Indisputable Proof

by Gary Williams

  “Which begs the question, why would Joseph of Arimathea have engineered such a design?” Tolen remarked.

  “That’s exactly my point. I don’t think he did,” Jade said. She stood, ensuring the robe stayed tightly around her, retying the drawstring. She began to pace, feeling energized by her sudden revelation. She also sensed Tolen’s eyes fixed on her.

  She sat back on the bed and turned toward him, unconsciously laying a hand on his leg. “What do you get when you combine a trident with the country of Greece?”

  Jade looked into Tolen’s eyes. She could feel warmth and kindness, and the depths of his intellect. She became conscious of her hand touching his leg, and she slowly withdrew it.

  Understanding suddenly flashed over Tolen’s face. “The Greek god, Poseidon. Greco-Roman mythology dates back to long before the Christian era. Are you suggesting the cave structure predates Joseph of Arimathea?”

  “Yes. Consider the pilasters with the hundreds of carved faces. Remember how their expressions were twisted in agony? Frankly, there was nothing Christian about them. It’s far more indicative of early Greek artwork.

  “My guess is that those caves and corridors were constructed by the Greeks in the shape of the trident long before the time of Joseph and the Apostles of Jesus, probably to pay homage to Poseidon. Somehow, Joseph knew of this place and decided it would make a good location to house the bodies of the Apostles and the copy of the Gold Scroll, although the twelve rooms holding the remains of the Apostles were surely not part of the original Greek design. Most likely, they were cut during Joseph’s day. The booby trap is a bit of a mystery, though.” Jade settled into a thoughtful expression.

  Tolen interrupted her reverie. “I believe it’s a continuing test. Remember, Joseph’s tomb in Costa Rica was also rigged. Once we rolled the stone off the mound and the tide rose, it was inevitable that the underground rooms would fill with ocean water, yet it gave us a chance to get to the jar and get out. Jade, what was the last line in the original text you decoded?”

  She thought for a moment. “It said, ‘Only the man who has patience, is meager, and holds faith will arrive safely.’ ”

  Tolen repeated, “patience, meager, and faith. I think each of the destinations in the journey requires us to apply one of these rules. In Costa Rica, ‘patience’ referred to dealing with the tidal water.

  “With the caves underneath the Petra, ‘meager’ implied not taking the valuable gold the scroll was etched upon.

  “In both situations, the traps weren’t designed to stop us from reaching our goal, but to make it so we had to be judicious and heed the instructions. We were required to go in, get what we needed, and get out, nothing more. In Costa Rica, we simply took too long, and the tide rose before we put the clue together that we needed to be looking for one of the Three Wise Men’s gift. Here at the Petra, we went against the edict.”

  Diaz and his pocketknife. “And now that fantastic place is lost,” Jade said, discouraged.

  “Jade,” Tolen began, looking intently at her, “what did you see on the Gold Scroll? You kept saying something was wrong with it. You said it was a duplicate of the Copper Scroll then you commented it wasn’t. What did you mean?”

  Jade had completely forgotten about the text. She had read it moments before the room had been set ablaze, and they were running for their lives. She had had no chance to digest the information completely or share what she had interpreted with the others in the ensuing turmoil. “It...it was remarkable. Instead of having more detailed directions which would lead to the location of the 63 treasures listed in the Copper Scroll, the gold scroll implied that the 63 treasures don’t exist. They’re a ruse. Yet it emphatically states the ‘shrine of the earthly objects of Jesus Christ’ does exist!”

  Tolen stood up and walked to the drawn curtain at the window, deep in thought. He pulled back one side, looked out, and turned back to Jade. “That’s exactly what I read as well.”

  “You can translate ancient Hebrew?” she asked in amazement.

  “I’m not fluent, but I understand it on a rudimentary level.”

  Then, suddenly struck with the need for truth, Jade transfixed an inquisitive gaze at Tolen. “Level with me. You have much more than a passing fancy on Christian-era history, specifically as it relates to Jesus. You’ve tactfully avoided responding to my question about your depth of knowledge on several occasions.”

  He offered a small smile that hinted at sadness. He rose from the bed and turned away without a word.

  “I’ve seen that look in your eyes. Something is troubling you,” Jade lowered her voice, “something you can’t seem to accept.”

  He did not respond.

  “How did you get that scar on your forearm?”

  Tolen slowly turned toward her. He regarded her for a moment as he approached, seemingly weighing his options. Then his words flowed with characteristic calmness. “Last month, I was on assignment in Sri Lanka. A family member of a high-ranking U.S. official happened to be there at the same time. The CIA is not responsible for this family member’s safety, but I uncovered information regarding an assassination attempt. I thwarted it, was electrocuted, and received this scar in the process.”

  Jade swallowed. “By definition, the term ‘electrocuted’ implies you died.”

  “I was pronounced clinically dead after eight minutes. Three minutes after that, eleven minutes after the event, I revived in the ambulance. Doctors had no explanation, and I suffered no brain damage.”

  “That qualifies as a miracle in my book,” Jade said unblinking.

  Tolen looked away, down, then back at Jade. A look of mystification washed over his face. His features stiffened. “I’m sure you’ve read about near-death experiences where people report a feeling of warmth and contentment. They see a calming white light which beckons them. Some have seen loved ones who’ve long been dead. By and large, these accounts are consistent.”

  Jade suddenly felt closed in, as if the air around them had tightened into a thick knot. She assumed Tolen’s near-death experience differed, and she was not sure if she wanted to hear it. Yet she had to ask. “Is that what you experienced?”

  He looked her squarely in the eyes, and his voice never wavered. “No, I saw, felt, and heard absolutely nothing…no inner peace, nothing. It was as if I was in limbo, where I floated in darkness.”

  Jade understood. “That’s why you’re so interested. You want an answer regarding an afterlife.”

  “Religions give us explanations which, by their very nature, cannot be conveniently challenged. People believe without a shred of proof because the very essence of religion is belief based on faith. It’s no wonder church parishioners are often referred to as “the flock.” They are dissuaded from thinking for themselves, in applying logic, questioning facts. Churches shun the intellect and covet unquestioning followers. Religion is the one time in life when people don’t want you to be rational.”

  “Surely you must know most doctors consider those near-death experiences physiological, not metaphysical. They’re simply subconscious-driven illusions.”

  “Which makes it harder for me to reconcile. If it were merely physiological, there would be no deviation from one person to the next. I should have undergone the same experience as everyone else.” He paused as he exhaled, still deep in thought. “My father is lying in a coma in Florida. He was in an automobile accident. He had executed a living will. Last week, I visited him on six consecutive days, each day intent on turning the paperwork over to the hospital administrators. I never did. I cannot bring myself to end his life, especially given the uncertainty of what I experienced.”

  Now Jade fully understood. His accumulated acumen regarding Jesus, the Apostles, and the Christian era was not out of concern about his own mortality, but his father’s.

  Tolen inclined his hea
d slightly. “Do you realize the only reason Christians believe in life after death is because of the story of Jesus’ resurrection? Yet throughout history, there have been dozens of mythical figures: Horus in Egypt, Attis in Greece, Krishna in India, Mithra in Persia, to name just a few, who are all said to have virtually the same traits of birth and death as Jesus. Each was born of a virgin mother on December 25th and resurrected on the third day after death. The story of the sun god, Horus, can be found in Egyptian hieroglyphs 1,500 years before the Christian era began. There are hundreds of similarities in the textual story between Jesus and Horus. Most scholars now agree Horus is the basis for the Jesus figure in the Bible. In addition to the virgin birth, Horus is said to have performed miracles and was crucified. It’s plain to see that early Christians plagiarized Egyptian and other cultures and traditions as the foundation for the New Testament, just as the writers of the Old Testament embellished upon the Epic of Gilgamesh to come up with such stories as Noah’s ark. Even discrediting the persistent rumor that Jesus may have fathered a child, all the facts suggest there never was a man named Jesus of Nazareth. He is nothing more than a hybrid; a long line of legendary figures adapted from other cultural myths.”

  Jade looked at him incredulously. “Tolen, are you not influenced by what we’ve discovered, what we’ve seen? The ancient Hebrew clues, the cathedral-like cave in Costa Rica with the incredible frescoes, the underground cave system here on Patmos; I can tell you it’s caused me to contemplate things in a different light. Have you considered that the stone rooms and corridors under the Petra may have been the cave where the Apostle John saw the vision of Jesus and received the inspiration to write Revelations? It was said John heard God’s word from such a fissure in the cave wall. If you recall, the main room with the faces on the pilasters where the corkscrew tunnel emptied had a gaping crevice which led out to the passageway. It fits the description perfectly.”

  Tolen nodded. “Yes, it does, but consider the sickly sweet smell we surmised was some form of accelerant under the bedding of branches and twigs on the floor. I believe when that underground cavern and passageway were first carved out by the Greeks long before the Christian era—as you so astutely surmised—the floor was already holding some natural fluid, possibly crude oil, which had seeped up from the earth. If the Apostle John were down there for more than an hour, the concentrated fumes would have made him lightheaded, causing him to hallucinate. Combine his impaired state and the early Greek artwork on the pilaster with the faces of men contorted in agony, and, in his delusional state, he might have easily gotten the idea for the horrific story of Revelations.”

  Jade countered, “But we found Joseph of Arimathea. We found the twelve Apostles. Isn’t the evidence more compelling than ever?”

  “Jade, we found the remains of men mentioned in the Bible. We have not found concrete evidence of Jesus Christ, and despite the fact mankind has been collecting artifacts related to Christ for two thousand years, none of them hold up under scrutiny. I have to say, in that regard, the ‘True Sons of Light’ are right. Quite probably, mankind is perpetuating a lie. Consider that Jesus was said to be nailed to the cross by three, maybe four, nails. Yet there are 30 ‘holy nails’ in storage across Europe which are revered as holy objects. There are also enough wood chips from the true cross spread across the European continent to build an entire city block of houses. Also, neither the Shroud of Turin nor the Sudarium of Oviedo can be carbon dated to the 1st century. Most recently was the discovery of the 70 lead codices which referred to Jesus found in a cave in Jordan. They were thought to have dated to the 1st century until it became clear from the multiple dialects that, in all probability, they had been forged within the past fifty years. The physical evidence just doesn’t pan out. Your own Stephen Hawking put it best when he said the notion of an afterlife is wishful thinking for those afraid of death.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Tolen answered. It was Diaz. He was carrying a cup of coffee, and he plopped down at the table. Diaz was in casual attire, sporting long pants, a baggy collared pullover, and a corduroy jacket. “Feeling better?” he asked, looking at Jade.

  She nodded. She saw no reason to continue the conversation with Tolen, especially in front of Diaz. Instead, she looked to the table where Diaz was now leaning back, taking another sip of coffee. “Have you looked at the roll?”

  Tolen strolled to the table and lifted the jar delicately. “No, we were waiting for you to wake up.” He gently removed the cap—another small bust of a man—removed the tiny rolled parchment with two fingers, and handed it to Jade. He then tilted the jar, and several pieces of yellowish fragments fell into his palm. As expected, it was gold. He returned them to the jar and recapped it, placing the jar back on the table. He looked at it for a moment curiously.

  “What’s the matter?” Diaz asked.

  “Although this jar appears to be the same size as the Costa Rica jar, it feels considerably heavier,” Tolen said, “and not just because the contents differ. I believe the jar is thicker. Interesting.”

  Jade paid little attention to his remark. She was concentrating on the tiny roll in her hands. The paper felt brittle and aged. Here was another piece of forgotten history, she mused. Similar to the others, the tightly wound parchment bore the same brown discoloration. She held it for a long moment without moving. According to the message inside the stone sphere they recovered from the Harvard courtyard, this was the second of three stone jars. After this one, they had one more to find. Sitting in a hotel room on a Greek island with an America CIA operative and a Spanish police inspector about to continue on a 2,000-year-old treasure hunt seemed more surreal than real. She briefly closed her eyes and then reopened them to make sure she was awake.

  Tolen retook a seat beside her. Again, his cologne wafted into her nostrils. The invigorating scent merged with Jade’s rising anticipation of reading the clue.

  They were actually doing this. They were well on their way to making the most remarkable discovery in the history of mankind. The thought of it caused a tingle to rush up her spine. She fought to discard the shiver without the men noticing.

  She unrolled the small parchment, taking considerable care not to tear the material. Again, there was Hebrew text. She read it aloud:

  Of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, only the Son is charged with holding the contents on high where the ancients knew no god but themselves in the desert. Travel from the north. As David faced the lion, you will face the lion incarnate. Aim at the one on the left, and dig at his right foot. There you will gain entry to the Holiest of Highs. The third jar marks the end of your journey, but all three will be needed.

  The clue was vague and certainly more convoluted than the last one. Her mounting hope turned into complete confusion. She looked to Tolen, hoping he might regale her with knowledge of what the text meant.

  His expression was bland. It was clear he was just as baffled as she was.

  She looked to Diaz who could only offer a shrug.

  The only consolation was the last line. It was specific. In essence, it said, find the third jar and you’re there.

  If only they knew where there was.

  CHAPTER 36

  September 13. Thursday – 3:41 a.m. Isle of Patmos, Greece

  Time was running out. They had just over 30 hours to return the Sudarium to the Cathedral of San Salvador in Oviedo, Spain.

  Tolen lay in bed fully clothed with the lights off in a room next to Jade’s. Diaz was in the next room over from her. They were exhausted and had agreed to get a couple of hours rest before continuing.

  Tolen’s body was wracked with sore muscles and bruises. Fatigue had set in. Since their next move was unclear, though, he fought against sleep, trying to figure out how they should proceed.

  He had continued to dwell on the blown opportunity with the two assailants at the Petra, berating himself for h
aving been so unprepared not to consider an escape via the bay. He had obviously not been thinking clearly. To have any chance of success, he had to galvanize his focus on the matters at hand.

  His cell phone rang.

  “Tolen,” he answered, retrieving it from the nightstand, feeling an ache in his tricep.

  “Hey, did I wake you?”

  “Not at all, Ms. Bar,” he said, sitting up on the side of the bed in the dark.

  “I visited the Roanoke Laboratory where Aaron Conin worked. I confiscated his PC and searched his desk. I found a small capped vial taped under his drawer containing several fibers. They were barely visible to the human eye. I had it analyzed and just got the results minutes ago. The chemical content and makeup are identical to threads examined several years ago from the Sudarium. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any data related to it on Conin’s PC. Either he never had a chance to conduct the tests, or he thoroughly erased all the records. I have the techies trying to recover all deleted files now.”

  “Bar, when was Conin murdered?” Tolen asked as he absorbed the information Bar had fed him.

  “August 24th.”

  Tolen allowed Bar’s words to sink in.

  “Oh, crap!” Bar said. “How did Aaron Conin have access to the Sudarium before it was stolen on August 30th?”

  “Exactly,” Tolen said. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Also,” Bar continued, “remember the receipt you found on Gordon Nunnery from the cleaner in Switzerland? It was dated December 9th. Well, last year, on that same day, your attackers—archaeologists Richard Mox and physicist Gordon Nunnery—flew into Zurich International Airport; and get this: Boyd Ramsey also flew in that same day, but I can’t trace where any of them went after they arrived in Switzerland. None were booked into a hotel, hostel, or any place else I could find.”