by Chloe Palov
MacFarlane’s smile broadened. ‘No, you did not. Because like most, you have no concept of the power that is inherent in those two words, the prophetic truth that those two words reveal. Most people think of Judgement Day as a fairy tale that can never come to pass.’
‘I take it you think differently?’
‘“And I will plead against him with pestilence and with blood; and I will rain upon him, and upon his bands, and upon the many people that are with him, an overflowing rain, and great hailstones, fire, and brimstone.”’
Listening to the verbal sparring, Edie started to get a very bad feeling in the pit of her painfully cramped stomach.
Apocalypse. Tribulation. Judgement Day.
She’d heard those words before. Many years ago when she’d been made to sit silent while her grandfather nightly read aloud from the dog-eared family Bible.
End Times prophecies.
The Bible, both Old and New Testaments, was full of them. As a young girl, those stories of disease, famine and global warfare had terrified her.
But what did End Times prophecies have to do with the Ark of the Covenant?
69
‘I know that Bible verse… It’s from the Book of Ezekiel,’ Edie murmured.
Knowing that Edie had been force-fed a biblical diet during her teenage years, Cædmon turned to her. At a glance he could see that she was distressed by MacFarlane’s recitation.
‘I didn’t take you for a woman versed in the prophecies,’ MacFarlane replied dismissively.
Edie shrugged. ‘My grandfather held to the same End Times belief, absolutely certain that Ezekiel’s war, as he called it, loomed on the horizon.’
‘Then you undoubtedly know that the ancient prophecies are a gift from God. A light in the midst of the spiritual malaise that is so prevalent in our day and age. Many centuries ago the prophet Ezekiel clearly spelled out God’s battle plan to save mankind from the forces of evil.’ MacFarlane spoke with a proprietary air. As though imparting a great and wondrous secret.
‘Which merely proves what I’ve thought all along – that biblical prophecy is too often used to justify the hate-filled agendas of warmongers like yourself.’ Edie’s normally pale cheeks were flushed with vivid colour, Cædmon aware that for her this argument had a personal dimension. ‘There are many fundamentalist Christians who believe that contained within the verses of Ezekiel there’s a detailed plan for the invasion of Israel by an alliance of foreign countries,’ she continued, addressing her comments directly to him. ‘It’s what’s known as the Battle of Gog and Magog. Furthermore, they believe that this battle will be fought during the last days.’
The last days.
By that he supposed that Edie referred to the much-ballyhooed apocalypse. The end of life as we know it. As in get down on your knees and kiss the world goodbye.
Was MacFarlane’s obsession with the Ark of the Covenant somehow intertwined with an apocalyptic vision? God help them if it was, history full of men who had proclaimed that the end of the world was at hand. In almost every instance such prophets had left only pain and misery in their wake.
‘I’m curious about this Battle of Gog and Magog.’ If he’d learned anything during his spell with MI5, it was that information was a form of power, sometimes the only power one had over one’s enemies. ‘Where precisely will the conflict take place?’
‘The great battle will be fought in the mountains of Israel,’ MacFarlane replied.
‘I see.’ Cædmon mulled the disclosure, his curiosity piqued. ‘And who will be involved?’
Smiling, his nemesis answered, ‘The prophet Ezekiel writes of an alliance of nations from remote parts of the north known as “the land of Gog”. This alliance will fight under the leadership of the ruler of Gog –’
‘Aka Magog,’ Edie interjected.
‘– and will include the princes of Rosh, Meshech and Tubal.’
Cædmon pondered what, to the uninitiated ear, was so much gibberish. ‘I assume that Rosh refers to the tribe of Ros, an ancient group of people believed to have inhabited the region of modern-day Ukraine and Russia.’ When MacFarlane nodded, he next said, ‘So, presumably this northern alliance will comprise countries formerly part of the Soviet Union.’
‘Many of which, such as Kazakhstan and Tajikistan are Islamic nations,’ Edie pointed out.
Islamic nations fighting a cataclysmic battle within the borders of Israel.
The plot had considerably thickened.
‘According to Ezekiel, Magog’s army will be supported by the nations of Persia, Cush and Put.’ This also from Edie, who was fast proving herself a fount of biblical information.
‘Iran, Sudan and Libya, if my ancient history serves me correctly.’ Cædmon took a moment to mull over what he’d been told thus far. Then, finding a glaring inconsistency in the prophesied scenario, he said, ‘Let’s assume for argument’s sake that the Ezekiel prophecy does foretell of a Russian-led invasion of Israel, what possible reason would Russia have for initiating such a war?’
MacFarlane stared at him as though he’d asked a simpleton’s question. ‘Economic and political instability are reason enough, don’t you think? Israel is, after all, the Silicon Valley of the Middle East.’
‘And don’t forget the wealth of minerals to be mined around the Dead Sea, as well as the untapped oil reserves within Israel’s borders,’ Edie chipped in, her remarks leaving Cædmon unsure of whether or not she believed the apocalyptic tale. ‘Given that both Russia and Israel have nuclear weapons, the end result would be catastrophic.’
‘I must confess it’s not a totally improbable scenario, the Middle East being so volatile,’ Cædmon admitted in response to Edie’s last remark. ‘Although if that particular conflict ever came about, it would be started by man not God. The world’s thirst for oil is unquenchable and Russia is undoubtedly concerned that the US has secured a foothold in the Arab world. The Iron Curtain may be gone, but the rivalry lingers.’
‘The prophet Ezekiel describes the battle to come in clear, concise terms,’ MacFarlane said with a manic gleam in his eyes. ‘One has only to read the daily newspaper to know that the prophesied Battle of Gog and Magog can come at any time.’
‘I’m curious as to who you think will be the victor if this conflagration were to occur.’
‘Why Israel, of course. And that victory will assure Jews and Christians alike that God is still in their midst, as he was in the days of old, when he dwelt among them during the forty-year trek through the wilderness. With victory, a new temple will be erected in Jerusalem. Once it is constructed, the Ark of the Covenant will be restored to its rightful place.’
The Ark of the Covenant. Finally, they had come full circle.
Cædmon glanced at the trio of men engaged in hauling the treasure out of the hole. Time was not on his and Edie’s side. And it was certainly against them if the excavation turned up anything other than the sought-after prize.
‘Why are you telling me all this? Aren’t you letting the cat out of the biblical bag?’
MacFarlane took a step in his direction, Cædmon surprised to see a look of entreaty on his face.
‘I have a reason for sharing the prophecy with you – I want you to join us in our holy cause. The Lord always has need of good, stalwart men ready to fight his battles.’
70
‘As with Paul on the road to Damascus, you have a chance to redeem yourself. Read the prophecies for yourself and you will see that I speak the truth.’
Astonished that the offer had even been made, Cædmon stood silent for several seconds. That is until cynicism got the better of him.
‘Ah, yes, “the sure word of prophecy”,’ he remarked drolly, quoting another Church father, St Peter.
‘I know you to be a man searching for meaning in his own life and in the world around him.’
‘While that may be true, I’m not a malleable soul ready to latch on to the first bloke who offers a readymade cure for life’s travails.’ H
e held MacFarlane at bay, knowing that if he committed too soon, he would show his hand.
‘Your words imply a deep-seated fear. I can take that fear from you.’ MacFarlane expansively gestured to the three men working industriously. ‘My Warriors of God know no fear.’
‘He’s feeding you a load,’ Edie exclaimed, grabbing Cædmon by the arm as though she feared he might step across the imaginary line that had been drawn between them and their nemesis. ‘I’ve read the Ezekiel prophecies, and do you know what I think? I think Ezekiel was a madman, a doomsday prophet who would have been on lithium and a very short leash had he lived in the twenty-first century. One of his so-called visions tells of how he came upon a pile of dry bones in the desert and breathed life into those same bones, creating a mighty army. Maybe I’m the crazy one here, but that sounds like the kind of delusional prophecy that would be spouted by some homeless guy pushing a shopping cart.’
Eyes narrowing, Stanford MacFarlane glared contemptuously at Edie.
Hoping to smooth the waters, Cædmon cleared his throat. ‘While I won’t go so far as to speculate on Ezekiel’s mental state, I know that many of the Old Testament authors wrote metaphorically, never intending their verses to be interpreted literally by later generations.’
‘This I know above all else,’ MacFarlane countered in an acid tone. ‘Not only will the divine revelation given to Ezekiel come to fruition, but the Battle of Gog and Magog will be fought. Only those who put their trust in the Almighty will escape the coming doom. And those who take up arms against the soldiers of Magog will be doubly blessed. When the battle is fought and won, the Ark of the Covenant will be restored to its rightful place within the new temple. Repent and you will live eternally. Turn your back on the Lord and you will be damned.’
‘But why ask me to join you? It’s been years since I last stepped foot in a church.’
‘We can use a man with your specialized talents.’
Something in the offhand compliment gave Cædmon pause, leaving him with the distinct impression that MacFarlane knew about his time with MI5. His skills would be useful to a man like MacFarlane. Although he had a small army at his disposal, there was a world of difference between a soldier and a trained intelligence officer.
‘Very well. I would be happy to join you. However, there is a condition – you must free Miss –’
‘Don’t do it, Cædmon!’ Edie screeched.
‘– Miller. Needless to say, this is not negotiable,’ he added, hoping to check Stanford MacFarlane. And to check Edie as well. He glanced at her, word-lessly imploring her to keep quiet.
‘The woman knows too much. She can’t be trusted,’ the colonel replied.
‘I trust her implicitly. Is that not enough?’
‘She is a degenerate vessel, unworthy of your consideration. My offer does not include the woman.’ Visibly rigid with the force of his contempt, MacFarlane glared at Edie. Loathing incarnate.
Caedmon reflected that throughout history men such as Stanford MacFarlane had repeatedly and passionately blamed women for the ills of the world. He’d always thought their hate stemmed from a deep-seated fear of woman’s innate wisdom. Knowing that such monsters by their very nature were devoid of mercy, he said, ‘Your offer puts me in mind of a medieval inquisitor attempting to convert a heretic. Regardless of whether or not the heretic repented, it usually ended badly. For the heretic, that is.’
‘I can see that your eyes are jaded. That you aren’t fit to gaze upon God’s glory.’ His contempt mutating into stern-faced rage, MacFarlane turned to his men. ‘Harliss, prepare the tabernacle!’
‘Yes, sir.’ Like a marionette on a string, Harliss unzipped one of the oversized equipment bags.
Unable to look Edie in the eye, mortified that he had failed to save her life, Cædmon was surprised when she leaned her head against his shoulder.
‘When the end comes, at least we’ll be together,’ she whispered.
‘Yes… we will be at that.’
‘Any idea what they’re up to?’ She jutted her chin at the folded stacks of material that Harliss had removed from the zippered bag.
‘A badger skin, a length of blue cloth and a tightly woven veil were traditionally wrapped around the Ark whenever it was in transit. I suspect the three layers created a primitive form of non-conducting insulation. Clearly, MacFarlane intends to play by the book.’
‘That being the good book, huh?’
‘Indeed. Although the scriptures have a way of becoming distorted beyond recognition when spouted by a man like MacFarlane.’
Curiosity overcoming his dread, Cædmon watched as the other two members of the trio finally dragged a large metal box out of the hole. A quick mental calculation proved that the box was large enough to house the Ark of the Covenant. As he’d done at the cloister, Braxton smashed the lock with a mighty swing of his pickaxe.
His movements slow and reverential, Stanford MacFarlane opened the lid.
Although he craned his neck, Cædmon could see nothing more than the dull glimmer of gold. A gold what, he couldn’t say. What he could see, however, was the awestruck expression affixed to the face of each of the four men gathered around the open box. As though they’d just wandered into Aladdin’s cave.
‘“And there was seen in his temple the ark of his testament and there were lightnings, and voices, and thunderings, and an earthquake, and great hail,”’ Stanford MacFarlane loudly intoned.
‘Don’t forget the drizzle,’ Edie muttered under her breath. ‘And the fog,’ she added a moment later when Harliss set off a smoke bomb, completely obscuring the proceedings from their view.
‘The Hebrew priests used to shroud the Ark in a thick blanket of incense to keep it hidden from curious onlookers.’ As he spoke, Cædmon squinted and strained, but the smoke was impenetrable.
A few seconds later Harliss emerged from the smoke. Two sets of plastic handcuffs dangled from his fingers. ‘I’ve got a restraining order for you two.’
‘Will you at least tell us if it is the Ark of the Covenant?’ Cædmon asked.
‘Oh yeah,’ the other man slowly replied, the bedazzled expression returning to his unshaved, raw-boned features. ‘The two angels on top of the gold box were the giveaway.’
Hearing that was like hearing an unexpected boom of thunder, Cædmon swaying slightly on his feet.
They have actually found the Ark of the Covenant.
Knowing it was futile to resist, he stood motionless as Harliss cuffed his hands, his mind unable to comprehend the enormity of the find.
Softly humming a jaunty tune, Harliss ripped a piece of duct tape from a roll. ‘Wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbours,’ he said with a mean-spirited cackle as he slapped the length of tape across Cædmon’s mouth. That done, he bound and gagged Edie in a similar fashion.
‘We got orders to row you two to shore and take you to a remote location. The colonel says it wouldn’t be right to kill you in the same place where we found the Ark.’
71
For the second time that morning the spectre of death hovered at Edie’s shoulder. But this time, unlike those petrified moments when she’d stood shaking beneath Braxton’s pickaxe, she had time to prepare for her death. Harliss and Sanchez had loaded them into the Range Rover and headed east – somewhere towards the sea, Edie beginning to discern the tang of salt in the air.
In the distance she heard the outraged screech of a gull. The faint roar of a jet engine. Familiar sounds. Probably the last sounds she would hear.
At least she’d lived longer than her mother.
She turned and glanced at Cædmon, who, duct tape over his mouth, hands cuffed in front of him, stoically stared at the passing scenery. She wondered if he too had used the time to take stock of his life. He could have saved himself back on the isle. But he hadn’t. Instead, he had tried to gain her freedom. From a madman, no less. Although furious with him for passing up his one and only chance, she thought she might just love the brave, quixotic English
man.
Harliss, again relegated to co-pilot, peered over the headrest. ‘Soon you two will be sleepin’ with the angels. The colonel is fond of sayin’, “The judgements of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold… sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.”’
Oh yeah. A bullet to the back of the head. How sweet is that?
Still leaning over the back of his seat, Harliss reached into his jacket pocket and removed a pack of filterless Camels. ‘I’d offer you one but…’ Chortling, he shook a cigarette free. He then flipped open a silver lighter. Taking a drag, he blew a perfect smoke ring into her face.
Forced to inhale the smoke through her nostrils, Edie gagged. Beside her, Cædmon twitched, his muffled protest sounding as though he were attempting to speak underwater.
Sanchez steered the SUV onto what looked like a farm road, the Range Rover lurching from side to side as they drove slowly down the rutted lane. They’d gone approximately a half mile when Sanchez put on the brakes and cut the engine.
Edie and Cædmon simultaneously turned and looked at one another.
I’m sorry, Cædmon.
Craning from side to side, Harliss gave an approving nod. ‘This looks as good a place as any. Don’t know that anyone’s been down this road in a good long while.’ He turned to his partner. ‘What do ya think?’
‘I think I gotta take a crap,’ Sanchez blurted, releasing his seat belt.
‘Jesus! A body could tell time by your bowel movements.’
‘Shut up and get me the wipes out of the glove compartment.’
A few seconds later, packet in hand, Sanchez was ambling towards a clump of trees. Harliss, another half-smoked Camel sticking out of the corner of his mouth, opened the passenger door and got out of the Range Rover. Slamming the door shut, he stretched then walked round to the front of the vehicle. Leaning against the bonnet, his back to them, he proceeded to finish his cigarette.
