Destiny

SIXTY-TWO

The Parisian sky swirled with slate colored clouds chasing each other, the hint of sun squeezing through the grey and resembling a dying white ember on charcoal. It was late in the afternoon when Marcus walked inside the Cafe Le Flore, a small restaurant facing the Seine. The river reflected the grey mood of the clouds, the city soaking in a bath of pewter twilight.

Marcus’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered and Gisele Fournier said, “Paul, I’m home. I wanted to let you know that I called the police and spoke with Inspector Victor Roux. He asked me where I got my information, and I wasn’t sure what to tell him.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him that an extremely reliable source told me, and I felt a duty to call the police. When he asked to meet with me…I just disconnected the phone.”

“Thank you for making the call.”

“It is no problem. Do you really think the prime minister is in danger?”

“Yes.”

“This must come from my grandfather’s papers, the Isaac Newton papers and the Bible. Maybe this is some of what my grandfather saw. What brought real terror to his eyes was the divination of nuclear war. What do you do next?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this in my life. Gisele, the Chartres Cathedral…can you remember anything more about it?”

“Yes, years ago. It was summer, the longest day of the summer. I remember it well because of something my grandfather showed me.”

“What was that?”

“He took my brother and me to the old cathedral during the Summer Solstice. I remember that the sun was in a unique position in the sky to shine though the dark of the stained glass window called Saint Apollonaire. The sun made the window really stand out, and it was so beautiful. There is one tiny portion through the dark glass where the sunray came in at a perfect angle to strike a stone in the floor. The light hit a nail in the center of the only rectangle stone on the floor. Grandfather said he heard the nail was one that entered the hand of Jesus. Paul, I have to go now. I’m joining my aunt and brother at our small cottage between Boulogne and Calais. Please let me know if you need anything more.”

Marcus ordered French espresso coffee and a croissant. He looked across the Seine at Notre Dame. His thoughts bounced from the Rabin Memorial ceremonies to be held near the Garden of Peace to the information Gisele told him about the Chartres Cathedral. I remember going there as a little girl and counting the steps to the center of the labyrinth. I recall it was two hundred and seventy steps to the center.

He opened his laptop, scanning information about the Chartres Cathedral. Marcus quickly learned that many people considered the cathedral itself as a holy shrine, a tribute to the Virgin Mary. What could a reference to two hundred seventy steps mean, if anything? It’s the number of days the average baby is in the womb. Is the cathedral a stone and glass womb on earth? What’s inside it? What’s to be released…to be born? Maybe nothing. He looked at the pictures of the ancient church, the twin spires, one was 365 feet high, and the second was shorter at 349 feet. He found the elevation and dimensions of the church. Then he emailed the information to Jacob Kogen and added: see how close in size Chartres Cathedral is to what we think Solomon’s Temple was….

Marcus thought about the lone olive tree centered in the steel sculpture near the Garden of Peace. He quickly found a front-page story in the Parisian newspaper, Le Figero, about the Israeli prime minister’s visit to Paris. There was a picture of the prime minister and the French president. Marcus converted the story to English and read the details of the visit and ceremonies at the Rabin Memorial. The event, expected to last thirty minutes, would open with remarks by the mayor of Paris before his introduction of the prime minister. The story indicated that American Secretary of State, Merriam Hanover, would be attending the ceremonies, too. She was staying at the Hotel de Crillon and flying to Egypt after her stop in Paris.

Marcus made a call to her mobile phone. The Secretary’s assistant answered. Marcus said, “Secretary Hanover asked me to stay in touch with her. I know she’s here in Paris. Something has come up that she should know about. I need to meet with her today.”

“Mr. Marcus, we just got in from de Gaulle. Secretary Hanover’s afternoon is fully booked with meetings through dinner. She can’t meet with you—”

“Please, put her on the line.”

“I’m sorry. But that’s not possible.” The woman ended the call.

Marcus set his phone on the table. He looked through his computer bag and found Taheera’s phone. He held it for a moment, his eyes focused on the last number dialed. His cell rang. He set the dead woman’s phone down and picked up his mobile. “Paul Marcus, this is Nathan Levy. Jacob Kogen said that you were concerned there will be an attempt on the prime minister’s life in Paris.”

“I think it’s going to happen during the tenth anniversary ceremonies at the Yitzhak Rabin Memorial adjacent to the Garden of Peace at the UNESCO headquarters.”

“Is this information drawn from the same source that indicated the prime minister’s life was in danger when he made an appearance with your president at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington?”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t a credible source. What makes you think anything has changed?”

“The information better fits. The time and location of the Lincoln Memorial best matched the given parameters at that instance. Now, with the tenth anniversary of the Rabin Memorial to be commemorated in Paris, the other clues, such as the weeping angel, are more obvious. The Nagasaki Angel, the only piece of a church that wasn’t vaporized during the bombing of Nagasaki, is in the park.”

“We will have more than adequate security. Paul, your decryption talents are, no doubt, without equal. Let us hope, however, the information you are receiving from your sources, the Bible and writings of Isaac Newton, are inaccurate. The time you are placing in decrypting ancient codes and writings could be, in my opinion, better served with the challenges of the present and future. Have you reconsidered my offer?”

“That’s not what I came to the Middle East to do.”

“But yet you have become the prophet of doom, the early warning of impending assassinations that do not materialize. You are wasting your time. Jacob Kogen is a man looking for signs from God when, in fact, evil is constantly rearing its ugly head. These ancient texts are hieroglyphics that have no bearing whatsoever on today’s complex issues. I trust you can understand that.”

“A lot of today’s complex issues are really pretty simple and have been the same for two thousand years. All that’s changed is the choice of weapons.”

“How long will you be in Paris?”

“I didn’t say I was in Paris.”

“I assumed as much because you told me about the statue of the angel. I was aware of the Rabin Memorial. Paul, please don’t take advantage of our hospitality and stray into other pastures. Our team is very good — so good, in fact, I’m told we can look for cyber fingerprints, or coding techniques unique to the author. Since you are only one of a handful of authors capable of such coding, I trust you have no illusions about what I’m saying.”

“Before you threaten me again, you’d better take seriously the information I just delivered to you. Levy, you want me working for you, right?”

“I am listening.”

“You find the bastard who killed my wife and daughter. He’s an Iranian agent.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because the other agent sent to kill me, Taheera, had no reason to lie when she was about to shoot me in the head. She told me an agent killed my wife and daughter, and then left me for dead because they didn’t want me recruited by Israel. Now, if you want me to damage the Iranian nuke operation, you kill the son-of-bitch that destroyed my life.”