Destiny

THIRTY-FIVE

Marcus left the university in his rental car and drove through Jerusalem en route to the Old City, his mind calculating time zones and the possibility that time references could be a plant, a Trojan, to throw off a potential hacker. He looked at his watch, and made a call to Alicia Quincy’s cell phone. “Has the ceremony at the Lincoln Memorial been cancelled?”

“Not yet. I don’t know that it will be. I spoke with Bill Gray. He didn’t exactly dismiss it, but he didn’t see a lot of weight considering the fact you found it decoding Bible verses. You know Bill. For him, it’s getting measurable, quantifiable data. It’s always about intel information that comes from people and their political agendas, that sort of thing.”

“Is he there now?”

“I’ll check. Paul, what the hell’s going on?

“I ran reverse coding from a hacker. The hacker sent in a Trojan, I baited it, and caught him on the return trip.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what you found.”

“Because of the time reference, I suspect it’s from a geographical source not too far from me. Can you run an IP trace on a secure Internet line?”

“You know that all NSA’s lines are secure.”

“They’re secure from the outside. They’re vulnerable from the inside.”

“Where are you going with this, Paul?”

“If someone here in the Middle East is interested in my research, who is it and why? If it’s someone else, who are they and where are they?”

“Have you found more than what you shared with me?”

“I could be on some kind of wild goose chase. The numbers don’t lie. But, because I’m transferring them from Hebrew to English, I don’t know if the letters and numbers I’m corresponding with are accurate. I don’t know if these jigsaw puzzle pieces left by Isaac Newton and a dozen long-dead prophets are real or…”

“Or what?”

“Part of some bigger picture that may not be measurable by any scale we know. Whatever it is, apparently, this has caught the attention of people who believe I might find something, or that I might reveal some secret.”

“Be careful.”

“I don’t know who I can trust.”

“You can trust me. I have a lot of unused vacation time, and I’ve always wanted to visit the Holy Land. Maybe I can come there and help you with this.”

Marcus said nothing for a moment. He stopped and waited for a group of tourists to cross the street at a traffic light.

“Paul, are you there? Sounds like your phone’s fading. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.”

“Did I say something I shouldn’t have said?”

“No, no. I was just thinking…thinking about why I’m over here.”

“You said it was by invitation from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Didn’t you want to prove it isn’t your name in Newton’s notes on the Bible?”

“That’s part of it.”

“What’s the other part?”

“It’s complicated. At least I think it is.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not now.” Marcus drove, heading for Jaffa Gate. Out of the passenger window, he watched two black helicopters fly above the Judean Mountains. “I need to go.”

“I understand. But I’m a damn good listener. Since you’re overseas, you may not have seen the article in today’s New York Times. It was about you.”

“What did it say?”

“It’s a story about the Nobel Prizes and how you were the only one MIA, still not officially on the roster to accept the prize. The reporter wrote that she’d tried to contact you for a comment, but friends and neighbors had no idea where you were. I guess it’s hard to vanish off the radar when you’re supposed to be a Nobel Prize laureate. Are you still planning not to accept the prize?”

“That’s the plan.”

“The story went on to say that your absence would be the proverbial fly in the ointment as an embarrassment for the president in his winning the Peace Prize.”

“I’m sure the president will do just fine.”

“You told me something earlier that doesn’t align with your decision.”

“What’s that?”

“You said Isaac Newton wrote that a Paul Marcus is awarded a noble medal for healing.”

Marcus said nothing.

“Is awarded, that seems to mean you not only won it, but you accepted it too. Did Newton know, or see something you haven’t?”

Marcus felt the muscles in his shoulders knot. “Did you find Bill Gray?”

“Hold on, I think he’s in the director’s office.”

“Interrupt them. Put Gray on the damn phone.”

“Paul, I can’t barge in there and tell him you’re demanding to talk with him.”

“Sure you can if you tell him the president’s life is in danger.”

Alicia released a long, slow breath. “Oh, boy. Okay, hold on.”

Marcus drove through traffic, winding around sightseeing buses and taxis trolling for tourists. In thirty seconds, Bill Gray’s voice came on the phone. “Paul, how’s the president’s life in danger?”

Marcus knew he was on speakerphone and his conversation was being recorded. “If the president’s standing next to the prime minister tomorrow when the wreath is set in front of the Lincoln Memorial, he could be in the line of fire. If there’s an attempt on the prime minister’s life, there could be one on the president’s, too. Or the president may be hurt or killed by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Pentagon calls it collateral damage.”

Gray cleared his throat. “Paul, listen to me. This is really wild speculation based on the information you provided Alicia. We’re taking appropriate action to spend more of the taxpayer’s money to add additional precautions.”

“Bill, save the money and cancel the damn ceremony…or, at the very least, back the prime minister out of it.”

“Paul, this is Les Shepard.” The director’s voice was deep, almost guttural. “I never personally had a chance to offer my condolences for the loss of your wife and child. I can only imagine the stress you must have been under, combined by winning the Nobel Prize, almost by fluke. Your world goes from one extreme to the other — polar opposites. It’s enough to make a man bi-polar, if you’ll excuse the pun. The White House is not going to cancel the ceremony on the basis of some disclosure you stumbled upon in the Bible. It has no real connection to the prime minister or the ceremony to take place tomorrow. We do appreciate your concern, though. Maybe it’s time you pack your bags in Jerusalem, come back home and get some much needed rest.”

“So you’re ignoring this?”

“No, we’re deciding not to overreact to it. Now, I have a meeting to conduct. Paul, I hope you won’t discount my suggestion to come back home and get some rest.”

The line disconnected. Marcus held the cell phone to his ear, his mind racing. He pulled over, parked on the side of the road near Jaffe gate, opened his wallet and found the card Secretary of State Hanover had given him. He turned it over, memorized her private number and made the call.