Destiny

FORTY-NINE

Paul Marcus stood near the Western Wall, the sound of people praying in the background. His mind replayed the conversations he’d had with Bahir about Solomon’s Temple, its size, and its possible location. He watched Jewish men pray at the face of the wall in a separate area from the women. A fence divided them. Some of the women stood on plastic chairs in order to see over the fence where their husbands and sons prayed. Marcus saw a teenage Jewish boy write on a small slip of paper, whisper a request, and place the paper in a crack between the old stones.

Marcus moved on, strolling through the tide of worshipers, tourists and spiritual pilgrims. They were seeking the touch of a stone wall, the splash of water from an ancient cistern, the scent of anointment oils, the physical cornerstones to harden and set with their internal cathedrals of faith often flawed with hairline cracks.

Marcus glanced up at the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque near it. He discretely observed the Muslims, Christians, and Jews all walking the same streets, together, in a city of contradictions and denial, its borders drawn in the heated sands of conviction. The four quarters of the Old City were communities on the edge, alienated by suspicion and hypothesis. Synagogues, mosques, and churches stood on a two-thousand-year-old stage of non-scripted drama, playing to a world audience where everyone in the house was a critic. Marcus could smell sun block lotion, sweat and cigarette smoke on the clothes of the people he passed. He brushed by a man who stared at him a second too long.

“Paul Marcus.”

Marcus turned around. The man was short, balding, early sixties, face heavily lined, dark glasses and wearing a polo shirt outside his khaki Bermuda shorts. He wore sandals. “I’m actually a friend of Jacob Kogen. There’s a nice café a few meters to the west. Please, let me buy you a coffee. I’d like to discuss something with you.”

“Who are you?”

“I sincerely appreciate the information you delivered about a possible assassination attack on the prime minister. I’m thankful to God that no such attack was made. My name is Nathan Levy. I work for the Israeli government.” The director of the Mossad smiled.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Please, let’s sit where it’s quiet. As much as I love the old wall, the prayers can become way too loud when many people are here.”

Marcus nodded and followed the man to the café. They went inside and took a seat in the far corner, Levy’s back to the wall. They ordered coffees and Levy said, “I speak for Jacob and all of Israel, really, when I say we are most appreciative of your efforts to decode the mysteries of the Bible.”

“It’s not me. It’s the vast knowledge Isaac Newton had of the Bible, the people — all the tribes, events and languages. I’m just trying to sort through the cards in the deck.”

“It appears that you are making remarkable strides, as you did to receive the Nobel Prize honor, too.”

Marcus said nothing, waiting for Levy to tell him what he wanted.

“May I call you Paul?”

“Yes.”

“Please, call me Nathan. I imagine that a man of your intellect could do almost anything he engaged his mind to do. You have certainly proven that. In all my years, if there’s one thing that I’ve found to be a constant is that intellect alone is like a boat on top of the water. The engine, the thing that propels a person is the drive — often the entrepreneurial shrewdness required to lessen the drag that can cling to a vessel. Your code breaking effort in medicine is a colossal example of that drive, that quality.”

A customer entered the small café and ordered from the counter. Levy sipped his coffee. “Why are we here?” Marcus asked.

“An old friend of mine, Andy Jenkins, was once stationed in Tel Aviv by your government for almost two decades. I was hoping he would eventually retire here. However, his last three years were in Saudi Arabia before retiring in Washington. We often sat in this café, at this very table, and talked about the world in which we live. Andy was injured in a car crash near the West Bank. For years after, he still walked with a limp. He understood the emotional state of the Middle East, and he identified with the soul of Israel. Our tiny nation is and always will be a target. For centuries, we were always the moving targets. But not up until now, this very time, have we ever faced possible complete annihilation as a country and potentially as a people.”

“Are you suggesting a feasible nuclear threat?”

“The Iranians are dangerously close to having nuclear bomb capabilities. Once they do, they will continue their output until they have an arsenal large enough to rein terror, not just on Israel, but the world. Because, Paul, they are not alone.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You may be the one person who can stop or greatly delay their nuclear efforts.”

“Is this why I was really brought over here, to help Israel fight Iran?”

“It’s not a fight. It is a chessboard with global consequences. Perhaps you will find a needle in the proverbial haystack with the Bible codes and that Newton matter. In the meantime, Iran, Syria, and the Hamas threats aren’t simply going to fade like smoke. What I’m about to tell you is extremely confidential. Only a handful of people know. However, in good faith, we feel that to show you our sincerity, to give you a look at the future, we need to share the past with you. Will you promise me that the information I share with you in this corner spot will go no further than this table? If it does, we will soon know it.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear it, but my answer is yes.”

“Good.” Levy smiled, glanced out the window toward the Western Wall and turned back to Marcus. “You’d questioned Jacob about the killing of the Syrian, Abdul Hannan. He was removed because he was an agent for Iran, and the information he was about to deliver from North Korea’s nuclear operation would have greatly advanced the Iranian nuclear bomb effort.”

“Look, Nathan, I’m not a covert field operative. I’m a scientist, not—”

“You are the best in the world at encryption. Maybe in your decoding of the Bible you came across the story of Esther. The Old Testament story tells the tale of how the Persians developed a plot to destroy the Jews. Queen Esther prevented it. Her birth name was Hadassah, which means myrtle in Hebrew. The myrtle flower is as much a part of Israel as the Sea of Galilee. The ongoing code name for Israel’s defense against a nuclear attack is Myrtus. The worm we are using, Myrtus, is unique to Windows; and we believe it will include the capacity to reprogram the brain, the programmable logic control boards in the computers controlling Iran’s nuclear research. We believe Myrtus can be programmed to disguise, hide and bury the changes so they are not found. However, we could greatly use your help with the encoding. You’d be working with some of the very brightest people in the world. It seems the kind of challenge a scientist of your intellect would love to undertake. You would be very well compensated for the rest of your life. We’ve reached a point, a tipping point, where we need expertise like yours to add features to the worm we know needs to be in place.”

“Look, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but no thanks. That’s not the reason I’m here.”

“Yes it is.”

Marcus was silent for a second. “So it’s all been a deception. You bring me over here under the pretense of decoding Isaac Newton’s papers, and all along you really wanted me to code a cyber-attack against your enemy? To hell with that!”

“Look, Paul, Bible codes and all that Isaac Newton material are like the Dead Sea Scrolls — dead. It’s ancient history. I’m talking about the immediate and the future, the future of Israel and perhaps many more nations. Your time would be better served if—”

“If what! I may have been deceived in the reason I’m here, maybe you forged my name in Newton’s papers…but by default I’ve found something greater than a cyber-attack. By the way, the Book if Esther is the only one not found in the Dead Sea Scrolls. I’m not interested in your proposal.”

Levy wrote a number down on a business card that was blank. “Here, take this. It is a private number. I’m the only one who will answer it. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I can’t help you.” Marcus stood to leave.

“You know, at one time the Persians developed a plot to destroy the Jews. What plot could destroy Israel or perhaps even America? Esther never revealed she was Jewish. Does that sounds like you, Paul? Perhaps you will do as she did and rise up to stop this threat before its deadly consequences are known.”