by Tom Haase
Chapter 25
Jerusalem
“Thank you for seeing us, Bishop,” Bridget said as she shook his hand. Scott did so after her.
The Orthodox Archbishop of Jerusalem, a tall man with an erect stature, sported the iconic beard prevalent on all Orthodox priests. The bishop led them into a small office. Bridget remained a little skeptical about Cornelius Jake, but he delivered them right to the door of the bishop’s residents not far from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. The archbishop agreed to allow them to visit on short notice based on Jake's press credentials. Jake said he would meet them back at the hotel later that evening.
“From what I heard from a gentleman who called from the press I understand that you're interested in an ancient Bible. Could you tell me more?” said the bishop as he removed his thick glasses and twirled them in his hand.
“We have reason to believe that one of the original Bibles commissioned by the Emperor Constantine in the fourth century is still extant and is located here in Jerusalem.” Bridget sat down on a small wood chair, while Scott walked over and looked out the window. The bishop's office could not be called plush. Everything here exuded simplicity, both in taste and in accouterments of decoration. The orthodox cross, with the slashed spar over the traditional Roman cross, hung on the wall behind his desk.
“My dear, I have heard of such a Bible, but I can tell you that I do not possess it. If it does exist I would love to see it, but I think you may be on what you call a wild goose chase. I believe I can save you a trip to visit the Armenian archbishop as he and I have discussed the existence of such a Bible and he has sworn to me that it does not exist as far as he knows.”
“Do you think that the murdered Catholic archbishop could have had it in his possession?” Bridget asked.
“I do not believe so,” the archbishop said. “As you may know, the three of us have different religious convictions, but we were friendly to one another, and on many occasions we met to discuss a myriad of topics pertaining to our beliefs. He never mentioned anything about a Bible of Constantine. So I'm afraid I cannot help you.”
“We thank you for your time. By the way, is there anyone you could think of who might have any idea about this Bible?” Scott asked, walking away from the window and standing before the bishop. Bridget stood as he asked this.
“The best person I can think of is an old Franciscan Friar. His name is Brother Joakim. If there exists anyone in Jerusalem who might be of assistance to you, it would be he. I'm sorry I cannot help you and your search.” the bishop escorted them to the entrance of his house.
* * * *
Cornelius Jake drove past the house, parked the car, and walked around the city block. His ploy to get the Donavans to go to interview the two bishops had worked. No matter if they possessed it or not, Jake believed they wouldn't reveal it to someone off the street. He believed the logical place to look was where no one could say they didn't have it—the empty house of the Catholic bishop. It offered at least a one-third chance of being the right place.
The crime scene tape still marked off the archbishop's house. It appeared the same as he observed it earlier in the day. The difference, no one present at this time of night. He leaned against a telephone pole and waited. Ten minutes and no one passed and no one came out of any of the houses. He observed lights going out in windows up and down the street.
Cornelius moved with speed, sliding under the yellow tape, and went to the right side of the house. He took out the small penlight he’d brought to help guide him in the dark area between the houses. He pushed on one side door, locked. Moving a little farther along the wall, his hand felt the opening for a window. When he shone a flashlight beam into the interior, he saw what appeared to be a storeroom with couches stacked to one side of the room and chairs on the other. He pulled on the window and it swung open.
Carefully treading his way through the house, using the small light emanating from his mini flashlight, he reached the main floor and searched for the bishop's office. He made a wrong turn and ended up in the kitchen. Retracing his steps, he found the office after entering two more rooms. Flashing his light around, he could see where bullets had struck different parts of the wall and when the light hit the floor there were obvious blood stains embedded in the wood.
Cornelius took his time going around looking, searching drawers and examining the bookshelves. His search proved futile. The book wasn't anywhere that a person doing a cursory examination after the horrific events that took place in this room would ever find it. After all, the police killed the assailants as they tried to flee. The case was closed for them, and no effort needed to be expended on a detailed crime scene examination.
Soft chanting came to his ears from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. The bishop was killed on Sunday, the feast of the Ascension, according to the newspaper. He flashed the light around the wall opposite the window. The painting came into view. It couldn't be that simple, he thought. Might as well take a look. He walked over to the four-by-six-foot oil painting of Christ's ascension. He put his hand behind the left side of the picture frame and pulled. Nothing, it didn't move. The frame didn't come away from the wall, as it should. He reached to the other side of the frame and pulled. It creaked and pulled away from the wall hinged on the left side.
The flashlight revealed a safe in the wall. He gently pulled on the handle and the door swung open. Inside, he saw a large book. He returned the flashlight to his pocket and used both hands to extract the large tome from the safe. He moved over to the desk in the center of the room and placed the book on it.
Blue flashing lights appeared through the office window—the police sirens blasted at that moment. He picked up the book and retraced his steps down to the lower floor. He found the storeroom with the chairs and the couches through which he’d entered. If he ran outside, they would see him. First, he closed the window he opened for access to the house, locked it, and then he moved over to where the couches were stacked one upon the other and snaked his way into the cavern between two overlapping couches. He could hear footsteps running on the wood floor above. They sounded like the heavy boots the local police wore.
He clutched the book, curled up into as tight a ball as he could with a couch under him and an upside down couch over him, and started to sweat profusely. He waited as the sound of their boots approached the door to this room.
Chapter 26
Jerusalem
Bridget and Scott arrived at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher a few minutes after leaving the archbishop’s residence. Questioning a monk sweeping the front steps about the whereabouts of Brother Joakim resulted in a hand pointing toward an old Friar sitting in the back pew of the church. In their excitement to talk to this holy man, they failed to take note of the beauty of the inside of the church. Illumination came from the numerous votive candles, and the smell of used incense seemed particularly strong.
Bridget approached the Franciscan, who seemed to be in prayer, and coughed a few times. With his devotion to his prayers broken, he turned to look at them. Even in low light the radiant glow of his green eyes evident. He stood up in the traditional garb of the Franciscans, walked to the end of the pew, and came around to greet them. His sandals crunched and squeaked as he walked toward them, his baldhead like a mirror for the flickering candles.
“Peace be with you. May I help you?” said the friar in a low voice.
“May we speak with you outside of the church?” Bridget asked.
The old friar nodded and shuffled toward the door at the nave of the church. Once outside, he went down the steps and they followed him. At the bottom he turned and waited for them without saying a word. Bridget wondered what this old man would think of their quest. From his voice, she recognized him as American.
“Brother Joakim, how long have you been here in Jerusalem?” Bridget asked.
“This is my forty-fifth year here at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Here straight after the novitiate. What may I do for you this late
in the evening?”
“The Orthodox bishop said that you might be able to help us,” Scott said.
“I believe him to be a very holy man even though we have great differences of opinion on certain religious beliefs. But he has always been honorable in dealing with us here as we share the space in this church. His predecessors were not always that accommodating,” the old Friar said as he turned and shuffled toward a bench on the right side of the church. After situating himself, he looked at Bridget then at Scott. “Now what brings you here this evening?”
“We have reason to believe that one of the Bibles of Constantine still exists and is located here in Jerusalem,” Bridget said. “A Catholic priest in the upper Amazon region of Brazil told me a story. He had seen this Bible many years ago while he was studying here. We are trying to locate that Bible. Do you know of it?”
“I learned from my mentor when I arrived here those many years ago about the legend of such a Bible. It is said that it contains a mystical secret that could impact on the way we look at our religious beliefs. Do you know what is meant by the Dormation?” the monk asked.
Scott looked at Bridget with wide eyes and no idea what the monk was talking about. Bridget shook her head, “No, we don't.”
The monk shifted in his position and crossed one leg over the other. “Our Orthodox brethren believe that when the mother of God, the Theotokos, died—her feast day is on August fifteenth—that she was buried before ascending into heaven. The Dormation and the Assumption are different names for the same event, Mary's departure from the earth, although the beliefs are not entirely the same.
“The Orthodox Church teaches that Mary died a natural death, like any human being, that her soul was received by Christ upon death, and later her body taken into heaven as her body was never found in the tomb where it was buried. Her tomb was found empty on the third day.
“Catholic teaching holds that Mary was assumed into heaven in bodily form on her death. Some Catholics agree with the Orthodox that this happened after Mary's death, while some hold that she did not experience death. Both churches agree that her soul went to heaven but not necessarily both body and soul at the same time.”
“What does that have to do with the Bible we’re looking for?” Scott asked.
“You see, in legend at least, it is said that Bible contains the location of the physical remains of Jesus Christ and where they were buried. Now, holy mother Church has declared that Jesus ascended body and soul into heaven as described in the gospel, but it is said that the mother of the Emperor Constantine found the location of the burial crypt containing the earthly body of Jesus Christ after the resurrection. Many believe that only the soul of Jesus ascended into heaven. But who's to say that after the apostles saw Christ ascended that the earthly body didn't remain, just like his mother's corpse? He was buried and somehow Helen found it and reported the location to her son. It would be the greatest secret in the Christian world and at the time the Byzantine Emperor boasted that he served as God's Viceroy on Earth. It is said that he recorded the exact location in the Bible he gave to the Bishop of Jerusalem and had a death oath sworn by him and binding on all his successors to protect the secret in the future.”
“That would change a few beliefs,” Bridget said.
“If it were true, it would cause some problem with the doctrine of the Ascension as held by the Western Church. With today's technology, DNA, etc., imagine what it would mean if that could be captured. But that is all legend. Besides, everyone knows that Jesus ascended to heaven. I fear that someone would have revealed all this many years ago if it were true.” The old monk concluded and stood up. “I'm afraid that's all I can tell you. I'm probably the last person to know these facts as I have not passed them on to the new members of the order as they seem so far-fetched in these modern times.”
“Brother Joakim, it's an unusual name, “Scott said.
“Not to everyone. It is the name of the father of the Blessed Virgin Mary.”
* * * *
While Bridget and Scott were talking with the monk, Msgr. Jonathan McGregor arrived at Tel Aviv by private Vatican jet. After clearing customs with his diplomatic passport and finding the prearranged transportation, he headed for Jerusalem. Customs hadn’t opened his bags nor detected his small PPK handgun. He remembered his last encounter with the Donavans, and the possibility of violence seemed to accompany them on any quest. Prior planning for any such event seemed prudent, and Jonathan was a prudent man. The Vatican travel office located for him the hotel in which Bridget and Scott were staying. He headed there to find out what they knew about this Bible. His mission now centered on recovering last one of the fifty not in the possession of the Roman Church for the Holy Father and returning it to Rome. He would not fail.
Chapter 27
Washington, D.C.
Matt Higgins made a call on his cell to an old friend in Israeli Intelligence and then left the FBI Headquarters. He decided to keep the international police agencies out of the loop on this case, as they were ineffective within the State of Israel, which had its own world famous Mossad for international intelligence and the army for its internal and external security.
Matt's unit's action once saved the gulf oil state of Saudi from experiencing a thermonuclear blast that would have destroyed the major source of the world 's oil supply for generations. The man he called headed army intelligence and owed Matt a favor for his actions.
General Ara Gusman would not be available until the next morning, he learned. Matt left a message for the general that he would be in Tel Aviv in the morning and wished to see him on a matter of great urgency. He said his name, Captain Matt Higgins. That immediately triggered a response from the other end of the line.
“Are you the captain that destroyed Tefik and his gang?” came the query over the phone.
“Yes,” Matt answered.
“Is it true that you stopped the nuclear explosion and killed every member of that cell of terrorists?”
“In reality, it was my team that did it all,” Matt said in a soft voice. He wanted to end this call. “Please tell the general I would like to see him when I arrive.”
“What flight will you be on?”
Matt told him and then hung up. He needed to get to the airport. He took the Metro to Reagan International Airport. He placed a phone call to his partner as he rode from Metro Center on the Blue Line to the airport. He gazed around as he waited for the phone to be answered. His partner doubted that the evidence against Donavan appeared rock hard but he could see nothing to dissuade him from concluding that the Donavan boy committed the act of terrorism. Funny thing that name. His suspect carried the same name as his sergeant during the event the curious person at the general's office had mentioned.
The tape from the Metro station proved to his mind that the man who came off the Metro train was a terrorist. What else could one conclude when the man ran out with the bomb and it exploded a short time afterward? Assuredly, there remained a little problem with the way he acted in getting the people to run from the area, but the guy might be a new type of terrorist. Maybe they now encountered a new group of nuts that wanted terrorism without the killing. Possible, he thought. But not likely.
The call went to Liz's voice mail.
“Hello, just want to let you know I will be in Jerusalem in the morning and will call you then.”
His eyes stopped on something he hadn’t noticed before. It might be able to settle the dispute over the intention of the bomber for good.
“Listen, I know it might not be possible but I think the Metro police impounded the rail car the bomber used. The one I am on riding to the airport has a video camera. I don't think they all do, but it might be worth checking out. Just an idea. Will call tomorrow.”
When he left the Metro car, he realized that he would have to run to catch the shuttle to New York.
Chapter 28
Jerusalem
The basement room door where Cornelius Jake hid flung open. He f
roze in his hiding place under the overturned sofas. The door handle smashed against the wall and a resounding thud filled the room. Cornelius took a deep breath and held it. The pumping of his heart sounded loud in his ears. He didn't want to exhale for fear of being heard. Don't move, don't breathe, don't swallow, he prompted himself.
Footsteps passed by his location under the overturned couch, and he heard the policeman rattle the window he had just secured. He heard the cop shout something that sounded Hebrew. He hoped it translated into nothing here or it's okay or something like that.
When he’d covered the Arab-Israeli war in which he won his Pulitzer, he learned a few words of Hebrew and a few Arabic words as well. The police searching for him hiding under a couch made him feel the same as when he needed to find a safe hiding place during that war. He remembered one incident quite vividly.
He got lost outside of Gaza, and the Egyptian army advanced before the Israelis launched their counter attack. He heard the incoming artillery and saw a door open to a house a few meters away. Getting into that house would get him out of the open. He raced there and in the pitch darkness of the interior ran into a person standing just inside the doorway. They tumbled to the ground, and he heard a woman's voice scream.
She asked something he did not understand. Then she said, “Who are you?” the voice asked in English.
“I'm a reporter covering this blasted war. Who are you?”
“I'm an Israeli caught out here when my Red Cross vehicle was destroyed by artillery fire. You are American. I moved here five years ago to work on a kibbutz.” She started moving toward the rear of the building as the first artillery rounds impacted nearby.
He followed right behind her. “What's your name?”
“Ruth, and yours?”
He told her. They settled into a corner on the floor. A round exploded a few meters from the door, and she grabbed him and hugged with all her might. He could feel her trembling body and at the same time the her fullness.
