Destiny

TWENTY-EIGHT

“This is fine American coffee with a touch of Middle Eastern flavor,” said Bahir, delivering a cup of steaming coffee to the table and proudly setting it in front of Marcus. “Please, try it.” He gestured with a slight bow at the waist.

Marcus sipped the hot drink. “It’s good, thanks.” He looked at the screen where the data concerning his wife and daughter loaded and fully assimilated. Nothing. Nothing but jumble. He blew air out of his cheeks, ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the newspaper article about the election of the Israeli prime minister. He keyed in the prime minister’s name, age, and locations the article said he would be appearing in Israel. Then he watched the screen.

Bahir grinned, a gold cap visible behind his left eyetooth. “You are not pleased with your computer, yes?”

“It’s not the damn machine. It’s the data or lack of it that doesn’t produce results. It’s sort of a Russian roulette or spin of the wheel.”

Bahir grunted. “I am a man of my word, this will be the first of many coffee cups I fill for you. In my shop, your cup will always runneth over. You were my guardian angel, and it is something I will cherish until the end of my days. If you cannot be very bored by the conversation, musings of an old man — one who grew up here in the streets of Jerusalem, I would be delighted to share that with you as well.”

Marcus sipped the coffee. “That sounds like a fine trade to me. Just give me a few minutes. I’m sort of in the middle of something and—”

“Ah, yes, yes. No problem. You are working. Your computer is a window, perhaps a little unclear and you are searching for a good view.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Bahir chuckled. “The computer is smart, but is it wise? Would Solomon have used this electronic brain to solve the challenges, the riddles of his time? I think not. He could compute the honor of a man in one look. It was a gift from God, the same God who allowed Solomon to live in his temple while here on earth. The temple that was above in heaven, planned by the hand of God and built below paradise, less than one hundred meters from where you sit.”

“Not much of it’s left.”

“Perhaps. At least not to the eye.”

“What do you mean?”

Bahir grinned, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “What does your computer tell you? Does it think?”

Marcus shook his head. “It’s only as good as the information it receives.”

“Information can come like tracks in the sand — some are easier to see than others, especially after the wind blows. You are a good man, Paul Marcus. Very few people would do what you did when you stopped the man who held a knife to my throat. I feel that there is a larger reason your journey has led you back here.”

“Back? I’ve never been to Israel before this trip.”

Bahir shrugged. “Perhaps. It is only a figure of speech.”

“I’m only here because I’m researching the Bible.”

“What do you hope to discover?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you want to discover, what is your desire?”

“Something that’s very personal to me.”

“Most who come here have studied the Bible or the Koran. Is there somewhere in Jerusalem you care to see based upon your research?”

Marcus looked at the laptop screen. He sat closer in his chair, his eyes scanning the words. He said nothing.

“What is it you see?”

“I’m not sure. It reads that ‘on the tenth, an assassin will fire upon the prime minister in the plot of the weeping angel.’” Marcus cut his eyes to Bahir. “Where’s the plot of the weeping angel?”

“I have seen many tearful angels. They have been in gardens all over the world.”

“Maybe this one’s a little closer to home, right here in Jerusalem. I need to make a phone call.”

“Of course.” Bahir walked to the coffee bar and greeted a customer who came through the door.

Marcus dialed Jacob on his cell. “Jacob, I’ve been digging deeper, much deeper into the Newton notes. I believe Newton did have a line on how to tap the Bible for a look into the future.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have reason to believe the prime minister of Israel is going to be assassinated.”

“What?”

“The prime minister!”

“When? How?”

“Maybe the tenth. I have no idea how. There’s a vague reference to it in decryption I unpeeled after taking some words from a newspaper story about the prime minister and then transposing them with similar wordage I found between Daniel, John and Revelation.”

“What did it reveal?”

“Here’s what it disclosed, ‘on the tenth, an assassin will fire upon the prime minister in the plot of the weeping angel…’”

Jacob said nothing for a few seconds. “The tenth? This month? Where is this plot of the weeping angel?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s all it says?”

“Yes.”

“Paul, if you feel there is great legitimacy to this…this prophecy, I will make calls immediately. The authorities must be alerted. Wait a minute, you said the tenth, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I heard a radio report on the way to work. It indicated the prime minister is in Washington on Tuesday. That’s the tenth! He’ll be meeting with your president.”