a controlled violence more deadly than any religious zealot he had ever encountered. I’m glad we’re on the same side, he reflected.

  The silence between them lengthened as Rashid Ibn Ali Al-Ibrahim tried to come to terms with what had just been dropped on him like a ’57 Chevy. He’d been involved in some pretty preposterous assignments in the past, but this one, at least on the surface, was appalling from a personal perspective.

  Staring into the opaque lenses of the Oil Drum sunglasses, Winters became restless in the protracted silence. Impatience finally caused him to ask quietly, “Can it be done?”

  Without hesitation, Al-Ibrahim replied, “Anything can be done with enough time and imagination, my friend. That is not the issue.”

  Winters agreed. “I understand the religious ramifications. However, you’re the only one capable of executing this mission.” Having given Al-Ibrahim the whereabouts of the key and basically what it looked like, he thought it unnecessary to expound on Mariah’s galactic theory. It was implied that something which would cause Al-Ibrahim to face a firing squad would be of immense importance.

  Gabriel wondered if the Saudi sought divine forgiveness as he watched the Muslim take a deep breath and lower his head. Almost instantly, the Saudi’s head snapped up—and Winters held his breath. If Al-Ibrahim refused the assignment, he would most likely not be able to accomplish the mission, and Al-Ibrahim would be severely sanctioned, maybe even terminated. If he accepted, he would, according to his religious beliefs, be damning his soul to eternal hell.

  “Consider it done. Insha Allah.” Al-Ibrahim smiled wolfishly. “Since my soul has been in jeopardy for some time now, I may as well seal its fate with the most scandalous—and stimulating—assignment I will ever experience. Moreover, I believe my immortal soul will be spared as I seek not the holy object itself, just something inside it. Semantics, but I think I can sell it to my men.

  “Assalaam alaikum.”

  “And peace be upon you, my friend,” Gabriel Winters said, offering back the traditional Islamic salutation. With a promise to phone when all the details were in place, the Saudi picked up his briefcase and computer and left without shaking hands.

  Winters sighed. How he wished he could be included in this operation, once again working closely with the legendary Saudi Arabian, Rashid Ibn Ali Al-Ibrahim. But he no longer participated in field operations, just directed them. Lately, he found himself longing for the simpler days when he didn’t have to play politics.

  Chapter 54

  Rumors of a bomb in the great mosque become more viable to the local militia when a trustworthy informant with his far-reaching contacts whispered horrific information in the police chief’s ear.

  Al-Ibrahim intercepted the panicked call from the police to the appropriate internal division. He and his “bomb squad” were ready. Less than five minutes after the call came in, they left the King Faisel Airport in Mecca, heading for the mosque.

  Praise Allah that it was not the first ten days of Dhu al-Hijja, when more than a million Muslims would be in the holy city for their yearly pilgrimage and would now be packed into the mosque.

  The van sped down several side streets coming to a screeching halt in front of the immensely arched doorways of the mosque. For several minutes they sat idling, waiting for the police to evacuate the last of the stragglers. Impatient as would be appropriate for a bomb squad, Al-Ibrahim hopped down from the passenger side of the van. Striding forward, he zeroed in on the one who seemed to be in charge.

  “Are you in command? Why isn’t everyone out by now?” The voice inside the white protective headgear was muffled. Nevertheless, Alhasan Shobokshi did not miss the arrogant tone of the one obviously in authority.

  “We did our best not to cause a panic,” he said deferentially. Shobokshi wished he could see the face of the man he addressed instead of staring into a black Plexiglas visor.

  “Inexcusable. This place should have been evacuated by now. Quickly: move your men into the street and keep everyone away from the entrance. Also, do not enter the mosque under any circumstances until we are through. Do I make myself clear?” Without giving Shobokshi a chance to reply, Rashid spun around, waving his hand dismissively and trotting back to the van.

  Insulted at being treated like an underling, Shobokshi nonetheless barked orders to his men. As the van disappeared through the archway and into the mosque, the police took positions in the street.r />
  The silence was eerie as the van approached the Kaaba, the “House of God” which dominated the center of the courtyard. Now draped in a dark silk cloth, the Kaaba was built in honor of the one God by Abraham and his son, Ishmael, the founder of the Islamic religion.

  It was late afternoon; the long shadows caused by the weak January sun made the structure appear outrageously immense.

  The van turned toward the southeast corner ... and there it was. The most holy of relics, The Black Stone. The three soldiers in the van desperately tried not to think about what they were about to do. They all volunteered for this mission once they found out they weren’t going to steal the Black Stone and were now obligated to their leader—and their pride—to see it through. When the van stopped, they removed their headgear and efficiently went about their duties.

  The first piece of equipment unloaded was an eight foot long, four foot wide flatbed. However, once the collapsible legs were extended and locked down, it became a rolling cart. Its top, having grooved tracks on the outer edges, was rolled up to the Kaaba.Positioned directly beneath the Black Stone, the wheels were locked.

  The Stone was a sacred artifact to the Muslims. They believed the angel, Gabriel, had sent it because it had fallen from the heavens at the time Abraham and Ishmael were building the Kaaba. Brought to him by desert nomads, Abraham cut it down and made it one of the cornerstones.

  “We’re ready for the HAVOC,” said Al-Ibrahim. Ahmed Assad Suwaidi and Mohammed Bin Saleh Jumaa lifted the Hydraulically Activated Vacuum-Operated Cup out of the van. Sliding its base wheels into the grooved tracks on the cart, they rolled the HAVOC until it stopped six inches from the Stone. When Suwaidi locked its wheels in place with a toggle switch on the control panel, the amber activation lights on the device glowed.

  “Begin,” said Al-Ibrahim. Suwaidi pressed the forward arrow on the control box. A pneumatic arm connected to the hydraulic lifter slid noiselessly from the unit. The pneumatic arm was three inches in diameter with a large black polyurethane suction cup attached to the end.

  A green LED on the HAVOC began to pulse. Everyone heard a loud hssss as the suction cup pressed snugly against the Stone. Suwaidi applied slight pressure to the left arrow; there was a sucking noise, and a vacuum was created.

  No hssss this time, but a growl. The hydraulic arm levered backward, the wheels on the HAVOC unlocked, and the pneumatic arm retracted. Sweat broke out on Suwaidi’s face when he heard the scrape of groaning metal...

  ...and the two hundred-pound Black Stone wrenched free from its silver frame.

  The HAVOC rolled slowly backward. It was stopped after traveling six feet. The men stared at the Black Stone, their holy gift from Allah, held over the rolling cart by the suction cup.

  Fear, like a mantle, settled over Al-Ibrahim whose voice grated harshly. “Get the GRID and be quick.” Jumaa jumped like he was poked by a cattle prod then helped Abdullah Ibn Abdul Wahhab retrieve the last piece of equipment from the van, the Gamma Radiation Imaging Detector.

  The GRID’s black base was positioned behind the stone on the side opposite the HAVOC. Attached to a rod that telescoped from the base was a sensor arm shaped in a half circle. One end was the Source mechanism; the other end, the Detector. Both ends had LEDs on their tips. Both LEDs were red.

  Wahhab pulled a laptop from the van, positioning it next to the GRID’s base. He produced a cable from a pocket in his protective suit. One end he connected to the back of the laptop; the other into a receptacle on the GRID’s base. A few deft keystrokes and the GRID’s screen came on-line.

  He then tapped in some numbers. The sensor arm opened to the width of the stone. An “OK” button was stabbed; the LED on the tip of the Source turned green and the sensor began to rotate around the Black Stone. Over Wahhab’s shoulder, Al-Ibrahim watched a three-dimensional form take shape on the laptop’s screen as the Source drew a graphic image of the Stone. A dialogue box overlaid the image with precise measurements.

  Within seconds, the green LED on the Source turned red and the red LED on the Detector turned green. Another button pressed; the Detector now began its search. After thirty seconds, the GRID beeped and the sensor arm stopped. The green light on the tip of the Detector pulsed.

  It had located something imbedded in the Stone.

  It was Wahhab’s turn to break out in a sweat as his fingers sped over the keyboard. A new dialogue box appeared, superimposed over the first with the exact length, width, and height of the object found by the Detector. It was on the underside of the Stone, close to the surface.

  “I need a quarter turn of the Stone so the device faces me.” Al-Ibrahim spoke in a voice filled with distress. Suwaidi hit a sequence of buttons on the HAVOC’s control box. The pneumatic arm smoothly rotated the Black Stone approximately sixty degrees.

  The information in the dialogue box adjusted to the shift in the stone. The Detector never lost sight of the imbedded object. Al-Ibrahim was unaware of the sweat inside his protective suit as he watched Wahhab hit the “SAVE TO MEMORY” key that locked the object’s coordinates into the GRID’s memory. One more set of keystrokes—and the sensor arm rotated, stopping when the Source was aligned with the memorized coordinates.

  The men eyed their leader. His face expressionless, Al-Ibrahim looked at Wahhab whose finger hovered over the “EXECUTE” button on the GRID’s black base. Time seemed to stand still as the sun’s light grew faint in the early evening sky. A slight breeze blowing from the west suddenly stilled. Even the air seemed to be holding its breath.

  Al-Ibrahim nodded—and Wahhab’s finger pressed the button.

  A thin laser shot out of the Source and began to etch the stone. The men stood rigidly, like marble statues. The laptop screen allowed them to watch the laser skimming around the object. Even though the etch was no more than was necessary, the men cringed at the sight of black dust sifting onto the cart.

  Had they known they were being watched from outside the mosque, they would have made it appear more like they were retrieving a bomb.

  Three teenage boys, each with a set of binoculars, sat on a rooftop which gave them a perfect view into the mosque.

  Initially, they were excited when they thought they’d get to watch a bomb squad in action. Instead, to their horror, they were witnesses to the removal of their most holy and sacred object.

  Chapter 55

  Taking a deep and, he hoped, steadying breath, Rashid Ali Al-Ibrahim approached the Stone. He reached into one of the deep pockets in his protective suit and retrieved a pinpoint chisel and metal hammer. With his hands slightly trembling, he slid the chisel as far as possible into the etch created by the laser which had defined the shape of the object imbedded in the Stone. When he met resistance, Al-Ibrahim raised the hammer and tapped it sharply against the crown of the chisel. The thonnnnng caused by metal striking metal echoed loudly in the unnatural silence. His heart raced but his hands were steady as he proceeded quickly around the entire etch: insert chisel, tap; insert chisel, tap; insert chisel, tap. With the last strike, the piece of stone that covered the buried object hit the table with a thunk.

  And there it was. Less than an inch from the surface of the Black Stone. In another pocket of his suit, Al-Ibrahim produced a plastic rod with a suction cup attached to the end. He jabbed the suction cup against the object and tugged gently on the plastic rod. When an overwhelming sense of uneasiness suddenly gripped him, he yanked more forcefully.

  With a sound like gravel being crunched underfoot, it finally pulled free.

  He stared at the oblong-shaped object—smooth, black, shiny—no more than five inches long and three inches wide. After several heartbeats, he murmured, “All for this.”

  Shaking his head, Al-Ibrahim gave his men their final orders. As they began to disassemble the equipment, he removed the black object from the suction cup. Taking it back to the van, he dropped it and the rod into a velvet pouch then slid it inside a fur
lined velvet sack attached to the metal brace under his seat.

  #

  The boys on the rooftop who had spied on the “bomb squad” didn’t wait long enough to see something extracted from the Stone. Seconds before the laser began to cut into the holy relic, they slid off the roof, running at full speed to alert the police that “the Black Stone is being stolen!”

  #

  Bin Saleh Jumaa broke down the GRID while Suwaidi rotated the stone on the pneumatic arm so the hole created by the removal of the object now faced downward. Once again the HAVOC rolled slowly forward and aligned the stone with its silver frame. The pneumatic arm began pushing the stone into the opening.

  Just as Al-Ibrahim thought they might actually get away with it, he heard loud voices in the direction of the archway that led into the pavilion. His men froze.

  “Don’t panic,” Al-Ibrahim hissed at the terrified look on their faces. “They don’t know what bomb detection equipment looks like. And in the name of Allah, don’t cringe like you’ve done something wrong.

  “Suwaidi, get the HAVOC away from the stone immediately even if it’s not finished.”

  As the voices became louder, Suwaidi released the suction cup and ripped the HAVOC off the tracks, nearly throwing it at Wahhab who turned with it in his arms, his intention to stroll calmly back to the van. Al-Ibrahim was satisfied with their actions, watching Jumaa begin to break down the rolling cart.