by John Sneeden
“It almost sounds like it became the capital of Satan’s kingdom,” Carmen said.
“In some sense, that’s true. But later, something very interesting took place there,” Roger said. “Someone representing the forces of good would enter that territory with bold aggression. He would stand at the very foot of Mount Hermon and announce that Satan’s kingdom would one day be brought to an end.”
“Who was that?” Carmen asked.
Roger beamed. “Jesus Christ.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“JESUS CHRIST WENT to Mount Hermon to challenge Satan?” Carmen asked.
Before answering, Roger picked up his pipe and tapped it against the inside of an ashtray. He filled a third bowl. “Well, he wasn’t technically on the slopes of Hermon, but he was in the shadow of Hermon, and it was no coincidence he chose that location.”
Roger sat back in his chair. “In the sixteenth chapter of Matthew, it says Jesus went to Caesarea Philippi. If you look at it on a map, you’ll see it’s squarely in the middle of ancient Bashan, the place I referred to before.”
“Why don’t I just read it?” Amanda pulled up the passage on her phone.
“Please do.”
Roger lit his pipe as Amanda cleared her throat and began reading:
When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?”
They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”
“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”
Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”
Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock, I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it. I will—
“Stop there.” Roger held up a hand. “Notice the last part of the last verse: ‘and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.’ Can his use of those words truly be a coincidence? Think about it. He spoke of the gates of hell with Mount Hermon towering in the background.
“Now ask yourself this. Who was his audience? Was it just the disciples assembled in front of him? Of course not. I think the whole event was calculated. This was a battle cry against all the forces of darkness who called Mount Hermon their home. He was telling them his death, burial, and resurrection would bring about their spiritual destruction.”
“I thought it was interesting he referred to the gates of Hades,” Carmen noted.
“Precisely!” Roger seemed pleased she comprehended his point. “He could’ve simply said Hades, but instead, he chose his words carefully.”
Zane frowned. “I think I’m with you so far. Jesus may have been indicating the very gates of hell are somewhere near Caesarea Philippi. So where, exactly?”
“That’s a good question,” Roger said. “There is an oral tradition among Jewish sages and mystics, as well as a few cults, which indicates Mount Hermon holds the entrance to the underworld, a deep chasm that descends to the very center of the earth. These same traditions claim the Watchers—the fallen angels—constructed underground temples at the entrance. Supposedly, they were the forerunners to the temples that would later be built outside on the mountain’s slope.”
“And the key?” Zane asked.
“The legends say the Watchers knew they were going to be punished by God, so they sealed off the gate and forged a key. It is said that no one can pass through the gate unless they have that key. Some even believe only those committed to the powers of darkness can use it.”
“So how did this key make its way to the National Museum of Iraq?” Zane asked.
Roger puffed on his pipe for a few seconds. “The Iraq we know today has only been around for about a hundred years. Do you know what nation occupied that real estate in ancient times?”
“Babylon,” Amanda answered for him.
“Correct. And like Bashan, Babylon was also a place known for occult practices and dark arts. There is no way of knowing for sure, but the thinking is somehow it came into the hands of King Nebuchadnezzar during one of the raids on Israel. At this point, who knows?
“All we know for sure is that, in the nineties, word got out that Saddam had shown the key to a number of visiting foreign dignitaries. During some of the galas, he would take some of the drunken guests on a tour of the museum’s vaults, showing them treasures that would never be shown to the public.”
“Why didn’t word get out?” Amanda asked.
“I’m sure it did in some circles,” Roger answered. “But most thought it was some stunt fabricated by a dictator trying to impress his guests.”
Silence fell over the group. Roger puffed on his pipe while the others remained lost in their thoughts.
Zane’s mind had already transitioned to another topic. “Some group now has the key. Do you have any idea who they might be?”
“At first, I had no idea who it might be. But as I shared a few things with you tonight, a name entered my thoughts. It’s an organization that has been around for a long time. Some say they’ve been around in some way, shape, or form for several millennia.”
“What’s the name?” Zane asked impatiently.
“They’re known as the Order of Baal,” Roger answered.
“The same Baal mentioned in the Bible?” Amanda asked. “The false idol worshiped in Canaan and Phoenicia?”
He nodded. “And don’t forget the slopes of Mount Hermon. He was worshiped there as well. In fact, the leadership of the Order claims to descend from some of those early adherents.”
“Why would they want the key?” Zane asked.
“My guess is it’s related to their reputed interest in pagan worship. I’ve read they have an apocalyptic worldview, so they may hope to usher in the end by opening this gate.”
“Which is probably why they want the map as well,” Carmen noted. “At this point, I think it’s safe to assume Pauling’s map shows the location of the gate.”
Roger pulled the pipe out of his mouth. “Didn’t you say you have a picture of it?”
“I have a digital copy.” Amanda picked up her tablet and searched for the image. A few seconds later, she found it and handed him the device. “Here it is.”
Roger took out his own phone. “Do you mind if I take a picture?”
“Not at all.”
After taking a photograph of the screen, Lawson set aside his phone and studied the image closely. “There is something about it that seems familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”
Camilla scooted her chair closer to his. The two sat silently for a long time, their eyes moving back and forth as they studied the image. At this point, it was hard to tell what either was thinking.
After several minutes, Camilla’s eyes seemed to widen slightly. “Oh, my heavens.”
“What?” Roger looked at his wife, who whispered something Zane couldn’t hear.
“You really think that’s it?” Roger asked.
“Look at the way it forks here.” Camilla pointed at something on the screen.
The last comment seemed to have an effect on him. He continued staring for a moment. “I think you might be right.”
Zane was already tired of the cryptic conversation. “Mind filling us in?”
“Until I get a chance to compare it to some other images we have, it’s impossible to know for sure,” Roger said. “But the map looks like a system of tunnels we’re familiar with.”
“It’s a partially excavated archaeological site here in Israel,” Camilla said. “It showed early promise but was later abandoned due to a lack of funding.”
“Where is it located?” Zane asked.
Roger and Camilla looked at each other, then Camilla answered, “That’s the interesting thing… The tunnels are located under Mount Hermon.”
Zane’s pulse quickened. An ancient order was t
rying to open the gate to hell. They had the key, and the only thing they needed was the location of the gate.
“The archaeologists didn’t find much in the tunnels. Therefore, many didn’t think they were significant.” Camilla looked at her husband. “But Roger and I always believed it held great significance. We just didn’t know what.”
“I’m not familiar with that site,” Amanda said. “Can you show me where it is on a map?”
“We can do better than that,” Roger said. “We can take you there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Jerusalem - Mount Hermon
ZANE LOOKED TOWARD the horizon with a sense of dread. A wall of dark clouds moved in from the west like some giant curtain being pulled across the sun. The wind had picked up as well, blowing sand and debris across the highway. He hoped they’d reach the tunnels before the worst of the storm hit.
Carmen seemed to sense his angst. “The good news is we’re almost there. I’d say another hour or so.”
“Let’s hope it moves through fast.”
Carmen looked down at her phone. “Don’t think so. It’s a monster storm, and I think it’s going to sit for a while. The good news is it’s going to turn to snow in the higher elevations.”
“How is that good news?”
She shrugged. “I’d rather deal with frozen stuff than be soaking wet.”
“Are we there yet?” Pratt asked, enjoying how much the phrase irritated the senior operative.
Zane looked at Carmen. “Did we pick up some teenagers at the last stop?”
“Bite me,” Pratt retorted.
Zane stole a quick glance in the mirror. The rear of the CIA-owned cargo van was customized with leather seats and several light metal storage cabinets. All of the windows were outfitted with heavily tinted bulletproof glass. It was probably overkill for this operation, but Zane wasn’t about to argue with the arrangements the Agency had made on their behalf.
The group in the back seemed subdued. Amanda and Emily rested with their eyes shut, while Reid and Keiko watched the passing terrain in silence. Pratt was the only one moving around. At the moment, he was wiping down his Heckler & Koch pistol.
Zane turned his attention back to the road. A green Land Rover cruised a few car lengths ahead. Roger and Camilla Lawson were two of the occupants, along with the redhead Zane had seen in the hallway the night before. The mystery of her identity had been solved earlier in the day when they rendezvoused at a petrol station outside Jerusalem. Her name was Kimberly Blake. Roger had introduced her as the project manager of his digs, but her physique and steely gaze told Zane she probably provided security as well.
Roger was surprised to learn there were four other members of Zane’s team. At first, he seemed concerned he hadn’t been told, but after some interaction with the group, he appeared to be more at ease. Zane didn’t reveal Keiko’s identity. That was one of several things he’d held back. The robot wore thick clothing and a baseball cap she pulled down over her face. In addition, Carmen had given her strict instructions not to engage in conversation unless absolutely necessary.
“This is interesting.” Carmen stared at something on her phone. “There is a place called Banais at Caesarea Philippi. It’s a nature reserve now, but it used to be a Greco-Roman city in the time of Christ.” She traced something on the screen with a finger. “At the northern end of the reserve is an ancient site known as the Grotto of Pan. An ancient cult worshiped the Greek god Pan there. Anyway, the reserve sits against the foot of Mount Hermon, and there are a series of caves in the rocky slope there. Guess what they’re called?”
“The gates of hell,” Amanda answered. “Banais is where some believe Christ spoke those famous words about the gates of hell.”
“Maybe that’s where we’re going,” Carmen suggested.
Amanda shook her head. “No, I asked Roger last night. He said that’s a common belief, but the real caves—the ones that cut into the heart of the mountain—are located at higher elevations.”
“The pictures look really creepy,” Carmen said. “You can almost believe it’s the gate to hell.”
Zane leaned forward and looked up. The leading edge of the storm was directly overhead now. “We may be thankful to get inside those creepy caves if these clouds open up.”
A mixture of snow and rain began to fall as the two vehicles entered the farming community of She’ar Yashuv. The elevation would rise from here, meaning the precipitation would soon make a full transition to snow. Carmen was right, Zane thought. With the cold temperatures arriving, snow would be preferable to soaking rain.
After leaving She’ar Yashuv, the caravan passed through Caesarea Philippi then made its way up the southern end of the Hermon mountain range. Twenty minutes after beginning the ascent, Roger turned onto a rural route that cut west into the mountains. There was no traffic here. In fact, there seemed to be no life at all.
Brake lights shone ahead. The Land Rover was slowing.
“Looks like there’s a turnoff,” Emily said.
On cue, Roger turned left onto a dirt road that ran straight up the mountain. It was darker here, with cedars and pines closing in on both sides. Unfortunately, the road itself was sprinkled with potholes, and some of those were already covered with snow. Between the potholes and the steep ascent, Zane began to wonder if the van would make it. Much to his relief, the Land Rover came to a halt about a half mile up the slope. The climb was over. The road ended in a clearing, so Roger used the space to turn around and face the Land Rover downhill. Zane did likewise.
As everyone exited, a stiff breeze howled down the slope, bringing with it a cloud of snow. The three in the Land Rover had already hopped out and were headed their way. Despite her diminutive size, Camilla seemed nimble and athletic. During their conversation the night before, Roger had told them his wife had been a gymnast years ago. Zane believed it.
Kimberly wore dark jeans and a lightweight jacket. Despite her attempt to conceal it, Zane noted the familiar bulge of a semi-automatic pistol in her pocket. The presence of the weapon confirmed what he’d thought before—the athletic twenty-something was also a bodyguard for the Australian collector and his wife.
“I apologize for the foul weather,” Roger said. “The few weeks before spring are often a crap shoot in northern Israel.”
“I think we’ll live,” Zane said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he brings his coat.” Pratt gave him a wink.
As everyone checked their things, Zane glanced back down the road. Ever since leaving Jerusalem, he’d felt as though they were being watched. On several occasions, he’d seen the same car pass them along the highway. It might have been coincidence, but it was also an old espionage trick to vary your position when tailing another party. Interestingly, the feeling they were being followed was still with him here on the mountain. Someone was out there. He could feel it. What made it more of a concern was their remote location and the darkness of the storm. There would be no moon to illuminate anyone coming through the trees.
“I’ll get the ladder,” Kimberly said to Roger as she turned back toward the Land Rover.
Pratt followed. “I’ll give her a hand.”
Zane smiled to himself. I’ll bet you will, big guy.
The two untied the ladder and carefully lifted it off the truck. Zane was surprised at the length. Roger had told them the tunnel entrance was at the bottom of a pit, but he’d assumed it was one they could simply lower themselves into.
Roger clicked on a flashlight and directed the beam toward the trees. “Shall we go?”
As everyone set out, Carmen drew alongside Zane. “What’s wrong?”
“Is it that obvious?”
She nodded. “I’ve worked with you long enough to know when your radar is on.”
“My radar is always on.”
“This is different. I know you, Zane.”
When they arrived at the edge of the clearing, Lawson led them to a trail that wound up through the forest.<
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Zane and Carmen walked slowly, allowing the others to get ahead. “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?”
“When?”
“All day.”
“No, why?”
“Just a feeling.”
Carmen nodded. “Anything specific trigger those feelings?”
“Just a few things on the road—the kind of things that could easily have a simple explanation. Part of it is just a feeling.” He nodded at the trees. “Even here, I feel like there are eyes out there.”
“I think you need to trust your gut, and now that you’ve told me, I’ll be on the lookout as well.” She put one hand in her coat and drew out her matte black Beretta P226. After checking the magazine, she tucked it away again.
Soon, the path turned sharply upward through a grove of cedars. The rock-strewn ground was lightly covered with snow, making the walk slippery and a bit treacherous. Fortunately, the climb wasn’t long, and a few minutes later, they emerged on a plateau.
“Here we are.” Roger pointed his flashlight ahead.
Dark shapes rose up around them as they moved forward. Amanda let out a little gasp of delight. The beams illuminated an acre of scattered ruins. There weren’t many structures—a dozen or so crumbled columns and walls—but it was apparently enough to get an archaeologist excited.
“We believe this site dates back to the first or second century BCE,” Roger said.
Amanda approached one of the columns. “The architecture looks Greco-Roman.”
“Camilla and I believe it was a temple built to worship Zeus or one of the other Greek gods. The only things that confused us were the tunnels. Now, we may have our answer.”
As the group entered the ruins, Carmen looked at Roger. “Didn’t you explore the tunnels yourself?”
“We have been in them numerous times. Unfortunately, they end about a hundred yards in. The archaeologists who worked this site assured us the tunnels were simply rooms used to store the temple’s implements, but we always suspected there was a greater purpose.”
