Ark of Fire

CHAPTER 13

“. . . The story of the Ark of the Covenant is an operatic drama played out on the stage of the biblical Holy Land,” Caedmon continued in answer to Edie Miller’s question.

“‘Operatic’? Don’t you think you’re laying it on a bit thick?” his companion sardonically remarked.

“Not in the least. As you undoubtedly know, the Ark of the Covenant, or aron habrit in Hebrew, was an ornate chest that was roughly four feet long, two and a half feet wide, and two and half feet high”—as he spoke, Caedmon spanned his hands first in one direction, then the other, approximating the proportions in midair—“inlaid with hammered gold. But what you may not know is that the Ark of the Covenant was constructed exactly like an Egyptian bark.”

“Like the gold boxes that I saw last year at the King Tut exhibit, right?”

“Right down to the gold rim on the lid and the winged figures which adorned the top cover. Furthermore, the Egyptian bark and the Ark of the Covenant both had the same purpose: to contain their respective deities.”

Her brow furrowed. “But I thought the Ark of the Covenant was a container for the Ten Commandments. What are you saying, that the Ark of the Covenant was some kind of magical God-in-the-box, like in that movie Raiders of the Lost Ark?”

Caedmon chuckled, amused by the question. “Just as the sacred Egyptian bark contained the might and majesty of Aten, so, too, the Ark of the Covenant contained the power and glory of Yahweh. And once contained, the only means by which to control all that cosmic power was for the high priest to shield himself with the Stones of Fire.”

Raising her steaming cup to her lips, Edie took several moments to digest what he’d just said. As she did, Caedmon surveyed the throng of museum patrons. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary; his eyes took passing note of a man pushing a wheelchair-bound octogenarian, a custodian pushing a yellow bucket, and a harried mother pushing a covered pram. Briefly he noticed two youths, one fuchsia-haired, the other a tiger-stripe, locked in a passionate embrace in front of the massive glass wall that fronted a cascading waterfall.

“Okay, we know what happened to the breastplate; it was confiscated by Nebuchadnezzar, hidden in Babylon, and recently rediscovered and smuggled out of Iraq,” Edie said, drawing his attention back to the table. “But what happened to the Ark of the Covenant?”

Ah, a woman after his own heart, the topic long a favorite of his.

“At some point after the construction of Solomon’s famous temple, the Ark of the Covenant disappeared from the pages of the Bible. Whether it was captured, destroyed, or hidden, its current whereabouts are unknown.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Yeah, well, I seem to recall you saying the same thing about the Stones of Fire, but the breastplate managed to mysteriously turn up. And because of it, you and I are now in serious danger.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Caedmon noticed that the custodian pushing the yellow bucket had suddenly broken ranks and was headed in their direction.

Odd that the man was wearing military-style combat boots.

Even more odd that the man was built like a Bristol rugger bugger.

He was big. Really, really big. Steroid big.

Recalling Edie’s earlier description of Padgham’s killer, Caedmon felt a prickly sensation on the back of his neck.

“I am beginning to concur with your assessment,” he murmured, his eyes still trained on the custodial giant, watching as the man removed his right hand from the mop handle and reached behind his back.

In that instant, Caedmon saw the flash of a silver ring. In the next instant, he caught the dark flash of—He squinted, bringing the object into focus. Bloody hell! The man had a gun!