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

by Bill Thompson

  Speaking of what Abdel had done, Brian needed to arrange protection for the gallery immediately. He called the security firm he'd used earlier and hired round-the-clock guards for Abdel's shuttered shop.

  Next, he called Nicole. Unlike the upbeat conversation they'd had this afternoon, now she was far less exuberant. Abdel's actions made her sad because she, like Brian, knew it was a last resort. And now, despite the anguish over Brian's adventure in Israel, now he owned a shop there. He would be back to Jerusalem on a regular basis. She asked him about that; he promised that coming home was still the immediate thing on his agenda. Before he left, he'd go by the gallery, make sure everything was good, and leave it locked and guarded until he could plan another trip.

  "Promise you'll come home this time?" she asked. "Please, Brian. Do you promise?"

  "Yes, I do." And he meant it.

  He put everything back into the FedEx package, walked down the hall and knocked lightly on Becky's door. She looked perkier than when he'd last seen her.

  "I told my doctor I was going to the cave tomorrow morning," she said slowly, wincing when she tried to grin. "He wagged a finger at me but also said there's no reason I couldn't. I can hardly wait!"

  He showed her the parcel he'd received from Athens and told her that Abdel had transferred his gallery and contents to him. She agreed with Brian that it was a final, tragic move for the Arab dealer. Brian regretted that he might never know the fate of this man who had been his colleague and perhaps even his friend.

  Becky knew Malouf by reputation and commented that he had handled some extraordinary pieces in the past several years, a few of which she had hoped could have been displayed in a museum. Brian said he was open to that discussion – there would be time for that once the most pressing issue was dealt with. They had to see where things stood with the treasure. But that was tomorrow, and right now he had one more revelation.

  He handed her the golden plate. She turned it over and over in her hands, watching its surface glisten from the reflection off the overhead light.

  "It's incredible," she murmured. "Close the door, pull up a chair and tell me where you found this fascinating object."

  He explained that it had come in the same parcel and handed her the letter, saying he didn't know if it pertained to the relic or not.

  "I'm fluent in Arabic," she said. "I can read this if you wish. It may take time because I'm not moving at full speed right now."

  "If you're up to it, I'd like that very much. I'm really excited about the plate, and I hope this explains what it is."

  My friend Brian, she began to read.

  I am grateful for your willingness to help someone you barely knew – a man whom you thought was your business associate but who instead was something entirely different. Yes, as you pointed out, I am al Qaeda even today – one can never be a "former" member. Please understand that when I was a young man, al Qaeda was a noble cause. It fought for purity, the sanctity of Islam against the godless peoples of the world, and it appeared to follow the teachings of Mohammed. I believe its followers back then were devout supporters of what was good and right.

  Long ago I was sent to Jerusalem on a secret mission and I carried it out with loyalty and dignity. I became an Israeli citizen and a part of the community. I integrated myself completely into my new life and my new country. Yes, you can call me what I was – an infiltrator, a mole and a spy – but my superiors rarely asked anything of me, and even then, only in the beginning. For many, many years I heard absolutely nothing from Syria. I chose to think they were finished with me, although in my heart I knew someday I would hear from them again.

  Tariq learned that you were coming to Jerusalem for the auction. He called me the day we went to the cave at Beth Shean and gave me orders. He wanted to see you in person – to give you a message for your president. I knew from the news that Tariq had ordered the assassinations of your vice president and Israel's prime minister, but I was afraid. I did as he commanded. I admit my weakness, my friend, and I trust that Allah will grant you safety even though I betrayed you.

  Becky paused and glanced up at Brian. "He was a good man after all," she said quietly.

  "He really was."

  I now will reveal a secret that I have kept since 2005. It was then that I learned of the hidden treasure of Isaiah and saw it for myself. Before it was purchased by Israel as a national park, most of Beth Shean – including the cave – belonged to one man. My cousin, a poor Arab shepherd boy who worked for the owner, stumbled upon the cavern much as the discoverers of the caves at Qumran did. Bedouins there found the Dead Sea Scrolls, while my cousin found the treasure of Solomon's Temple, something I hope your documentary will demonstrate was an equally astounding discovery.

  In 2005, the United States had invaded Iraq and ISIS was just beginning to show its true colors. Its leaders were not friends and protectors of the people, I observed, and al Qaeda was quickly becoming just like ISIS. These were extremists bent on destroying history, defacing monuments, stealing anything that was important to civilization and promoting terrorism against both infidels and their own people. It mattered not if civilian men, women and children of Syria or Iraq were brutally murdered in the name of Islamic radicalism. It was Allah's will, they would have you believe. But their actions speak the truth. They twist and distort the Quran. And I was determined not to allow them to get their hands on the Israelite treasure. If they did, the priceless memories of a civilization would be destroyed.

  To protect the valuables, I became the Zulqarnayn, a title once held by Alexander III of Macedonia and later by Cyrus, the king of Persia who freed the Israelites and brought this very treasure back to Jerusalem. The Zulqarnayn is Allah's direct representative, empowered to protect the world from the evil Gog and Magog until the end times. I know now that ISIS and al Qaeda are Gog and Magog and I have done my part to keep them at bay, but now my time is finished.

  My cousin, the one who found the cave, became my partner and for these many years we have kept the secret. I revealed it to you because ISIS and al Qaeda have become more vicious than ever. The destruction of monuments at Palmyra, the looting of the museum at Mosul and hundreds of other travesties through the region convinced me that if the jihadists gain a foothold in northern Israel, both the ancient city of Beth Shean and the treasure itself are doomed.

  Brian, I must leave now. I must create a new life and give up everything from my past. I cannot protect the treasure any longer. Please become the Zulqarnayn yourself. Read about him. Learn what he stands for and what treasures he guards. Who better than an "infidel" to fight Tariq? Save the treasure, I beg of you. Save Beth Shean's ancient temples from Tariq's destructive forces. Keep the tradition alive, my friend. Become the Zulqarnayn, as Alexander the Great and King Cyrus did. Save the treasures of God's chosen people. May good fortune and safety accompany your every move. I wish you well.

  He asked her to pause for a moment. He was becoming emotional, finally seeing the torment his friend must have experienced. Abdel truly was ashamed of what he once had been. He really was a good, honest man, but Brian had refused to believe it. He couldn't be blamed for mistrusting the man, but he was remorseful that his negativity might have pushed Abdel to decide to leave his life behind.

  "This is difficult to hear," he said, drawing a big breath of air.

  "I can only imagine. There's more. Should I continue?"

  She read the rest of his letter – incredible words that took them back thousands of years – and they realized the significance of the golden plate. It was the key that unlocked the secrets of the temple treasure. Abdel said it was the only thing he had ever removed from the cavern, and they understood why he took this one important object. If ISIS had found the trove and melted down this relic, a priceless chronicle of Jewish history would have disappeared forever.

  "We'll feature this prominently in the documentary," Brian murmured when she was finished. "It'll be a tribute to Abdel."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-O
NE

  They sat in silence for several minutes and then she whispered, "This plate is as important as the Dead Sea Scrolls, don't you agree?"

  "Yes, but what if the treasure's gone?"

  "All right, Brian. I have a confession. I'm afraid I've deceived you a bit. I briefed the prime minister about the site and what it contained. I told you I sent the Antiquities Theft Prevention Unit to the cave, but what I didn't say was that I sent their boss – a trusted aide of mine named Colonel Green – down into the cavern. I had to know if things were all right. I was going to keep it a secret until we got there, but now I realize I should have told you earlier. Take a look at these." She handed him her cellphone and he scrolled through a set of pictures. Everything appeared to be exactly as it was the last time they were there. Tariq's men hadn't gotten to the site in time!

  She asked, "Is it all right if I send the plate to my office for translation and examination? I promise it'll be safe and secure."

  That was exactly what Brian was going to suggest. He snapped pictures of the front and back, returned it to the FedEx package and handed it to her. She made a call and thirty minutes later the plate was in a safe at the Antiquities Authority. A linguist would work on it tomorrow while they were away.

  The next morning Brian and Becky left the hospital. With sirens screaming and red lights flashing, Israeli military police led three black Range Rovers and an ambulance from Jerusalem and over to Beth Shean. A Jeep with four heavily armed soldiers brought up the rear, ensuring there would be no surprises during the visit to the cave today. The prime minister had approved the extra security and sent a photographer. Brian and two guards were in the middle SUV.

  Becky slept in the ambulance. Her physician had allowed her to travel, but only if EMTs and a nurse went along. The ambulance made it easier for her; she could rest most of the trip and the attendants were there to apply fresh bandages, give her medications and handle any complications that arose. Her wound wasn't that deep, but the slice of the knife had cut the skin across her entire throat. It had required many stitches and she was on a light regimen of pain medication. The healing process was just beginning and it would be a slow process, her doctor had advised.

  Obeying their orders not to enter, the soldiers were at their posts when the entourage arrived. She gave instructions and one of them led them down the corridor, cradling his M4 carbine as he sidled through the tight part. Brian went next, followed by Becky, her nurse, the photographer and a second soldier. Becky moaned as she was forced to bend her head to navigate the passage, but she wouldn't have turned back for anything in the world.

  As they crawled into the cavern and turned their flashlights on, there were murmurs of astonishment. This was Brian's third time here, but it was as breathtaking as the first. The treasure lay everywhere in front of them, but considering the large number of individual pieces, it would be impossible to know if some had been removed. Becky led the photographer around, pointing out the things she wanted him to shoot, while Brian took a hundred pictures of his own on his iPhone.

  _____

  At the White House, President Harrison made a hard decision, one that was as disappointing to him as it was necessary under the circumstances. He and the Israeli prime minister had conferred by phone for over an hour yesterday about a permanent location for the American embassy. Shigon implored him to stay the course and rebuild the compound in West Jerusalem. It was a matter of national pride for Israel and Harry understood the reasoning, despite the ever-increasing risk of danger from an incensed group of Palestinians.

  The NSA had proven that the missile attack on the embassy was the work of the Syrian government and not al Qaeda, the leader of which had threatened to bring casualties on the infidels. But the American people saw no distinction between organized terrorists and state terrorism. Whoever was behind it, the mass murder of nearly a hundred American citizens at the compound had resulted in fervent patriotism and renewed Islamophobia.

  Harry was on the same page as Shigon. He wanted to defy the terrorists and keep the embassy in Jerusalem, but he couldn't risk more lives in Israel and possibly at home for something that was more symbolic than necessary. He told Shigon he had sought input from leaders on both sides of the aisle, his national security team and the CIA, and everyone agreed that the security of American citizens came first. The embassy would stay in Tel Aviv, a new ambassador and deputy would be appointed, and hopefully the people of America could eventually put aside their rekindled anger at Muslims.

  The Tel Aviv Airport reopened without fanfare only twenty days after the bombing, although on a vastly reduced scale. The part of the terminal building that was undamaged had been modified to provide the bare necessities of international ingress and egress. Existing tenants were forced out. A bookstore became the airport operations office, a coffee shop the customs and immigration area, and a large upscale duty-free shop now housed temporary arrival and departure lounges. For security and logistical reasons, only three airlines received authorization to serve the airport until it could be rebuilt. Their ticket counters were set up in a long hallway where kiosks once offered sunglasses, magazines and cellphone accessories.

  Armed guards were posted every ten feet along two heavy security fences that encircled the building. The terminal was open to passengers only; no one passed through the three-tier inspection zone without a passport and a same-day ticket. Three miles from the airport, a huge parking lot had been hastily created to accommodate all vehicular traffic, including taxis and limos. Shuttles ran to the terminal every few minutes. People arriving to pick up inbound passengers waited in that lot, not at the terminal. Some were upset, but Israelis knew better than to fret. This country did things its own way and security – always a high priority – was an obsession now.

  _____

  Since Brian could hardly wait to see Nicole, he and Becky crammed meeting after meeting into two long, grueling days, visiting with one official after another to hash out a thousand details. Each of them had to mesh to create a television documentary in a foreign country.

  There were meetings with the prime minister, agency heads and Knesset leaders, who had to push through legislation approving the project. Everything went smoothly and Becky was instructed to issue permits allowing the ruined city at Beth Shean and the cave to be used for Brian's documentary.

  Truly believing the relics must stay in Israel, he asked for nothing for himself. His payment-in-kind from the Israeli government for his role in revealing and protecting the treasure trove would be simple. He would own the documentary in perpetuity. That was an income stream that would give him millions of dollars for many years from royalties and broadcast rights.

  They went to the American embassy in Tel Aviv to meet with the acting ambassador and a team she had assembled. Over the next few months this group would generate the paperwork required to bring Brian's production crew and tons of equipment to Israel.

  Everywhere he went, Brian was pleased at the level of cooperation he was afforded. The Israeli government saw the documentary as a means of taking the world's collective mind off the never-ending politics of the Middle East. The discovery would make Jews everywhere proud that the lost treasures mentioned by the prophet Isaiah were revealed at last in majestic splendor.

  After two tiring ten-hour days of administrative meetings, it was Brian's last night in Israel. He'd been staying at the embassy since his release from the hospital, but today's meetings were in Jerusalem, so tonight he was back at the David Citadel Hotel once more. Tomorrow afternoon he would fly to London Heathrow and before midnight he'd be in the arms of the wife he hadn't seen in eighteen days.

  He and Becky Kohl would have a last round of meetings tomorrow morning, and he'd asked her to join him tonight for his last dinner in Israel. They were seated on the patio, he with his martini and she a glass of white wine. He pointed to the breathtaking picture of the Old City bathed in moonlight just across a small valley.

  "Nicole and I were swept away
by that view the first evening we were here," he said. "It's hard to believe that was nearly a month ago. I'll never forget my time here. Despite everything that happened, I think I've been closer to God in the past four weeks than in my entire life."

  "Israel can have that effect on people," she agreed. "Whether you're Christian, Jew or Muslim, this is a holy city – your holy city. We all have our differences, but we all have things in common too. Take Isaiah for instance. All three religions believe that Isaiah was a prophet. He told us there were hidden treasures and that Cyrus would help the Jews rebuild their temple. Thanks to Abdel, you proved it true.

  "He asked you to become the protector of the treasure – the Zulqarnayn. In a way, you did what he asked. You are the protector of the temple treasure. I can provide men with guns to keep out looters, but your role is far more significant. Your documentary will bring it to life for millions. Once that happens, I am hopeful we can raise funds to properly make it accessible to pilgrims who wish to see God's handiwork in person."

  Almost twenty-four hours after their dinner, his trip was over at last. As the massive British Airways Boeing 777 rolled down the runway and turned northwest to cross the Mediterranean Sea, he took off his watch. He rolled the hands back two hours to London time. He'd land in six hours and be at the Stafford Hotel ninety minutes after that. He reclined his seat, ordered a glass of champagne and held it high, toasting the success of his journey, thanking God for safety, and remembering Abdel Malouf, wherever he was today.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The world soon learned that the full name of the thirty-four-year-old al Qaeda terrorist in custody was Tariq Majd Saada. It had been years since anyone had called him by that name. Since he was a teen, he had been known as the Hawk. A man who'd never been photographed, his picture now was plastered on every media outlet in the world, and everyone could see the defiant, arrogant, cruel demeanor of this ruthless killer.