Dressed in somebody else’s clothes, Bohannon felt like a disembodied voice-over providing the commentary for a documentary, for a story that wasn’t even his.
“We didn’t know what to do . . .”
“So we prayed,” Joe said suddenly, then looked sheepishly at his brother-in-law.
“Yeah, so we prayed,” said Tom, running his hand through his hair. “And I got this sense that we needed to climb up. I could see, in my mind, a shaft, above us, and we needed to get to that shaft. Then there was a hole in the wall of the shaft. I don’t know, it was as if I had a road map in my mind. Anyway, this is what we saw when we sent the camera through the hole.”
Bohannon pushed the Play button on the recorder. All five of them were sitting on the edges of their seats, Krupp and his wife holding hands. Bohannon held his breath as the picture brightened. His chest constricted with sudden fear. Was it really there?
“Oh!” Maria Krupp’s hand was covering her mouth, her eyes wide and staring, transfixed to the image pulsating on their plasma. Bohannon turned from Maria’s shock. Krupp had risen from his chair, hands on his hips, concentrating on every line and shape in the pictures. He had the presence of a predator, the pointed focused concentration of an eagle preparing to pierce its victim. Krupp kept leaning in from his waist, closer and closer each moment, until it appeared he was going to launch himself through the screen.
“How do I know,” Krupp started, pointing to the television. He turned to Bohannon, the elegance of his casual clothes trumped by the wild uncertainty on his face. “How do I know . . .”
“That it’s real?” Bohannon finished. “Watch, listen.”
They watched the second series of video, the one with the GPS coordinates and time recorded by the camera, the one with Sam Reynolds verifying date and time, the one that forced Krupp into an unusual position, sitting cross-legged on the floor, transfixed by this most unorthodox of shows.
The image on the screen faded from an underground Temple to gray fuzz, a rude intruder into the somber silence of Krupp’s study. No one was interested in the Black Forest oak that lined the walls, or with the sealed, softly lit, glass-encased resting place of the Guttenberg Bible. All eyes remained on the empty screen as if they were expecting something magical to materialize.
Krupp broke the spell, turning while still sitting on the floor. “I’m sorry, Tom.”
He got up and stepped over to his wife, held her hands, got down on one knee, and whispered in her ear, leaving Bohannon to wonder what Krupp was apologizing for. When Maria got up and, without a word, left the room, Bohannon had more to wonder about. He didn’t have long to wait.
“I believed everything you told me,” said Krupp, pulling his chair closer to theirs, “but I didn’t believe that you actually found a hidden temple. I kept thinking”—he clasped his hands behind his head and stretched his neck—“that you found something, but once I got you back here to reality and out of that insane situation under the Temple Mount, we would discover that it was perhaps some other, ancient, forgotten building, or some strange illusion. Anything. But the Temple of God? No, that would be impossible.”
His eyes closed, Krupp continued to stretch his neck, first to one side, then the other. “No, I didn’t believe you found the Temple. I’m sorry, Tom. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
Bohannon put his hand on Krupp’s right arm. “That’s okay, Alex. I was there, and I don’t believe it, either.”
Hidden away in the luxurious family estate of Alexander Krupp, located deep in the Ruhr Valley in southern Germany, near the medieval town of Fussen, Bohannon felt safe for the first time in months. It was a well-protected enclave with a sophisticated level of security, befitting a billionaire industrialist, putting them all at ease. So it was with a growing sense of dread that Bohannon registered the fear in his friend’s eyes.
“Alex, what’s wrong? Why did you ask Maria to leave?” said Bohannon.
“I didn’t ask her to leave,” said Krupp, rising again from his chair and crossing to the wall of windows that separated them from the outdoors. “I asked her to contact our security chief. We’re going to need more men.”
48
The next morning, Rodriguez and Johnson were out on the terrace, consuming vast amounts of delicious wurst and fried eggs, washing it down with vast amounts of freshly brewed Bavarian coffee, celebrating their deliverance from granola bars and trail mix. But Krupp steered Bohannon to his private study, overwhelmed with what he had seen the night before, and alarmed at its meaning.
“Here, Tom . . . please, have a seat.” Krupp had lived here all his life and was quite comfortable in his home. It was only others who would gasp, gape, and fawn over tapestries from the ninth century; ancestral portraits by Holbein, Rembrandt, and Sir Thomas Lawrence; and a fifteen-thousand-volume library. To Krupp, it was a place of quiet retreat.
Now, with Bohannon sitting beside him, Krupp had a difficult time not flashing back to his years at Penn State, years of freedom, adventure, academic exploration, and a camaraderie that Krupp experienced neither before nor after his undergraduate days. Initially, the transition from feudal lord to foreign geek had been embarrassing, disheartening, and painful. Then Bohannon came along, threw a mantle of protection around Krupp’s carrottop, and escorted him into the best time of his life. Through their years in University Park, Bohannon was the only true friend Krupp encountered. Bohannon wasn’t interested in his money, his power, or his family. They liked each other from the first moment, and soon became nearly inseparable. In this moment, Krupp realized how much he missed Bohannon, how much he missed their youth, and just how much he truly loved his friend.
“Tom,” he said, resting his hand on Bohannon’s arm, “what you men discovered under the Temple Mount is incredible, absolutely astonishing. I’ve seen it, and I am still having difficulty believing that it is true. But,” said Krupp, “this discovery is also incredibly dangerous, not just for you and the others, but for the rest of the world. Do you know what might happen when this discovery is revealed?”
“We’ve played out many different scenarios over the past few months, but”—Bohannon scratched the back of his head—“I don’t think we really know what to expect. All of us, including Sammy Rizzo and Winthrop Larsen, were simply driven to find out if the message of the scroll was true. If the Temple was there, we believed it would change the past, the present, and the future. How, or how much, we didn’t have a clue. Except, we figured it would be significant.”
“Significant? Classic understatement. Yes, it will be significant.” Krupp arose from the tufted leather armchair and crossed to a long, dark wooden table with huge legs, each one ending in an enormous lion’s paw. It was the table that King Leopold of Austria used to play host to Richard the Lion-heart, upon his return from the Crusades.
“Tom, discovery of the Third Temple could propel all of us into a worldwide conflict, possibly a global nuclear war. I’m serious,” Krupp said, seeing the look of skepticism in his friend’s eyes. “This discovery changes everything.”
Krupp came back to his chair and looked Bohannon straight in the eye.
“Tom, did you know that there are Israeli groups who have been preparing for generations for the creation of the Third Temple, and that religious Jews are already prepared to hold ritual sacrifice in the Temple as soon as it is restored? We do so much of our business in the Middle East, for both sides, that we have come to know any group that could be a destabilizing threat to our commerce.
“There is a group called the Temple Institute who have already manufactured all of the implements and created all of the clothing that would be necessary for the Jewish priesthood to hold ritual sacrifice, including the bronze altar, the great basin, even the high priest’s breastplate. While the institute believes the Temple will emerge in God’s time and Jews should not force the issue, they have completed all of the implements needed for an immediate activation of Temple rights.
“There is another group
, Atteret Cohanim Yeshiva, that is located in the Old City, close to the northwest corner of the Temple Mount. This is a school that identifies Jewish men who qualify for the priesthood and then trains them to carry out duties according to the Scriptures and the Talmud. Many of the Atteret Cohanim are quite radical, and some believe that Jerusalem should be free of all non-Jews. One of their rabbis is the brother of Meir Kahane, the assassinated radical whose organization, “Kahane Chai,” is classified by Shin Bet as an illegal terrorist organization.
“Then, you’ve got the Temple Mount Faithful, a loosely affiliated group of Jews and Christians who march on Jerusalem several times a year and attempt to bring their so-called ‘Cornerstone’ of the Third Temple with them. Of course, the police refuse them entry, but the Faithful believe we cannot wait for the Messiah and must immediately build the Third Temple. Worst of all is the Jewish Underground, an illegal group that may have disbanded, or may simply be inactive, who tried in the past to blow up Muslim structures on the Temple Mount. Many of their members were arrested and imprisoned, but their vow is to rebuild the Temple and destroy the Muslim presence on the Mount.
“And those,” said Krupp, pointing emphatically at his listener, “are only the groups we know about. There are likely others, splinter groups or hidden cells who hold views just as radical and just as radically opposed to each other. You know of the Northern Islamic Front, which wants to obliterate any evidence that the Jewish Temple ever existed atop the Temple Mount.
“Tom, Jerusalem is the most hate-filled, six-square miles on earth. A false rumor sparks ferocious riots. What do you think revelation of an existing Third Temple would do?”
Bohannon slumped. “So, this is a disaster? All we’ve done is to discover a disaster?”
Krupp smiled. He wanted his friend to understand the full measure, not only of his discovery, but also its implications. But now, he needed to give him another picture of the future, a picture that would give Krupp an opportunity to repay an old debt. Here was a reality he never expected to see, a chance, at last, for his family to wash away the guilt they still felt for the war crimes committed by his grandfather, who was convicted of using slave labor and terrible brutality in his factories while supporting the Third Reich in World War II.
Krupp swung his chair around so he could face Bohannon directly.
“Tom, yes, this discovery could have grave consequences. It could blow up the world. But”—and the smile filled his face again—“I have a different plan. Tom, I think your discovery could bring about ultimate, world peace. Let’s go join your friends. I have a proposition to make.”
“The lightning rod for war between Israelis and Arabs has always been the fate of the Temple Mount and Jerusalem,” Krupp said with an earnestness that soon had each of them transfixed. “Each side has demanded the same thing because each side needed the same thing to fulfill the exercise of its religion—control of the Temple Mount. Now, with this secret, but existing, Temple, you have created a bargaining chip that just may bring about peace in the Middle East.”
The three Americans sat looking at Krupp with furrowed brows.
“I know, I know. On the surface, the existence of the Third Temple seems to guarantee an explosion in the ongoing conflict between Arab and Israeli,” said Krupp. “But don’t let yourselves get caught up in stereotypes.
“If the Jewish Temple was already established, and it did not threaten the Dome of the Rock or the Al-Aqsa Mosque and—a big and, I may add—if the Israelis could convince the Muslims that they would, jointly, ensure the safety of the entire Mount and the freedom of all to worship in their appointed shrines, then each side would be presented with a way out of the current, endless fighting and death. Or at least, a first step that Israelis and Muslims could take together.
“Muslims could worship on the top of the Mount; Jews could worship under the Mount; and Jerusalem could be opened, once more, as an international city where Christian, Jew, and Arab could coexist.”
Krupp got up from his chair and walked over to a small table deep in the shade of the terrace. He poured himself some tea, over ice, and added a slice of lemon.
“You may not be aware of this,” he said, returning to his cushioned chair, “but a majority of the Israelis could care less about the Temple, whether it exists or doesn’t exist. But they do care about peace, about an end to this endless season of fear, bloodshed, and hate.
“Israelis are essentially divided into three basic positions, and about ten million smaller ones,” Krupp explained. “The religious, the nominal, and the secular Jew.
“Religious Jews—whether orthodox, ultraorthodox, national religious, or Sephardic orthodox—are a minority in the entire Jewish population of Israel, yet a slim but growing majority in Jerusalem. The basic ideology of the religious Jews is that the culmination of the Zionist dream is a Torah-abiding nation of Jews, a people who are as religious as they are. Religious Jews believe that one day there will again be a temple in Jerusalem, but this will come about at the time of the Messiah. Truthfully, rabbinic Judaism is not wholly prepared to face the idea of a renewed ritual sacrifice, and the Temple is, at present, only a sentimental hope for the future. But if the Temple actually existed, it would be enthusiastically accepted and embraced by the religious Jews.
“Now,” said Krupp, warming to his explanation, “if only nonreligious citizens were counted, nominal Jews would make up slightly less than half of Israel’s total population. Nominal Jews do not oppose the idea of a temple, on the grounds that it probably shouldn’t be opposed by Jews, but neither do they hope for one. The Temple is considered a historical thing that will probably never be rebuilt, but whose restoration should be prayed for during Passover and the High Holy Days . . . if one ever decides to go to a synagogue. If the Temple were to be rebuilt, it would simply introduce yet another difficult burden into their lives.”
With a pinched, thoughtful look on his face, Krupp reached for a small portion of wurst on the tray between them, dipped it in mustard, and chewed on it absently for a moment. In the shade, there was still a nip of chill to the air, and he wished he had thought to throw a sweater over his shoulders. But that was really the least of his concerns.
“Now, the secular Jews, the secular Jews are a problem.” He looked at his now-yellow fingers and reached for a napkin. “Secular Jews are the majority in Israel. And for them, the idea of a temple is simply a no-go. If a temple were to be rebuilt, this group would actively oppose it and possibly even call for a separate state. Secular Jews would consider animal sacrifices a strange, ancient form of religious barbarism and would argue vociferously that sacrifice can hardly be tolerated in a modern and progressive society. They would quite likely march on the Knesset and demand legislation preventing religious coercion while, at the same time—and, yes, this is a bit schizophrenic—demanding their right for open access to the Temple and Western Wall for cultural and historical reasons. We could reasonably expect large groups of vegetarians and animal rights activists demanding protection for sheep and other possible ritual victims.”
“Man, I thought Americans were nuts,” said Rodriguez, stretching himself and rising to a seated position on the lounge chair.
“True,” said Krupp pensively, appearing to agree with Rodriguez’s assessment. “But the animal activists will not be the greatest threat to gaining agreement between the Jews and the Arabs. In the middle of any turmoil caused by the secular Jews, the question of a high priest will come up. The Atteret Cohanim Yeshiva in the Old City will undoubtedly claim exclusive rights to choose the high priest for the Temple, Maimonides’ rules for the priesthood will reemerge, and a million rabbis will probably spout two million opinions about what should be done with the Temple, who should do it, and when it should happen.
“In short,” Krupp said wistfully, “uncovering a temple will probably result in a period of chaos among the Israelis, not to mention the possibility of being on the brink of a world war with the Muslim world. So presenting the
possibility for a peace treaty might not only be a welcome diversion, but could also settle on fertile soil.”
Krupp shifted on his chair, leaned forward, and settled his elbows on his knees.
“I know, personally, all of the major players in the Middle East. And they, personally, are all indebted to me. Our firm has bailed out each and every one of them at one time or another. I’ve bailed them out myself. If anybody can get these hardheaded, prideful, determined leaders to even consider sitting down and talking about peace, I believe I have the influence to see that accomplished. All of them need Krupp Industries; none of them can afford to be on our bad side. So they will listen. Whether they commit or not, well, that is in God’s hands. But they will listen.
“My question,” he said, searching each of their faces, “is whether you will give me permission to make those calls.”
He paused for a moment. Krupp knew that even he didn’t understand all the possible ramifications of this discovery.
“Once I make these calls, the genie is out of the lamp. There will be no going back. This discovery of yours will take on a life of its own. None of us,” Krupp said emphatically, “can predict where that life will lead. It may lead to peace. It may lead to a nuclear conflict that would annihilate the nations of the Middle East. It may lead to a consequence that we have not even considered. As you’ve said, there is already more than one group that has attempted to stop you. So we will be at risk, each of us and millions of other innocents in and around Israel.”
Krupp could feel the knot in his stomach tightening. “So the question is, do we really want to do this? Do we have any idea what we are getting ourselves into? Are we okay with the possible consequences?” he asked staring each man in the eyes.
Johnson turned in his chair to the right of Krupp and looked at Bohannon for a long moment. Krupp watched as Johnson then turned to Rodriguez, caught his gaze, and held it silently. Then, he turned back to Krupp. “Herr Krupp, we left one of our friends in a coffin back in the United States because he believed this quest was worth the risk. Another, Sammy Rizzo, was severely wounded a few nights ago in an ambush aimed to take our lives. We still don’t know what happened to Sammy and Kallie Nolan. Kallie may be forced to leave her home, her job, and her dreams because she helped us. Frankly, I don’t believe it will be possible for the existence of a temple to be kept secret. But even if it was, what other choice do we have at this point except to make public our findings? Too great a price has been paid to find the Temple, to keep it a secret now. Besides, what other chance is there for peace in the Middle East? The Israeli-Arab confrontation will inevitably explode, and when it does, it will take millions of lives with it. At least now, with the Temple, there is a chance for peace. A chance that everything we know about life in the Levant could change in an instant, hopefully for the better.” Johnson again swept his gaze across the faces of his friends. In all of them, Krupp saw both undeniable grief and incredible hope. His heart stalled, mourned, and hoped with them.
The Sacred Cipher Page 37
