‘What’s the name of the place?’
Gelu shook his head. ‘Monk’s temple. That’s all I know. If you like, we can guide. Keep you safe during journey. We know way.’
Lourds knew from personal experience that the Sherpas didn’t make much from their guide work. He also knew the group would be safer in the Sherpas’ hands this far up in the mountains.
‘If you have the time, Gelu, I would like that.’ Lourds would pay them himself.
Gelu nodded and smiled. ‘Sure, sure. Make time. Keep you safe. Maybe take more food to monks?’
‘We’re going to resupply only a little farther on. We can get food for them then.’
Gelu clapped Lourds on the shoulder. ‘The gods will surely favor you.’
9
Fabios Restaurant
Innere Stadt (Inner City)
Vienna, Austria
July 26, 2011
Colonel Davari disliked the restaurant as soon as he laid eyes on it. From a tactical point of view, it was too open. Only glass walls separated diners from passersby walking along Wien Street. A coolheaded sniper could take out nearly half a dozen people before they knew they were being gunned down.
He also disliked the restaurant because it was so ostentatious. The black interior, the elegantly clothed servers, and the expensive ambiance all screamed decadent Western civilization.
Today he dressed the part of a European, in a dark suit without the keffiyeh, his hair and beard freshly cut at the hotel barber’s, and swathed in cologne.
A maître d’ met him at the door. ‘May I help you, sir?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Davari spoke German with an accent, as well as Romanian, and a handful of other languages. ‘I am looking for Herr Von Volker. I am to be his guest.’
The young maître d’ checked an electronic list at his podium. ‘Yes, sir, Herr Von Volker is dining with us tonight, and is already here. If you’ll follow me, please.’
Davari followed the maître d’ across the floor, ending up where he least wanted to be: at one of the tables in front of one of those windows.
‘Herr Von Volker, your guest has arrived.’
The Austrian held a mobile to his face and listened, turning his head just enough to make eye contact with Davari. Von Volker was a big man with sandy blond hair going gray at the temples. His eyes were light blue and moved constantly.
Feeling even more irritated at the man for so casually dismissing him, Davari sat and waited. A server arrived to take his drink order: a water, and he had to select from a dozen different kinds. By the time the glass showed up at the table with a lemon wedge stuck to the rim, Von Volker was pocketing the mobile.
‘I do apologize, Colonel.’ Von Volker sipped his glass of champagne. ‘Sometimes business waits for no man.’
‘I understand. I appreciate your seeing me on such short notice.’ With effort, Davari thought he managed to sound sincere.
‘It’s my pleasure. The food here is excellent. If you’d like, I’d be happy to order for you.’
‘If you insist.’ Davari wasn’t there for the meal, but a soldier learned to eat whatever he could whenever possible.
The server returned, and Von Volker spoke quickly in German before turning back to his guest.
‘I understand there was a problem during your last stop.’ Von Volker’s clear blue eyes held Davari’s.
‘Evidently our security has not been as tight as we had wished.’
‘I’ll bet that made the old man angry.’
Rage coursed through Davari, and he barely restrained himself. The Ayatollah wasn’t a figure to be mocked. ‘When you speak of that man, speak with respect.’
Von Volker shrugged. ‘It’s just a figure of speech. I intended no harm.’
Davari didn’t believe the Austrian. Von Volker thought he was clever and untouchable, but he was no fool. While he’d walked to the table, the Quds colonel had identified five bodyguards sitting at different tables around them, and three more were questionable.
But it was Von Volker’s ego that would get him into trouble. He sat in front of the window, requiring only one skilled sniper to assassinate him, in spite of his protection.
A small, covered plate arrived at the table. The server removed the lid to reveal hot sausages, the steam from them floating into the air.
Von Volker pointed to the plate with his fork. ‘I know you can’t eat them because of your faith, but I do love them.’
‘Please. Enjoy yourself.’ The meal just underscored the separation between them.
The Austrian pierced a sausage and put it on his plate, cutting it into bite-sized pieces. He showed no hesitation about eating in front of a stranger. Of course, as one of the leaders of the Austrian People’s Party, Von Volker probably ate with strangers more often than he ate at home. In addition to the day-to-day business of politics, there were also the necessary meetings with ‘invisible’ constituents.
And then there was the illegal business Von Volker conducted. Companies hidden within companies running hired mercenaries that supplied the Islamic Republic of Iran with nuclear material and weapons of late. Publicly, Von Volker chastised the Ayatollah’s cabinet for their repressive regime, while at the same time lobbying for Iran to have access to nuclear technology for power and peaceful pursuits.
No one in the Western world believed Iran would stop there. Davari knew they wouldn’t. He’d already seen many of the plans.
The server returned and placed a green salad in front of the colonel. He made no move to touch it.
‘Please. Eat.’ Von Volker pointed at the salad with his fork.
‘I ate before my arrival.’ Davari suspected the man might have had something placed on the salad that would go against the Islamic faith. It was childish, but according to his files, the man was not above that. ‘Thank you.’
With a shrug, Von Volker returned to his meal. ‘As you wish. We are not enemies, you know.’ He waved his fork to indicate both of them. ‘We – you and I – hate the Jews. Our people, though some of mine are misguided and forgetful these days, hate the Jews. We share this, and this common enemy makes us friends.’
Davari didn’t share that point of view, but he knew the Ayatollah trusted the anti-Semitic feeling in Austria. There were many problems in the Middle East, and not everyone favored Israel or held the Jews blameless in the conflict. The Ayatollah pumped money into the People’s Party, and to Von Volker in particular. In return, the Austrian and his partners acquired fissionable nuclear materials and technology to give to Iran.
The server returned, carrying a large plate filled with steak, shrimp, and sautéed vegetables. He placed it before Von Volker with a flourish, then refilled his wine glass. Taking a piece of silverware in each hand, the Austrian surveyed his gastronomical battlefield with the practiced eye of an invading general.
‘Your master told me there was something you required my help with, Colonel. I suppose this has something to do with the fiasco in the Gaza.’
Davari throttled his anger and kept his voice calm. ‘Yes.’
‘As I understand it, your friend on the ground there was looking for someone.’
‘A university professor named Lev Strauss.’ Davari took a snapshot of Strauss from his pocket and slid it facedown across the tabletop.
Von Volker lifted the picture and took a quick glance. Then he left the picture lying facedown. ‘He isn’t known to me.’
‘There is no reason he should be. The professor has had an interesting history.’ Davari recited Strauss’s background from memory. ‘He was recruited by the Mossad while he was at Harvard in the United States. He continued working missions for them while he was at Oxford, then a plane he was on was booby-trapped over thirteen years ago. It blew up and went down in the Dead Sea region. Strauss lost his left leg below the knee in the crash.’
‘No more missions.’
‘He remains on active duty, but these days he spends his time in dusty libraries as a true scholar.’
‘Yes.’
‘What?’
‘At this point, that information is restricted. On a need-to-know basis.’ Davari knew that the Westerners liked their little spy games. The truth was that the Ayatollah did not want anyone told the nature of the prize they sought.
The Austrian sliced off a chunk of bloody meat. ‘I would be better able to help if I knew what was going on.’ He popped the piece into his mouth.
‘Right now, we need Strauss found. That is all you need to concern yourself with at the moment.’
‘He’s not in the Gaza anymore?’
‘No.’
‘Where did he run?’
‘According to the two guards my friend spoke with, the professor has returned to Jerusalem.’
‘You have people there.’
‘We had people.’ Davari had read the reports on the executions of those Quds agents only hours ago. ‘They tried to capture the professor.’
‘And got themselves killed?’
‘Yes.’
Von Volker smiled. ‘So the prey has already been spooked in the Gaza and in his homeland.’
‘He is still there.’
‘Sitting quietly in some sequestered hideaway while the Mossad watch over him, waiting for the rats to come to the cheese?’ Von Volker shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
Davari remained silent.
‘You’re not painting a very appetizing picture, my friend.’
The colonel had run out of patience. ‘I’m not painting anything. I’m offering you a job to perform, one my master believes you are in a position to accomplish. If you don’t want to risk it, simply say so, and I will go to the next man on my list.’
Von Volker chuckled. He pointed his fork at Davari. ‘You’re the next man on your list, aren’t you?’
Davari glared at the man, but stayed silent.
‘Yes, you are. You can’t fool me.’ The Austrian blotted his lips on his napkin. ‘Well, let me tell you, my friend, you’re not good enough to get into Jerusalem and get back out again. All you’ll end up doing is getting yourself killed. Then your master is going to have to go to the next man on his list. Work with me, and we can both get what we want.’
Davari refrained from commenting with a supreme effort. What the Austrian said was true, and it angered him that the man knew.
‘I can get to Lev Strauss.’ Von Volker returned his attentions to his plate.
‘Why are you so sure?’
‘Because, just as you have a secret, so do I.’ Von Volker smiled confidently. ‘I will hand the professor over to you in a matter of days. And then we will talk about my bonus.’
10
Scholar’s Rock Temple
Himalaya Mountains
People’s Republic of China
July 26, 2011
‘Look! There it is!’ Gloria Chen walked slightly behind Lourds as he trudged through the snow, letting him do most of the work breaking through the frozen crust. The excitement in her voice drew his attention at once.
He’d been woolgathering, as he usually did when faced with physical drudgery and uninspiring surroundings, and a long walk up a mountain with more mountains around combined both those things.
The previous night, Gelu had persuaded them to rest and recuperate. The Sherpa guide had a good eye for people, and he’d told Lourds that several of the climbers, including Professor Hu, were all but worn-out. Gelu had promised they would comfortably reach their goal by the next evening, even after sleeping in.
Despite his anticipation and the urging of the BBC crew to keep moving, Lourds had agreed. They’d pitched camp there in the lee of the rocks, and the Sherpas had prepared the evening meal over a low fire. It wasn’t as relaxing as a ski resort, but it had been surprisingly comforting to be cared for. Lourds had slept like a baby in his tent.
The stone building sheltered under an overhang of rock shelf, and Lourds wasn’t surprised that no one had really known about the temple. At first he didn’t know what had caused Gloria to become so enthusiastic, then a gust of wind blew a cloud of snow over the rock shelf. The setting sun caught the flying ice particles, and their prismatic qualities cast a field of rainbows over the temple.
‘Rory?’ Lourds raised his voice above the wind screaming through the canyon.
‘Yeah, mate?’
‘Tell me you’re getting this with the camera.’
‘You better believe it. If this works out, I think we’re looking at our opening.’
Lourds’s heart sped up as he watched the beautiful swirl with a huge grin.
‘Wouldn’t it be shorter to walk across the valley?’ Lourds pointed his climbing staff at the circular depression between where they’d come up and the temple.
‘Walk across not good.’ Gelu shook his shaggy head. ‘Much danger. Much frozen that.’ He walked toward the depression, stood at the edge, and kicked away snowdrifts to reveal ice. He waved at the valley. ‘All ice. Not good.’
‘Come on, mate.’ Rory pointed across the long walk they had around the bowl. ‘If we walk across, it’s a lot shorter. Any ice up here is going to stay frozen.’
Gelu shook his head again. ‘Much frozen. Not all frozen. Holes there. Deep. Sometimes fall through and no come back.’
‘Ice is some of the most treacherous terrain up in these mountains.’ Lourds adjusted his protective goggles. ‘The snow blows, maybe melts a little on warmer days from the direct sunlight, and forms a thin crust over cracks and holes.’
‘Yes.’ Gelu nodded. ‘Much deadly, you see.’
‘With all the blowing snow shifting around, you might not see a crevasse until you went through it. You could fall a few hundred feet, and maybe your body would be found in a few hundred years.’ Lourds turned to the reporter. ‘Still feel like walking across now?’
Even with the cold turning Rory’s face pale, his features turned even whiter. ‘Nope. I can walk around just fine.’
Gelu assumed the lead once more, and they resumed their march.
‘You said the monks don’t get many visitors.’ Lourds matched his stride to the Sherpa’s.
‘No. No many. Only men seeking to know what monks know come here.’
‘What do the monks know?’
‘I not know. I know Sherpa ways. I know trade. I know guide.’ Gelu smiled. ‘I know how to feed myself, not need others to feed me.’
‘Have you ever gone to the monks to learn anything?’
‘Father taught me all I need to know. Work hard. Live careful. Raise strong sons and obedient daughters. What more is there?’
‘I suppose.’ As he walked, though, Lourds couldn’t help watching the gusting rainbows and wondering what lay inside the temple.
Professor Hu pulled at Lourds’s elbow. ‘You realize, of course, Thomas, that whatever made that temple special thousands of years ago could be long gone.’
‘I do.’
‘If it is, at least the BBC will have a lot of pretty footage of mountains and rainbows.’
‘I reconcile myself with one thought.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Even if a package is empty, many times you can learn a lot about what was there from the package itself.’
At Professor Hu’s side, Gloria Chen shot Lourds an exasperated glance. ‘Great thinking, but what if someone found a Big Mac wrapper? Do you really think that person could reconstruct how those two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun really went together?’ She shook her head. ‘I think we’d be better off if we found an artifact or two. So excuse me if I hope we find more than a wrapper up here.’
‘Gloria!’ Professor Hu studied her with a furrowed brow.
‘I’m sorry, Professor Hu. I think I’m just tired.’ Gloria didn’t look apologetic. She turned and headed back into the climbing party, Lourds watching her go with a puzzled expression on his face.
&n
bsp; ‘Good evening.’ Dressed in thick winter clothing, the young monk stood in the stone doorway and looked over the expedition with a beatific smile. ‘This is the Temple of the Scholar’s Rock. I am Ang. I bid you welcome.’
Gelu talked to the young man in Mandarin, explaining that the group was from Peking University and had come out all that way to see the temple.
Ang looked bemused as he turned to Lourds. ‘Usually climbers find us by mistake on their way up the mountain. Or we sometimes discover them when they are lost or while we are walking. You are the first to come looking for the temple in a long time.’
‘I hope our arrival and our curiosity won’t be an imposition. We’ve brought food, enough to leave with you and your brothers when we leave, and we have our own tents.’
Ang smiled. ‘Food is always welcome in the temple, and I’m certain we can find space for all of you. The temple is much bigger on the inside than it looks at first glance.’ He moved to one side of the door and waved them in. ‘Please. Enter. Our home is your home for as long as you wish.’
‘When he said it was bigger on the inside than it looked, I thought he meant it was only a little bigger.’ Rory stared in openmouthed wonder at the cavernous vault around them.
Lourds kept his own jaw in place with effort. The Scholar’s Rock Temple was huge and ran back deep into the mountain. His explorer’s instincts flared, and his hopes rose.
The walls looked natural in most places. The original builders had taken advantage of the existing cave system. Some of the other rooms contained scars from tools when they had been widened and deepened. Oil lanterns filled the rooms with a golden glow.
‘I am Brother Shamar. Please sit.’ A wizened old man waved at the small rugs adorning the smooth stone floor around him. He wore an orange saffron robe and sat cross-legged with an easy grace. Age had wrinkled his face so much that it looked like a raisin. Still, his dark eyes looked full of life and mischief.
Lourds and Hu introduced themselves. The audience was semiprivate. Rory and the BBC crew filmed from the doorway and used only the natural light coming from the oil lanterns hanging on the wall and the fireplace behind the old monk.
The Temple Mount Code Page 6
