The Temple Mount Code (12 page)

Slowly, Lourds walked forward. Tortoiseshells lay at the head of each body, and there were dozens of them in the tomb. Picking up one, he examined it in the spotter light. Nine symbols had been etched into the plastron.

Lourds only recognized two of them from the sixteen that scholars had found while digging at Jiahu. Not only that, beside the next body lay a delicate bone flute about eight inches long and half an inch in diameter.

The instrument alone was enough to make a career.

Hu handled the bone flute with reverence. So far it was the only one they had found. ‘You know what you’ve done, don’t you, Thomas?’

‘What
we’ve
done, you mean?’ Lourds smiled and looked at the chamber and at Gloria Chen organizing a quick cataloguing effort of the find. ‘Yes, I know what we’ve done. Opened up a whole new field of study for people involved in the Jiahu dig.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know if those people are going to love us or hate us. We’ve increased their workload considerably.’

‘As long as they get additional funding to support their efforts, they’ll love us.’ The older man’s hazel eyes gleamed with joy. ‘You also realize we’ll have to prepare a paper on this discovery soon.’

‘I do. And we will.’ Lourds yawned tiredly. Staying up half the night was wearing on him after the day he’d had. But he wouldn’t have traded any of the experiences for anything.

Rory and the BBC crew had a very small area they could rove in, and they weren’t happy about it, but the monks and the Sherpas enforced the restricted space.

‘Seriously, Professor Lourds, we should be getting all of this on camera.’ Rory fumed, but didn’t try to bypass the Sherpas or the monks. ‘We should be involved with aspects of this story. If it weren’t for us, you wouldn’t be here now.’

Lourds turned to the man. ‘Rory, I like you. You’re a good guy. You know your stuff when it comes to what you do. But this is what
I
do, and I know better than to let an amateur walk through what we have here. What we’ve found here is important. Maybe it seems like what someone found in an attic to you, but these are the kinds of finds that can teach the world a lot about how people lived thousands of years ago. Believe it or not, all those decisions all those years ago still have an impact on how we define ourselves as people.’

Rory scowled, but didn’t object.

Lourds took the boon flute from Hu. ‘This is a
gudi,
a truly rare find in the Jiahu dig. They’re made from the wings of red-crowned cranes. They were used to make music, probably in sacrificial rites as well, and most certainly in bird hunting. But I’m sure you already knew that.’

Self-consciously, Rory dropped his gaze, then held up a hand in surrender. ‘All right. Fine. Have it your way.’

‘Thank you.’ Lourds smiled. ‘As we dig these things out,
carefully,
we’ll show them to you. Take as many pictures as you want, as much footage. Interview me, Professor Hu, or any of these graduate-level students accompanying us.’

‘The students?’

‘Yes, the students. As of this moment, they’re the foremost experts in the field on this find.’

15

Quarter Café

Tiferet Yisrael Street

Jerusalem, the State of Israel

July 28, 2011

‘Lev, you know you shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.’

Smiling slightly, unwilling to admit how scared he was these days – not even to himself – Lev Strauss shook his head. ‘I am here with you, Ezra. How could I not be safe?’

Ezra Goldstein sat on the other side of the small table at the back of the café. In his late-twenties, he was far too serious for his years. The Mossad made them that way these days, though. When Lev had been with the intelligence agency, they had still been solemn, but there were times when they could play.

‘This isn’t funny, Lev. The work you’re doing, what you’re looking for, it’s important.’

‘You really think so?’ Lev tore off a piece of his bagel and popped it into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, but these days he didn’t taste much – his stomach always stayed sour with fear. He wasn’t afraid of what might happen to him. Rather, he was afraid of what might happen if he failed at his self-appointed task. ‘Because I don’t think your taskmasters take what I’m trying to do any too seriously.’

‘Whether they do or not, I’m here.’ Ezra met Lev’s gaze with an earnestness that almost shamed him. ‘I’m with you, Lev, and I’m putting my life on the line every time you walk out of your flat.’

That made Lev feel bad because he knew it was true. ‘I know, and I apologize, but I can’t sit inside those four walls the rest of my life.’

‘Don’t think like it’s going to be for the rest of your life. Think like it’s just going to be for a few more days.’

‘Is it? Is that all it’s going to be? Because I’ve invested over a year of my life in this search so far, my friend, and I’ve got precious little to show for it. Even your superiors have doubts about this.’ Lev sighed and dropped the remains of his bagel onto his plate.

‘You should eat.’

‘I can’t. Nothing tastes right.’

‘Don’t taste it. Eat it. Your stomach doesn’t care if anything tastes good. It just wants to be fed.’ Ezra sat there, fit and trim, broad-shouldered, and probably with a gun tucked at the back of his waist under his long-tailed shirt.

He was a man of action, a man of possibilities, and in that moment, Lev resented the younger man for that. On days like this, when he was filled with anger and fear, Lev’s missing left foot ached something fierce. He wanted to reach down to massage it, but he’d left it somewhere in the Dead Sea region.

‘I have to get out and walk.’ Lev tried the bagel again. He still couldn’t taste it, but he didn’t care. Eating it gave his hands something to do. ‘I need to walk so my mind will work. Staying in that apartment causes me to freeze up.’ He peered over Ezra’s shoulder.

In the distance, the Western Wall stood at the foot of Temple Mount. The familiar gold dome atop the temple gleamed in the fading afternoon light. Pedestrians – many of the tourists, not citizens – walked along the sidewalks.

The way Ezra saw the world, all of them were potential assassins. It was a view that would keep him alive for a while.

‘You were in the Gaza Strip only a few days ago.’ Ezra sipped his tea and watched the café’s diners.

‘Under careful watch.’ Lev shook his head. ‘That wasn’t like truly being out.’

Ezra started to say something, then hesitated.

‘Tell me. You might as well. If you don’t, you’ll be around me the rest of the day acting like you’ve got something stuck in your throat.’

‘You remember the men we had guarding you in the Gaza?’

A chill ghosted through Lev, and he knew something bad had happened. ‘Yes.’

‘Two of them went missing after we got you out of there.’

‘What do you mean?’

Without inflection, Ezra went on. ‘They were captured, tortured, and killed.’

‘My God.’

‘Their heads and feet were received by their families today.’

Sickness swirled in the pit of Lev’s stomach.

Ezra leaned forward and tapped the tabletop. ‘Some people know what you’re after, Lev. And they believe what you’re searching for exists. That has caught the attention of my superiors. That is why they won’t believe I am letting you walk around the city today.’

‘Why was I not told?’

‘They did not want to burden you.’ Ezra shrugged. ‘I thought you should know. Maybe you will take the matter of your safety a little more seriously.’

Lev’s head swam. ‘I need to get out of here.’

‘Back to the flat?’ Ezra’s firm gaze told him no other answer was acceptable.

‘Yes.’ Lev pushed up from the table.

‘Have you paid attention to the television reports coming in from the Himalayas?’ Ezra walked on the outside of the sidewalk, his eyes always roving and watchful. He was an excellent bodyguard. Lev knew the signs from having worked personal-security detachments.

‘No.’ Lev walked easily, with no trace of a limp. His prosthesis had been with him for more than thirteen years, and had become part of him long ago.

‘According to your file, you knew Professor Thomas Lourds.’

For a moment, Lev’s heart sank, thinking of the two guards in the Gaza whose names he couldn’t remember. Thomas Lourds was one of the most vibrant men he’d ever met, and a good friend. The world was a better place with him in it. ‘Has something happened to Thomas?’

‘No, he’s fine.’

‘Then I still
know
him. Thomas and I are old friends.’

‘Evidently he’s had a bit of good fortune.’

Lev smiled a true smile then. ‘Knowing Thomas, I’m not surprised. He was always the luckiest man I’ve ever known. What has happened?’

‘He discovered some kind of forgotten temple in the Himalayas. The story has been all over the media. I’m surprised you didn’t know.’

‘I’ve been studying the books and the notes I’ve gathered for this last year. There’s been little time in my life for anything else.’

‘The news broke concerning the story three days ago.’

‘He found something?’

‘Ancient artifacts that date back to 5800
BC
, according to the BBC reports I saw.’

‘In the Himalayas?’

‘Yes.’

Lev shook his head. ‘Only Thomas could do something like that.’

In the small flat, Lev sat with Ezra and watched television. Lourds’s find in the Scholar’s Rock Temple was on the BBC news channels. The British were making the most of their scoop, but other media agencies had swooped in on the story as well.

Watching the raw footage of the temple caverns and the scholar’s rocks, Lev was impressed. The find was already turning out to be one that would cause history books to be rewritten and launch future studies.

‘I remember Lourds from the Atlantis discovery he worked on a couple of years ago.’ Ezra sat on the low couch with his elbows on his knees. A pair of pistols lay on the coffee table in front of him. ‘And there was that cache of books he found in Istanbul that no one knew about. He’s an interesting man.’

‘Thomas would laugh to hear you say that. He would act like it was nothing.’ Lev smiled knowingly. ‘But inside he would preen like a peacock.’ He stretched out his leg and took the weight off the prosthesis. ‘When I talk to him about this, I’m going to ask him why he didn’t find this the last time we were in the Himalayas.’

‘You were in the Himalayas?’

Lev nodded. ‘A few times.’ On some of those instances, he’d been there on Mossad business watching Indian and Pakistani troop movements. ‘Thomas and I worked among the Muslim Chinese Uighur tribes. Both of us have linguistic backgrounds, and we documented a lot of information on the tribesmen. They served as the custodians of the Mongol Empire. Their records, once Thomas and I had them deciphered, gave us a lot of information about the Mongols, trade along the Silk Road, and the Uighur Khaganate.’

‘And you lived in the Himalayas while you were doing this?’ Ezra looked impressed.

Lev nodded. ‘We did. On the southwestern side of the Himalayas.’

‘Sounds like good times.’

‘It was.’

‘That was sarcasm, by the way.’

‘I know.’ Lev smiled. ‘That was about fifteen years ago, when I was better equipped for getting around in mountainous terrain, before I lost my leg.’ He continued watching the special, and for the time being, his own problems seemed far away.

That night, in front of his computer, Lev sorted through the digital images of illustrated manuscripts he’d assembled. He had read the translations so many times that he’d practically memorized them. Leaning back in his chair, he tried to gather his thoughts.

He was missing a key to the puzzle before him, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.

In the other room, Ezra watched ESPN on the television. European football filled the screen.

Thinking about Lourds, Lev accessed some of his off-site files and brought up photographs taken from the time he and his friend had spent among the Uighurs. Those had been good times. Both of them had been young and competitive, with each other as well as with their hosts.

And they had made friends. Over the years, Lev had kept in touch with some of them. A man who lived his life constantly on the go hung on to the friends he made even though he didn’t see them for years.

Closing out the pictures, Lev stared at the image of Mohammad flying on al-Buraq. He clicked through the images, then saw the one that most disturbed him: the one where Mohammad had unknowingly dropped his copy of the Koran and the Scroll that foretold the future.

When he’d first heard that story, Lev hadn’t been able to forget it. A united Muslim front would mean the end of Israel. The
jihad
would sweep across the globe, and the world would never know peace again.

No matter what he had to do, who he had to risk, the Book and Scroll couldn’t fall into Muslim hands. He had sworn that when he’d found the first image of the falling Book and Scroll.

Lev had wanted to know if the story was just a fabrication. Or if it was true, he had wanted to find those things and save his people.

He frowned, displeased at how firmly he’d gotten stuck on the project. It wasn’t his own hubris that kept him from seeking out help. The Israeli government hadn’t wanted him spreading the knowledge that he was looking for Mohammad’s lost Koran. Even admitting the Book might exist would be harmful to his people.

There were few people he could trust.

But he trusted one man. And maybe it was time to bring him into the fold.

If he would come.

Lev brought up Facebook and quickly went through his list of contacts.

Ziya Kadeer had been a young boy fifteen years ago when Lev had first met him. Now he was an import/export businessman in Artux, in the northeastern section of the Tarim Basin, the foothills of the Himalayas. They still exchanged letters, though these days they were more likely to be texts or Facebook messages.

When he checked, Lev found that Ziya was logged on to Facebook. He opened a dialogue box.