Temple: The Prophecy of the Hidden Treasure (Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries Book 7)

by Bill Thompson

  He had stopped, almost having said too much. His problem after all these years boiled down to one thing. He'd understood al Qaeda once, when he was young, poor and full of lofty goals about freeing the oppressed. But everything had changed in the last few years. Al Qaeda in Syria – AQS – had morphed into a band of ruthless murderers and ISIS – the offshoot of it – was a thousand times more bloodthirsty and dangerous. He also had changed in those years. He had a real life now, along with a reputation and standing in the community. The rebel he once had been now wanted to be a protector, guarding the monuments of bygone civilizations and the treasure of the Israelites – a nation his own people considered infidels.

  "Let me help you safeguard the things in the cavern," Brian had told him. "I have resources and we can get the Antiquities Authority involved. They will send soldiers."

  Abdel had steadfastly refused to consider it and Brian had backed off, saying, "You simply have to let me go back once more. If I may never see it again, I'd like to at least spend some time among the artifacts. Please, Abdel."

  "I doubt it is possible, but I will try because you have promised to help me." They agreed to meet at Abdel's shop the next day.

  Brian spent most of his day in the hotel, catching up on emails and watching the news. He had lunch on the patio and watched US F-35 fighter jets scream overhead, heading northeast. Was this activity in response to provocation or merely a show of force? He searched his phone for news and saw that Syrian tanks and missile launchers had been moved to the border in the Golan Heights. It was a face-to-face standoff all along Israel's borders and Brian figured the US warplanes were demonstrating that America wouldn't tolerate aggression against its ally.

  He wanted to call Nicole, but it was nighttime in Dallas. He'd touch base with her before he left for his appointment with Abdel at six.

  He spent the afternoon doing research. He learned about Cyrus, the king of Persia to whom God was speaking in Isaiah 45:3 when he promised to give him "treasures of darkness and hidden wealth of secret places." His was an interesting story with a fascinating twist. Although Isaiah had called Cyrus by name and prophesied that he would help the Jews escape from Babylonian captivity, Isaiah couldn't have known Cyrus because the king was born one hundred and fifty years after Isaiah's predictions were written.

  Bizarre! Brian thought, but he knew from Sunday school decades ago that the biblical prophets had done a lot of prognosticating that turned out to be one hundred percent accurate.

  Once the Persian king arrived on the scene, his actions were exactly as Isaiah had written. He issued a decree freeing the Israelites and supported the rebuilding of God's house in Jerusalem by providing money from his treasury. He also returned the temple objects, which King Nebuchadnezzar allegedly brought to Babylon.

  Now we're getting somewhere. Brian excitedly read more about the Persian king who actively helped "God's people" – the Israelites – build a temple here in Jerusalem in the sixth century BC. There had undoubtedly been treasure and lots of it, given how many times it was described in the Bible. There had been artifacts from the temple, utensils and even "golden vessels dedicated by King Solomon.

  He searched for something else. He googled ancient sites fifty to a hundred miles north of Jerusalem. He found several and narrowed his search to Canaanite sites with Egyptian influence, and a view inside Beth Shean Archaeological National Park nailed it. A panoramic video of the ancient city, taken from the same hill, showing the same towering Roman columns Brian had seen in person, proved that this was where Abdel had taken him.

  He read about caves and unexcavated ruins throughout the area, and he grew more excited with each word he saw. He caught himself daydreaming about the trove of artifacts he'd barely gotten a glimpse of. Now he absolutely had to see them again. This documentary would be my greatest achievement yet, he thought. The Hidden Treasure of Isaiah. The Lost Treasure of the Temple. The Treasures of the Israelites.

  He forced himself to slow down. I'm already naming the program and I don't even know if I'll ever see the place again.

  The ring of his phone startled him back into reality. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. Had he fallen asleep? He wasn't sure. He glanced at his watch – it was already after five and he was supposed to be in the Old City with Abdel at six. He answered.

  "Hi, sweetie!"

  "Hi, Brian. Please tell me you're sitting at an airport somewhere on your way home."

  "It won't be much longer, I can tell you that. I have a meeting with Abdel in a few minutes. I'm going to get him to take me back to the cave one more time before I leave. I may never get to see it again ..."

  There was a silence that lasted so long Brian thought the connection had been broken.

  "Are you there, Nicole?"

  "I'm here. I’ve been waiting to see if you'll come to your senses. I spoke with Harry, Brian. You can leave if you want to but you turned down a seat on the next plane. I'm going to tell you something I asked Harry to do for me. I asked him to revoke your passport."

  "You did what?" he shouted into the phone, aghast. He only needed a day or two and this could ruin everything!

  "Don't worry, my darling,” she replied sarcastically. “You're safe to continue your crazy mission. He said that things didn't work that way. They'd have to arrest you and treat you like a prisoner and Harry absolutely refused to do it. He said something I still want to believe myself. He said you're an intelligent man and a caring husband. He said you’re not a man who’d carelessly create anguish and worry for someone you love."

  "I won't –"

  She exploded. "But you are! Don't you understand anything? The only person who isn't concerned about your welfare is you. How crazy is that? Why should I care when you don't? Why should Harry care? Because we love you, that's why. I've hung in with you for years and I'm getting tired."

  "You're right and I know it. It's just that I'm already here, halfway around the world, and I want to finish what I started. Two days. That’s all, I promise."

  He waited for a moment, but there was nothing. He looked at the screen and saw that the call was disconnected. She had hung up.

  I'll be home in two days, he promised himself. Just forty-eight hours.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Abdel faced some challenges. He respected Brian as a colleague, he admired his stature as an authority in his field, and he envied the fame and fortune that had come with the man's worldwide television broadcasts. Those documentaries had made Brian's name and face familiar to millions; in his gut, Abdel wanted that same thing for himself.

  His first dilemma was that war was inevitable. As much as Beth Shean and the temple treasures weighed upon his conscience, there was something even more valuable to him. Over two decades he had built a showroom filled with unique, valuable objects that would surely be stolen if the Israelis shut down the Old City. Brian could help him get the pieces to safety, but the quid pro quo was his next dilemma. He couldn't give Brian what he wanted in return unless he somehow broke free from what he once had been.

  Abdel was trapped between the choices of his past and his dreams for the future. I've been in the business far longer than Brian, he justified, allowing himself another cigarette and a daydream as he waited for Brian's arrival. I've dealt with relics equally as impressive as the ones that made him famous. I deserve recognition as much – no, even more than he does! And I hold a key that can make it happen. I know about the cavern and the treasures Isaiah mentioned in the Quran and the Bible. I too can be a man whose face is known to the world through television documentaries. Think of it! Discovering Secret Treasures of the Bible – a two-hour documentary starring Abdel Malouf and Brian Sadler, two noted experts about ancient relics. We would be there together, leading the camera crew down into the cave as millions of would-be adventurers around the world were glued to their televisions. I would be famous – as famous as Brian Sadler! I am already wealthy, but after this I will have much more. I will buy that house in the south of Fr
ance, where I will sit on my veranda and gaze at the peaceful waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

  Brian Sadler is my key. I can make all this happen. All that I must do ...

  All that I must do, he admitted ruefully to himself, is pull off a miracle. All that I must do is eliminate one of the most dangerous and ruthless individuals on the planet.

  He dismissed that negative, impossible thought and went back to the pleasure of daydreaming.

  The first thing that caught Brian's eye – and his nose – when he walked through the narrow front door of Abdel's gallery was the thick cloud of smoke that hung like smog from the ceiling. He saw the Arab rise from a desk in the back and stub out a cigarette. Brian wondered how many it had taken to create that nasty fog.

  "My friend, please join me here," Abdel gushed. "Tea and dates?" He motioned to a chair next to a table with a plate and kettle on it, poured two cups of steaming black tea and asked him how his day had been. Before Brian could reply, Abdel asked him another simple question, then another. Brian noticed the total transformation from the man's reserved demeanor on the road trip yesterday. Now he could hardly stop talking and the words were cascading from his mouth like a waterfall. He wondered if the man might be high on something.

  "What have you been doing today?" Abdel chattered.

  Remembering Harry's warning about al Qaeda, Brian reminded himself to be wary.

  "I caught up on work. How about you? How was your day?"

  "It was good. I spent most of it doing an inventory of the things I want to ship to London. Again, I deeply appreciate your offer."

  Brian replied that he was glad to help. Then he asked again about going to the cave.

  "We can go there again," Abdel replied, his hands trembling so hard that he spilled his tea. He giggled nervously. "I will show you the treasure once more."

  That is surprising news! "When?"

  "Tomorrow morning, same time as before. Mohammed and I will be there at 6 a.m."

  Brian was ecstatic. "Thank you so much! It means a great deal to me and you are very kind."

  "No! No!" Abdel burst out, waving his hands in the air. Something was clearly wrong; he was becoming more agitated by the minute. "I am not kind at all. I need your help, that's all. Please, let us now talk about shipping my objects to your gallery."

  Brian had found the solution for Abdel's problem, but now he was getting worried. To call Abdel uneasy would have been an understatement. Ever since he arrived, something hadn't felt right about all this.

  "What is it, Abdel? What's wrong?"

  "I am fine," Abdel said unconvincingly, making up an excuse on the fly. "I have a meeting with an important client later this week and I am anxious about it. If you can help me, then I will show you the cavern again if you wish. But you must understand that it is dangerous to go there."

  "Because of the threat of war. Yes, I know that, but I'm willing to take a chance."

  His thoughts filled with remorse, Abdel said nothing. The threat of war wasn't what he was talking about at all. Brian couldn't possibly know what the real danger was and Abdel couldn't tell him.

  Brian continued, "I've been on the phone this afternoon with some friends of mine and I've hired a private security firm to handle your artifacts." He explained that Abdel should prepare the goods for shipment. When they were ready, a truck would take the crates to Eilat airport to be loaded on a cargo plane to London. From there the boxes would be stored in one of the high-security locations Bijan Rarities maintained.

  Instead of reacting with exuberance at the news, Abdel hung his head and shook it. "No. No. You are being too good to me. I don't want all that help. I can do it myself."

  What? What is the man thinking? I'm offering exactly the solution he wanted!

  "Okay, Abdel. What's going on here? What I worked out is exactly what you asked for –"

  "There is nothing going on here!" Abdel shouted. "I should never have involved you!" He paused and stammered, "I mean, I should never have asked for so much."

  "Is it because I arranged everything without consulting you first? I thought you would appreciate it. I thought it was the safest way to transport your things to London."

  "Forget about my needs." He sighed. "It is too late for that."

  Brian was alarmed. He had only known Abdel a few days, and his behavior today was very unusual. The man was clearly upset about something.

  "What do you mean it's too late? Are you saying that Israel is about to go to war? What about our trip to the cavern?"

  "I know nothing more about when or if war will come than you, Brian." That was the first time, Brian would reflect later, that Abdel called him by his first name. "And if you insist on going to the cave again, then I will take you there, as I already said. Mohammed and I will be at the hotel at 6 a.m."

  He stood abruptly and ushered Brian to the door, which he locked once Brian was on the sidewalk. He sat in the dark for over an hour, smoking one cigarette after another and wondering how all this would work.

  Brian was completely baffled. After that peculiar meeting, he needed to clear his head. As he had done before on this trip, he walked along the Via Dolorosa – the Way of Suffering – once again humbled that he stood on the very stones that Jesus walked on His way to Calvary. Tonight, he paused to reflect at each station of the cross. Soon he reached the end of the Muslim Quarter, where he would pass into the Christian Quarter and exit via the New Gate.

  As he neared the intersection where the quarter ended, he began to hear shouts. A few people anxiously approached and pushed past him, and at the end of the street there was a throng of people yelling and shaking their fists at Israeli soldiers.

  All the shouting was in Hebrew, but Brian saw the issue. The soldiers were blocking the entrance to the Christian Quarter and refusing to let anyone pass. A man and woman in front of Brian asked one of the soldiers in English, "Why is this way closed?"

  "For your protection," she snapped. "There are new threats against the government. Until they are searched and questioned, no one may pass from one quarter to another or leave the Old City."

  Brian knew what a mess this was going to create. There had to be thousands of people in the Old City right now – tourists, vendors, shop owners, residents, deliverymen and every other imaginable player in the day-to-day economic life of a place like this. For now, everyone inside was a prisoner within the walled city. He thought a moment and resigned himself to the inevitable. He joined a long line to wait until his turn to present his papers to the guards.

  From somewhere close a shot rang out, then another. The crowd around Brian rushed the soldiers in a desperate attempt to run from danger. The guards prepared to defend themselves, but wisely they held their rifles across their breasts instead of pointing them at the mob. Mostly tourists in shorts and T-shirts, they didn't pose a real threat, and within seconds it was clear no one was going to push the issue.

  Whatever the shooting had been about, Brian was sure the security at the exit gates would be far heavier now than before it had happened. He ran back to Abdel's store, knocked several times and was about to give up when the door opened.

  "What do you want? Why are you still here?"

  Brian told him about the lockdown. "I'm going to call the embassy," he explained. "I'm not sure what they can do, but if they can get me out, I'll ask them to take you too."

  Abdel shook his head. "Not me. If the Jews are locking down the Old City, I'm going to stay here and defend my property. I'm fully stocked with provisions – my living quarters are upstairs – so don't worry about me. Come in; you're safe here and you can call the embassy. If they won't help, you may spend the night here." His more cordial demeanor surprised Brian.

  Thirty minutes later an aide knocked on the door to Prime Minister Daniel Shigon's office and informed him that the American embassy was asking permission to remove one of their citizens from the Muslim Quarter through Herod's Gate.

  Shigon had bigger things to deal with than this, but
he'd also instructed the soldiers that no one – absolutely no one – was permitted to leave until he or she was questioned at one of the checkpoints. He was aware of the bottleneck this would create, given the tourists and others who would be angry that they didn't get to afternoon tea or a tavern on time. Arabs would see it as an aggressive move, but none of that mattered to the prime minister. The lockdown was merely a demonstration of who was in charge. Despite the Temple Mount's being under Arab control, it would be the Jews who would decide who entered the Old City, and everyone else could be inconvenienced – or go to hell, for that matter. His country was on the verge of war and he was determined to be steadfast and strong.

  "Who's the American, and why the hell is the embassy involved?" he snapped, irritated at the interruption.

  "Sir, it's the famous antiquities dealer Brian Sadler."

  That revelation infuriated Shigon even more. What is this all about? he wondered. What's this guy doing in Israel, and why is the embassy asking for special favors? He knew who Sadler was, of course. He was interested in history and Sadler's TV specials provided fascinating trips into the past. He also knew the man had occasionally helped the American government, acting as an informant or a go-between on sensitive international issues. Now he was in Jerusalem, caught up in the lockdown, and he was pulling strings to get free. Given what was going on, the request pissed off Shigon much more than it might have at another time. There were strategic meetings every few hours, Israel's military was on full alert, and he had a war to plan. Instead, he was being interrupted to get some celebrity out of a jam.

  Shigon had deliberately left the United States out of discussions about the current Arab conflict. He had refused to take the president's calls because for once Israel was going to do what was best for Israel, period. He knew that America would be there in a crisis, but he wasn't going to beg for help only to find his request tossed from committee to committee in the American Congress and endlessly debated in the media. Israel was strong. God was on Israel's side. The Muslims believed the same thing about their cause, but Shigon knew his people's destiny. Their God would protect them until the end of time.