Ark of Fire

CHAPTER 82

Unable to stop what had become an almost compulsive behavior, Stan MacFarlane again glanced at the innocuous shipping container on the other side of the tower room.

Before permitting the Ark to be packed for transport, he’d spent hours gazing upon it. Awestruck. For someone accustomed to the severe austerity of a Baptist church, the Ark had about it an almost pagan beauty. From the fierce pair of winged cherubim mounted on the gold lid to the strange and incomprehensible symbols incised on all four sides, it bespoke an ancient and holy heritage. A time when Moses led the Hebrew children to the land promised to them by God.

Anxious, he pushed his folding chair away from the camp table and reached for the pair of night-vision goggles. NVGs in hand, he walked over to the square-cut opening on the other side of the circular room. The tower had once been used by the Knights of St. John to monitor sea travel. This night, it served the same purpose, as Stan watched for the luxury yacht that had set sail from Israel earlier in the week. Owned by Moshe Reznick, a Knesset member and cofounder of the Jerusalem-based Third Temple Movement, the yacht would briefly anchor in the bay, pick up its precious cargo, then make the return trip to Haifa. From there, the Ark would be transported to Jerusalem. Stan and his gunnery sergeant, Boyd Braxton, would accompany the Ark on its sea voyage. The rest of his men would fly into Ben-Gurion Airport. Christian tourists making the pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

The yacht was due to arrive within the hour.

There were many who would argue that having been uncovered, the Ark should be placed in a museum. But there was only one place for the Ark, that place having been ordained by God. The yet-to-be-built Third Temple in Jerusalem.

Once constructed, the Third Temple would stand for a thousand years. As foretold by the prophet Ezekiel.

Stan was being aided in his endeavors by the members of the Third Temple Movement: Jews who fervently believed in the prophecies foretold by Ezekiel, certain that out of the ashes of the great Battle of Gog and Magog, a new Messiah would step forth.

Although some Christians condemned the Jews, accusing them of having killed the Savior, he knew that Jesus had himself been a Jew. As had been his parents. And all his forebears. Each and every member of the first Church had been a Jew. The Jews were the Chosen People, the custodians of the First and Second Temples, the original guardians of the Ark of the Covenant. And in the great battle to come, the Jews would prevail, fulfilling the destiny envisioned for them by Ezekiel.

Hearing a high-pitched chime emanate from his laptop computer, Stan lowered the night-vision goggles and walked back to the camp table.

Praise be. The much-anticipated e-mail from his comrades at the Third Temple Movement.

Seating himself in front of the laptop, he quickly pulled up the missive.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, examining the architectural blueprint that had been forwarded to him. “Absolutely beautiful.”

The construction plans for the Third Temple.

Based on the precise description given by the prophet Ezekiel—cubits having been converted to feet and inches—the temple would be constructed on the same parcel of sacred land where the First and Second Temples once stood. When completed, it would rival the beauty of even Solomon’s fabled marvel.

Only two more days.

Two days until Eid al-Adha. The Muslim Day of Sacrifice. The day when two million Muslims would be gathered at Mecca. And when those two million infidels learned that the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem had been destroyed, they would go on a violent and bloody rampage. That rampage would incite them to take up arms against Christians and Jews. To become the fierce and bloodthirsty army of Gog. As foretold by the prophet Ezekiel.

A battle between Good and Evil would ensue.

But this time the crusaders will be victorious.

With the destruction of the gaudy and heathenish Dome of the Rock, the beloved Children of God would finally be delivered from the Islamic tyranny, the gold-plated shrine having been built over the exact site where Solomon’s Temple once stood. For the first time in eight hundred years, God’s sacred parcel, the Temple Mount, would again be a place of holy worship.

Obliterating the Dome of the Rock from the Jerusalem skyline had been planned to the last detail; the Muslims had actually simplified the mission op. For years now the Islamic Trust, the supposed caretakers of the Temple Mount, had turned a blind eye to the six-hundred-foot-long bulge in the southern wall. Given its present condition, the ancient foundation wall was already in a severely weakened state. With the insertion of a few carefully placed IEDs, the wall would come tumblin’ down, bringing with it the newly built al-Marwani mosque that had been constructed on the southern end of the Temple Mount. In the ensuing chaos, his demolition experts would then be able to set a ring of high-powered explosives around the exterior perimeter of the closely guarded Dome of the Rock.

The old bait and switch.

The infidels would never know what hit them.

With the second explosion, the path would literally be cleared for the construction of the Third Temple.

Only then could the Ark of the Covenant be returned to its anointed place within the Holy of Holies. Only then could the Ark become the vehicle through which heaven and earth become one. And only then could a new covenant be made between man and God, paving the way for a holy kingdom that would prosper for a thousand years. A true theocracy where nonbelievers would be judged swiftly and harshly. One Christian nation under God.

“Sir, the sentries just made their rounds and have given the all clear.”

Stan glanced at his gunnery sergeant, who stood in the doorway. The sitrep did little to allay his fears. So far, the lanky Englishman had proven a worthy adversary, somehow managing to kill two of his best men. Though he was certain that Aisquith had no way of knowing the Ark had been brought to Malta, he couldn’t forget that the man had done what many before him had tried and failed to do—he’d found the Ark of the Covenant.

“Keep me posted.”

Snatching the night-vision goggles, Stan walked over to the window. Elbows braced on the limestone sill, he returned his gaze to the sea.

One if by land, two if by sea.

He chuckled, amused by the thought. Like the founding fathers, he, too, was about to launch a revolution. One of biblical proportions.