The Sacred Blood (24 page)

“Make an honest man out of him, will you?” David said to Jules, and waved them through the metal detectors.

45.

The delivery van that had awaited Rabbi Aaron Cohen’s arrival on the tarmac at Ben Gurion International was parked behind the modern wing next to the Rockefeller Museum exhibit halls.

Adjacent to the Israel Antiquities Authority’s director’s office, Cohen’s entourage entered a handsomely appointed octagonal meeting room set below a domed ceiling. Along each wall, eight niches were furnished with seats for the Archaeological Advisory Council’s auditors. And onto the room’s central table, Cohen’s men carefully set down the heavy consignment safely returned from Egypt.

Unlike the ossuary on display in the Rockefeller Museum’s South Gallery, what was inside this crate was certainly not intended for exhibition.

This was not something to be admired. It was to be respected and feared. And soon, for the first time in over three millennia, fear would return to the enemies of Zion.

“Lock the doors,” Cohen instructed his men. He pointed to the windows. “And shut the blinds.”

Luckily, the return to Tel Aviv hadn’t been nearly as eventful as the departure from Inshas. The perilous journey was nearly complete.

“Open it,” he ordered them. He stood back and watched them unpack their tools.

Like Moses preparing to claim the lands of Canaan, Cohen stood upon the threshold of a New Jerusalem—a new world. The bitter conflicts in the Middle East and Israel; the fall of the modern Babylon, Iraq; the godlessness and lasciviousness of Western culture poisoning the world; even the scourge of new pandemics like AIDS and the volatile climatic shifts that churned up more frequent tsunamis and hurricanes— all telling signs that the prophecies were finally being realized.

Since 1948, the promised land had virtually been reclaimed, and the tribes had gathered from around the world. Cohen knew that the return of God’s law patiently awaited the final signs, just as He’d promised to Ezekiel: “Although I sent them far away among the nations and scattered them among the countries . . . I will gather you from the nations and bring you back from the countries where you have been scattered, and I will give you back the land of Israel again . . . And I will also purge you of those who rebel and transgress against me.”

Only one spark remained, one single event culminating a final conflict that would usher in the Day of Judgment—a bloody clash between the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness.

As the men lifted the lid off the crate, Rabbi Aaron Cohen grinned widely.

As Grandfather had only dreamed, soon Zion would rise up like a phoenix.

The muted chiming of his cell phone inside his briefcase interrupted the moment. On the opposite side of the conference table, he set the briefcase down and opened it. He fished for the phone, which had slipped between the three plastic-sealed papyri safely recovered from Yosi’s office and an aerial schematic of the Temple Mount showing a bright blue line drawn through its midsection from west to east.

Agitated, he hit the receive button. “What is it?”

What the caller told him was gravely unsettling.
“You hold him there. I’m on my way. Do nothing until I arrive.”

46.

Amit turned right off the main walkway, splitting away from the herd of well-attired invitees en route to the Samuel Bronfman wing. Jules kept pace beside him up a paving-stone path cut through the lush campus surrounding the Israel Museum’s Shrine of the Book exhibit hall. A warm breeze sharpened the bouquet of the garden’s fragrant flowers and cypress trees.

“Let’s sit over here for a few minutes,” he suggested, pointing to the stone wall angling around a colossal basalt monolith.

While Amit unfolded the printout, Jules gazed across the plaza at the shimmering reflection pools and fountains around the illuminated shallow white dome of the exhibit hall.

“Ready?” he asked her.
“Ready,” she said, turning to him.
He paused a moment to look into her eyes. “I know this isn’t the best

date you’ve been on,” he said, “but I’m really glad you’re here with me.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You really know how to show a girl a good time. There’s no place I’d rather be.” Funny enough, she actually meant it—danger and all. “So let me hear it.”

Amit let out a long breath and began reading . . .

For forty days Moses convened in the light of God at Sinai. There, God bestowed unto Moses the Testimony so that the Israelites would walk the righteous path. When the people abided by the Testimony, good fortune followed them and He protected them. When His children were blinded by pride, great punishment was delivered unto them. Through great sacri
fice and bloodshed, the lands promised to the tribes of Abraham were thus delivered unto them so that a new nation might rise in honor of God.

The covenant was fulfilled, as told in the books of our ancestors.

King David built a city upon Abraham’s rock, and there his son Solomon erected a temple to honor Yahweh. In the Sanctuary, the Testimony was placed, for it was the heart of a new empire. There was peace and rejoicing throughout Zion.

The great empires to the south and to the east and to the north did look upon Israel with lust, for God’s blessing came with great fortune and prosperity.

Many kings did come after Solomon, though none as wise. The Israelites had forgotten their promise to Yahweh and Israel became weak. From over the mountains came armies that surrounded the walls of Jerusalem and threatened to lay siege. Thinking God had forgotten his children, the kings of Israel bowed down not before the Testimony, but before their enemies.

And so the righteous sons of Aaron who guarded the Testimony prepared for the day when Israel’s most sacred shrine would be plundered. The great prophet Isaiah counseled King Hezekiah, telling him, “The time will surely come when everything in your palace and all that your fathers have stored up until this day will be carried off to Babylon.” He then told the king that God had ordered a safe place to be built for the Testimony. For if it was lost, so too the Israelites would perish. So Hezekiah followed God’s will.

The kingdom of Babylon did rise up like a lion to devour Israel. They laid waste to the city and took away the many treasures from the temple. But when they entered the Innermost Sanctuary they found it empty.

As this is written, many more kings and empires have come and gone and a new temple is rising high above Abraham’s rock. But the Idumean king Herod the Great builds it not in humility to God, but to honor vanity and pride. So too the priests blaspheme God by straying from His laws. Therefore its grand Sanctuary will remain empty. For to restore the Testimony, Israel must once again turn to God, disavow false idols, and see that it is not Rome that oppresses them, but faithlessness.

As Moses spoke the Testimony to the Israelites who knelt before the false idol, I too bring a message of hope for all children of God, for a new covenant will be made. Those who seek the light will be enlightened. And as Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son to God, so too a new sacrifice in

blood will be offered upon Mount Moriah.

For this, the unbelievers will make a great mockery of me. They will gather against me. They will pierce my flesh and hang me from a tree. Fear not, for the flesh will be sacrificed so that the eternal spark may live on. Only then will I be given back to God to prepare the way for His eternal Kingdom.

Hear now that Israel will then perish, its idolatrous temple laid to ruin, and those who do not fall to the sword will be scattered. Many will lay claim to Abraham’s altar before the glorious temple rises up again, many lifetimes from now. You will know when that day comes, for my broken body will be reclaimed from beneath the sacred rock as a sign that a new covenant will be made.

Look not for the Testimony here, for Onias and the Sons of Aaron have brought it to a more righteous place in the land where the Israelites had once been captives. Forty days after God shakes the land of Zion shall it be brought and set upon Abraham’s rock.

Then the spirit of the Son of Man will descend upon the Chosen One to restore the Testimony.

The disbelievers will heed not the signs put forth before them. Thus a great battle will follow between the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness. But fear not, O Israel, for out of the ashes, the sheep will lie with the wolf and all peoples in all lands will look in wonder upon Zion and praise God.

Letting out a prolonged breath, Amit was speechless
.
“If that’s what those scrolls said”—Jules had to get up and pace in a

circle—“sounds to me like they were written by—” “Jesus,” Amit said. “Do you know what this means?” she rhetorically asked. “The implica

tions? My God, this is the find of the century!” “
Was
the find of the century, Jules,” he reminded her. Her enthusiasm immediately shrank. “Obviously someone doesn’t want this to be made public.” And more

and more Rabbi Aaron Cohen fit the bill. “But why? It’s tremendous.” “If you don’t mind me saying, I’m not sure that you’re quite getting

it right,” he said. “This is a prophecy, Jules. A prophecy triggered by the discovery of Jesus’s bones beneath the Temple Mount. And all this talk of the Testimony . . .” He shook his head.

She wasn’t hearing him. “So what do you think the rabbi wants out of this?”

A much clearer picture was forming in Amit’s mind now. And it was a terrifying proposition. When he looked over at the Shrine of the Book’s white dome, a final puzzle piece snapped into place in his mind. “Let me show you,” he said, getting to his feet and waving for her to follow.

47.

Mediterranean Sea 38˚ N, 19˚ E

Charlotte’s consciousness was a patchy haze, her senses tuning in and out in wild disarray.

Smells came first—spicy, pleasant. Cumin? Cloves? Maybe an exotic Middle Eastern dish. Strange.

Sounds came next—muffled, distant. Then sharper. Voices—maybe two, maybe five. It all seemed to blend together so that only their pitch created any distinction between them. But certainly men. A blaring whine came and went through her head, loud enough to make her wince. Then the voices became clearer. They were speaking in a foreign tongue. Definitely no romance language. Yiddish, maybe?

No sight. This scared her at first, until she could feel her eyelashes sweeping against the blindfold wrapped over her eyes. There was no hope of removing it, because her wrists were pulled tight behind her back with some kind of strap. And when she tried to move her left ankle, she felt resistance there too. Her leg had been tied to something.

She felt like she could vomit.

Then the numbness in her arms and legs began to give way to sharp pins and needles. Twisting cramps came next—neck, shoulders, back, hands . . . It took all of her power not to scream out. As she squirmed to ease the pain, the reclined leather seat she’d been propped in groaned.

She froze.

The voices went on.

There was definitely a sense of motion—smooth coasting. The way the sounds resonated around her, it certainly was too big to be a car. A bus was a possibility. Then a brief interval of turbulence dispelled any guesswork. The seat belt indicator chimed briefly overhead. More bumps, rougher this time.

The voices were laughing now. One of the men was taking a ribbing, probably because he was overreacting to the bumpy flight.

Then the pain ripped up her spine and circled up the back of her head, making her moan loud enough for them to hear.

The voices stopped. There came a brief exchange that she knew was something along the lines of:

“You do it.”

“I already checked on her. It’s your turn.”

One of them let out a tired groan and she could hear his heavy feet thumping along the cabin floor.

She tried her best to pretend she was still out. But she could feel him close, leaning over her, his warm breath reeking of scotch. The smell of metal came up into her nostrils too. She felt a large hand cup her breast and squeeze.

“Get off me!” she screamed, recoiling from his touch—more pain exploded along her shoulders.

The laughing intensified.

“Sounds like she needs more drugs,” another voice called over.

Then the blindfold was stripped away.

Charlotte’s eyes squinted against the cabin’s bright lights. When everything came into focus, she saw the tall man from Phoenix, his complexion clammy (except for the blotchy, blistered burns below his chin where Evan’s coffee had left its mark), his tearing eyes glazed red. And his left arm was wrapped in a blood-soaked towel, the hand immobile and blue. It was a grotesque sight.

“See what your friend did to me?” he slurred.

Donovan! What had they done to him?
Then Charlotte’s stomach revolted and she retched violently.

“Bitch!” the man cursed furiously, just before jabbing a syringe into her thigh.

“Good night,” was the last thing she heard.

48.

Jerusalem

Once past security, the rabbi stormed in hobbled strides across the Western Wall Plaza toward the blazing white work lights that lit up the entry to the Western Wall Tunnel. He tried his best to be cordial to the teenage IDF soldiers guarding the entrance, but because of their incompetence he now had another mess to clean up.

Past the pallets of stone and portable cement mixers, he trounced down the stairs and cut through the massive subterranean visitors’ hall without giving it a cursory glance. His eyes were locked on the security door up ahead.

At the door, he grumbled as he swept his key card through the reader to free the lock. What good was such a useless protocol now?

Through the narrow channel running along the Temple Mount’s foundation he came to the group of men huddled outside Warren’s Gate.

“What happened?” Cohen yelled before he’d even reached them.

The men separated and fell back, revealing the subject they’d surrounded—a young man, hands tied behind his back, on his knees. One of the men maintained his hold on a handgun pressed firmly behind the man’s ear.