Indisputable Proof

by Gary Williams

  “You’re talking about sailing across the ocean 1,400 years before the first Europeans discovered the New World,” Diaz exclaimed in amazement.

  The engines revved up again, and there was a jerk as the brakes released. The plane began rolling down the runway, tires bounding over the rough surface as it picked up speed. Out of sight in the cockpit, Reba Zee flipped a switch that doused the cabin lighting, and the three passengers were mired in darkness, save for the weak light coming in through the windows and the glow of Jade’s computer screen.

  “An early cross-oceanic expedition is not inconceivable,” Tolen cut in.

  Even as the plane rumbled ahead, Jade felt welcome relief that Tolen was siding with her. She offered him a half smile before she realized she had done so.

  Tolen continued. “There is evidence to point toward ancient cross-oceanic travels. In Munich, in 1992, researchers began a project to investigate seven 3,000-year-old Egyptian mummies. A toxicologist discovered the presence of nicotine and cocaine in all seven mummies. Before Columbus, these plants had not been found anywhere in the world outside of the Americas, suggesting there had been trade trips as early as 1500 BCE.”

  Jade was surprised that Tolen was familiar with these findings.

  The cabin tilted, and Jade felt her stomach lurch as the plane left the ground soaring upward. The craft continued to climb sharply. The rumble of the engines threatened to drown out their conversation.

  Tolen seemed unfazed by the gut-knotting takeoff.

  Diaz chose not to challenge Tolen’s facts. “You still haven’t answered the question as to why you want us to stay in the U.S. You’ve already said the stone spheres and the tomb are in Central America.”

  “There are only two Costa Rican spheres we haven’t examined, and they’re both in the United States on display as ornamental pieces. One is in the museum of the National Geographic Society in Washington, DC. The other is in a courtyard near the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnography at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I had just flown to the U.S. to check these two stones when Dr. Cherrigan was murdered in Costa Rica. Then I was on my way to the airport after his funeral to go examine the stone in Washington when I was driven off the road and nearly killed.

  “Now that the killers, these ‘True Sons of Light,’ have Dr. Cherrigan’s notes, they’ll surely go after the stone. Once they discover that the last two spheres are in the United States and get to the correct one, Joseph of Arimathea’s tomb, an archaeological treasure, may be lost to these renegades,” Jade pleaded. She unexpectedly felt a surge of emotions which threatened to bring tears. She valiantly fought them off.

  Tolen spoke in his normal nonplussed cadence. “I don’t see the relevance. Proof of Joseph of Arimathea’s existence does not prove the physical existence of Jesus Christ. It’s not a threat to the ‘True Sons of Light.’ There is no reason to think they will abandon their mantra to take time for an archaeological quest which does not satisfy their directive. While I appreciate the magnitude of the discovery, first and foremost, we need to find Boyd Ramsey. We will proceed to Costa Rica as planned.”

  Diaz nodded in agreement, obviously content with Tolen’s declaration.

  It was not what Jade wanted to hear.

  The plane leveled off and reduced airspeed. The noise in the cabin likewise diminished. With each passing minute, they were moving further and further away from where she desperately needed to go.

  Jade looked at the bright PC screen still displaying the plotted points in Costa Rica. She had withheld the full message from the Copper Scroll, wary of sharing the information with them. With the theft of Phillip’s notes, she was now forced into a position she had hoped to avoid.

  Jade turned to Tolen. The agent was staring out the side window. Diaz had propped his head on the seat rest and closed his eyes.

  “Okay, there’s more,” Jade said in resignation, breaking the silence. She dragged the back of her hand over her forehead, temporarily pushing aside her short dark bangs.

  Tolen slowly turned toward her. Diaz brought his head forward and opened his eyes.

  “Joseph of Arimathea’s tomb wasn’t the only thing mentioned in the coded message.”

  Tolen coaxed her to continue with a subtle nod.

  Jade looked down at the PC keyboard and opened a Word document. “Here’s the translation Dr. Cherrigan and I discovered in the Copper Scroll.” She read aloud:

  I will be entombed far across the waters where I have helped to instill Christianity. Once I told the native people of Christ, they took it upon themselves to create countless numbers of perfectly round stones, as a sign of reverence to the one stone that covered Jesus’ tomb after the crucifixion. These hewn stones are spread in and around their village. The stone sphere with the creature of anonymity will lead to my tomb.

  Jade exhaled, looking up. “What I didn’t tell you is that there was more,” she looked back at the text and continued reading:

  The stone sphere with the creature of anonymity will lead to my tomb...and will start you on your journey of enlightenment. From my tomb, follow the path to the message on the wall. In turn, the message on the wall will lead the righteous man to the earthly objects of Jesus Christ. Only the man who has patience, is meager, and holds faith will arrive safely.

  “Dr. Cherrigan and I believe the earthly objects of Jesus Christ to be a fabled cache of Jesus’ possessions: personal belongings, robes, sashes, sandals, and quite probably objects mentioned in the Bible. The right stone sphere will not only lead us to Joseph of Arimathea’s tomb but ultimately to a trove of artifacts which can be directly tied to Jesus of Nazareth. The value of such a collection would be incalculable, not to mention the single greatest archaeological discovery of all time.”

  “And the ultimate target for the ‘True Sons of Light,’ ” Tolen said. His blue eyes radiated briefly as moonlight cut in through the window on the left side of the fuselage. He opened the armrest of his chair and picked up a telephone handset. Jade watched him push a single button and speak, “Reba Zee, change in plans. We’re not leaving the country quite yet.”

  CHAPTER 9

  September 11. Tuesday – 1:42 a.m. McLean, Virginia

  Morris Vakind strolled down the tiled corridor, passing scores of people engaged in conversation. Every conference room he passed was in use with the doors closed. Somewhere out of sight, he could hear printers at work and the whirring of surveillance monitors. While most governmental facilities in the Washington, DC area had long since gone dormant, the Langley headquarters building was a beehive of activity. The CIA never stopped working.

  Vakind reached the end of the hallway and veered into a small conference room, closing the door behind him. As usual, the tiny enclosure was chilly. He walked to the podium and punched a series of buttons on the control panel. A flat panel screen promptly slid from its recessed groove in the ceiling, and the static CIA symbol displayed onscreen. He took a seat at the short walnut table and glanced at his watch. It was 7:45 a.m. in Madrid, Spain.

  This was not a meeting to which he was looking forward.

  Suddenly, the screen came to life. It was segmented into two panes. The right portion remained as it had been, showing the CIA symbol, although now only half of it was visible. On the left appeared a live head-and-shoulder shot of the President of the United States, Gretchen Fane. Her black hair, with its signature gray streaks, was pinned up. There was a general weariness in her gaze. Her deep, dark eyes indicated another long day. Vakind realized that he probably exhibited the same signs of fatigue.

  “Good evening, Madam President,” Vakind addressed her, “or more appropriately, good morning.”

  “Director Vakind,” she acknowledged. “I’m bringing the Spanish officials on now. Presidente del Gobierno, Luis Jose Tezman will be in attendance.”

 
President Fane’s Spanish counterpart; although he was known as the prime minister in most worldwide media, in the constitutional monarchy of Spain, his official title was president of the government.

  The heat was about to be turned up even higher. Vakind gathered his thoughts.

  The right half of the screen flickered and then burst to life. In the center of the picture was President Tezman. Two men sat on either side of the Spanish president. One had a mustache and the other was bald and clean shaven. All three men were dressed in dark suits and light-colored ties. None of them were smiling. In fact, they wore a collective scowl.

  Thirty-one minutes later the audio/video feed from Madrid cut off, and half of the screen displayed the partial CIA logo. President Fane remained on the other half. It had been a brutal meeting with the Spanish president reiterating his demand that the Sudarium be returned before the start of the Feast of the Cross in 73 hours.

  “Jesus Christ, Vakind,” President Fane started in now that they were the only ones left on the video conference. “I know it’s water under the bridge, but why did Tannacay ever promise to find the Sudarium by this Friday? Not only has Boyd Ramsey disappeared, but no one’s ever heard of the ‘True Sons of Light’.”

  It was a rhetorical question. Tannacay was the former Director of Operations who had convinced the Spanish government to deny that the Sudarium had been stolen after the communiqué from the ‘True Sons of Light’ hit the press. He was trying to cover up that an ex-CIA agent was responsible. From there, the situation had snowballed. Somehow, additional information reached the press—an unconfirmed leak—that a CIA agent was involved. Again, the U.S. convinced the Spanish officials to deny it, but by that time, religious fanatical groups had become suspicious of a cover-up. Sentiment toward the U.S. was already low in Europe, so the fuse to the powder keg was lit. If the Sudarium was proven to be missing on September 14th, all hell was going to break loose, and the target would be any and all U.S. citizens in whatever locations the terrorists could reach them. The whole sordid affair had taken on a life of its own. Tannacay had immediately been relieved of his position. Vakind had assumed the acting role of DO, controlling a staff of more than 1,000 clandestine service operations officers. If he thought his job was hard before, the difficulty had just multiplied exponentially.

  “Madam President,” Vakind spoke, “Samuel Tolen is now assisting in the matter.”

  There was a pregnant pause. “You pulled him off leave?”

  “I didn’t see that we had a choice.”

  President Fane stared at Vakind for a long moment. “Given the circumstances, you made the right decision.” Another pause ensued. “Director Vakind, I have no choice but to warn U.S. citizens abroad by this Thursday, September 13th, if the Sudarium has not been found. I’ll have a press release prepared which will say America has received terrorist threats, and we’re going to DHS security threat level red for citizens traveling overseas. We’ll have to put our overseas embassies and military bases on highest alert. Every consulate must be told of this situation.”

  “Madam President, the actions will be noticed. You’ll be tipping off the fanatical groups that we are, indeed, responsible for the Sudarium’s theft if you do so. We’ll be admitting guilt.”

  “We’ll blame the terror alert on some anti-American faction based in North Africa. It’ll have nothing to do with Spain or other European countries.”

  “You realize it won’t matter, right? It will be seen exactly for what it is: preparation against attacks when the Sudarium is confirmed to be missing a day later.”

  “At this point, Director Vakind, I don’t give a damn. We owe it to our citizens. They will be warned,” she said resoundingly.

  “Understood,” Vakind relented.

  The transmission went dead.

  Morris Vakind leaned back in the chair, locking his fingers behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, contemplating the ramifications. The room was still. Only the low hum of white noise filled the audible void. He agreed with the president’s decision. The protection of American citizens was a top priority. On the flip side, in doing so, it had effectively cut the time to search for the Sudarium and return it to Spain by a day.

  Tolen had been integral in the 2010 on-site surveillance which had identified Osama bin Laden’s compound in Pakistan. Vakind had the utmost confidence in him, as did President Fane, especially after the ordeal in Sri Lanka a month ago. Compared to those missions, the odds of successfully recovering the Sudarium were miniscule, and the timing for Tolen and Diaz, which had already been impossibly tight, had just been squeezed even further.

  CHAPTER 10

  September 11. Tuesday – 2:26 a.m. Flying over New York State

  “Once on the ground, we’ll head directly to Cambridge. Analyst Bar and a CIA operative, Agent Lattimer, are on their way to the Washington, DC, site to check the stone sphere there,” Tolen said after returning from the cockpit. He took a seat beside Jade. Diaz sat across from them. Outside, the engines rumbled, propelling the jet through the dark night.

  Jade felt a continuing rush of optimism. The fact they might actually find information which would lead to Joseph of Arimathea’s tomb brought a feeling of anticipation, yet she tried hard to temper her excitement. She kept reminding herself it was probable the creature of anonymity was not an overt image. If, after checking these last two stone spheres they came up empty, it meant one of two things. Either they had been unable to locate all of the spheres, which was a distinct possibility given how they had been spread throughout Costa Rica over the centuries, or it meant she would have to start examining them all over again. Either way, after the CIA agents checked the sphere in DC, and they examined the Harvard stone, she would have her answer.

  Another potential roadblock was that, even if they found the directions to the tomb, they had no way of knowing if such directions would still be relevant today. Ancient texts frequently mention landmarks which are unrecognizable today or no longer exist.

  Yet, if they did find the stone—and the directions—the possibility existed they would not only find the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, but they would reach the end treasure as well: the earthly objects of Jesus Christ.

  The thought of such a wondrous discovery brought a mild shiver. Suddenly, a sneeze overcame Jade before she barely had time to cover her mouth.

  “God bless you,” Diaz said.

  “Thank you,” Jade said with a nod.

  Tolen spoke, “It’s interesting that the origin of the word bless is from the English word bledsian, which means ‘to consecrate with blood.’ In essence, when you say ‘God bless you’ to someone, the literal meaning is, ‘God bathe you in blood.’ ”

  Diaz stared at Tolen with a raised eyebrow and a disgusted frown.

  Jade found herself suppressing a laugh at Diaz’s expression.

  Tolen flicked an overhead cabin light on, turning toward Jade. “Isn’t it true Jesus is only mentioned in two pieces of literary work in the first century?”

  “I’m not the biblical archaeologist. That was Dr. Cherrigan. But yes, according to what I’ve read, Jesus of Nazareth is referenced in the Bible, of course, and also by the Jewish historian Flavius Josephus.”

  Tolen nodded. “It’s interesting that Josephus wasn’t born until 37 AD. In a single paragraph, he mentions Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, thus confirming his divinity. Oddly, no writer before the 4th century makes reference to Josephus’ text.”

  “And what does that mean?” Diaz said in an irritated tone, inclining his head.

  Tolen continued. “It’s interesting if you consider Flavius Josephus was an orthodox Jew, yet he strongly upholds the Christian ideology with this one paragraph. Strange that Josephus would make such a brief mention of a figure who was considered so prominent.”

  Diaz’s face colored. “Are you no
t a Christian?”

  “We’re not here to discuss my beliefs, Inspector Diaz. I’m simply mentioning the facts.”

  Diaz stared at Tolen incredulously. “These so-called facts…you don’t believe Jesus existed?”

  “I only mentioned the evidence as it has been cited.”

  “You’re asserting that Flavius Josephus, the historian, made up the information about Jesus? Is that what historians in America do? Make up history?” Diaz asked with rising agitation.

  “Actually, I think Josephus was an intelligent man who penned only factual information,” Tolen responded in an even tone. Jade was intrigued at how he remained calm in the face of Diaz’s growing anger, but even she was unclear what point Tolen was trying to make.

  Diaz shook his head in confusion. “Then, Señor,” he half smiled, “you have just contradicted yourself. If he only wrote the truth, and he mentioned Jesus in his writings, then there is your evidence that Jesus existed!”

  “I agree with you.”

  Tolen’s response surprised both Diaz and Jade. Diaz gave a confused smile. Jade watched as Tolen offered her a furtive gaze. At that moment, she realized the other shoe was about to fall.

  Tolen went on. “The fact is, the first person known to have quoted Josephus’ text related to Jesus was Bishop Eusebius about the year 340 AD. The hyperbolic language in this single paragraph—such as the use of the word ‘divine’ and ‘foretold’—was incongruent with the Jewish historian’s style of writing. This has led some scholars to conclude that Flavius Josephus’ tome had been altered, possibly by Bishop Eusebius, and the reference to Jesus was integrated hundreds of years after the original text was written.”