Destiny

SIXTY-THREE

Marcus left the café, caught a taxi and arrived at the Hotel de Crillon on Place de la Concorde. He entered the lobby and walked across the imported, honey-colored marble floor, which reflected light and glass from the opulent chandeliers. Before approaching the concierge’s desk, he glanced at the plasma monitor listing hotel events. An attractive young woman, whose nametag read Dominique, sat at the desk. “Dominique, I’m running late for Secretary of State Hanover’s dinner. Is it in the Batailles Room?”

She smiled, her eyes dazzling, bouncing light from the chandelier above her station. “No sir. That dinner is being held in the Marie-Antoinette Room on the second floor.”

“Thank you.”

Marcus took an elevator to the second floor. When the elevator doors opened, he could feel the hushed, efficient orchestration of a restricted, invitation-only dinner party. Guests, holding cocktail glasses, chatted in semi-circles while waiters in tuxedos delivered champagne and hors d’oeuvres. There was the smell of garlic, steamed crab and money in the air. Men in dark suits and short haircuts roamed the halls. Hotel security manned a metal detector leading to the Marie-Antoinette Room. Security agents checked ID’s while the crowd filed into the dining room. Marcus weaved his way through the guests and then stopped beneath a massive crystal chandelier to the far right of the entryway. He stood away from the throng, watched and waited.

When the last few late arrivals were ushered into the room, Secretary of State Hanover’s entourage arrived, and she was in the center flanked by assistants and bodyguards.

“Secretary Hanover!” shouted Marcus, lifting his arm. Two members of her security team were quickly in front of Marcus.

Secretary Hanover stopped and turned toward him. She smiled and walked over to Marcus. “It’s okay, gentlemen. This is Paul Marcus, the Nobel Laureate in medicine. It’s good to see you, Paul. Last we spoke you were in Jerusalem. What brings you to Paris?”

“Secretary Hanover, may I speak to you in private?”

“I’m sorry, but Secretary Hanover is already late for the dinner,” interrupted her assistant, Jennifer Greene. She was tall, thin lips, and a sharp nose that supported black-framed glasses. She held an iPhone and an iPad like weapons.

“It’s okay, Jennifer. Paul, I have a couple of minutes. Let’s step over there.” They walked a few feet away from the group. “I’m hoping you have good news and you’ve decided to attend the Nobel proceedings with the president.”

“Secretary Hanover—”

“Paul, I told you to call me Merriam.”

“Merriam, I have reason to believe that there will be an assassination attempt on the prime minister during Thursday’s ceremonies at the Yitzhak Rabin Memorial.”

Her eyes opened a little more and she tilted her head. “What have you heard and where’d you hear it?”

“I haven’t heard anything. I found something. I found it buried in biblical texts, information that indicates a possible plot to kill the prime minister.”

“Paul, I don’t want to seem like you’re shouting wolf, but this is the second time you’ve approached me about a potential threat to the prime minister’s life. Our intelligence found no indication, not the slightest evidence that anything was there during the Lincoln Memorial ceremony. I assure you, security will be heavy at the Rabin Memorial, too.”

“I’m not shouting wolf. Maybe I’m wrong again. But if something happened and I made no effort to warn anyone, I’d have a hard time with that.”

“I understand. It’s not unlike security in the world’s airports — better safe than sorry. I need to go make a speech. I hope to see you in Stockholm.” She turned to leave.

“Has any progress been made on getting Iran to release Brandi Hirsh and Adam Spencer?”

“We haven’t forgotten them. However, I’ll be frank with you, Paul. The talks have stalled. We’ve done all we can. I’m hopeful there will be more international pressure for their release, but the Iranians have waged a nasty campaign to convince people that the two Americans are spies. Those allegations are so farfetched it’s incredulous. Iran wants to play hard ball.”

“Maybe we can throw a perfect game.”

“What do you mean?”

Jennifer Greene, iPad wedged beneath one arm, thumbs punching the keys on her phone, approached. “Excuse me, Secretary Hanover, Ambassador Bertrand is waiting to introduce you to his guests.”

She nodded and said to Marcus, “I’m sorry, but duty calls.”

“Can you get a security clearance for me at the Rabin ceremony?”

“Of course. I’ll make sure of it.”

She turned to walk to the regal dining room. Marcus said, “Tell the president I’ll be in Stockholm with him.”

Secretary Hanover looked back over her shoulder and smiled. “Thank you, Paul.”

“At the Rabin Memorial — be careful and be very aware of your surroundings.”

Marcus registered at the Paris Eiffel Cambronne Hotel. He unlocked the door to his room, and then set his laptop and small suitcase on the bed just as his phone rang. Jacob Kogen said, “Paul, out of hundreds of European cathedrals, you have found the one that is the closest match possible in size, scope and engineering to what we know of Solomon’s Temple.”

“In what way?”

“It was built with the same measurement, the same sacred geometry used in the building of Solomon’s Temple. The Chartres Cathedral is without a doubt one of the most amazing structures on earth, and it looks like it is probably near the exact size as Solomon’s Temple. The interior layout of Chartres is the shape of a large cross, and the massive roof is built like a horizontal cross. The cathedral is equivalent to a stone and glass book of the Bible. Much of the entire Bible, from creation to the final days, is told within the cathedral’s portals, and found on the most remarkable stained glass images ever created by man. Not only is their beauty world renowned, but also the colors have never been duplicated. The glass is said to have qualities that transmute or change sunlight, removing ultra violet and allowing the interior of the church to glow from a warmer spectrum of light. The Blue Virgin window is believed to be the best example of stained glass art in any cathedral. Here’s something very interesting, Paul. Pilgrims entering the church often say they feel as if the combination of light, images in the glass, the biblical icons of Creation and the Last Judgment, give them an experience never found in any other building on earth.”

“What do you mean?”

“They say it’s like some form of spiritual baptism, and many are profoundly changed just by entering the building and staying a while.”

“I read that it houses a tunic worn by Mary, mother of Jesus.”

“That article of clothing was actually given to Chartres Cathedral by Charles the Bald, the grandson of Charlemagne who had the tunic in his possession.”

Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, the words of Bahir ricocheting in his mind. ‘Charlemagne is said to have carried the spear through forty-five victorious battles, but died not long after he, by chance, dropped it from his horse. It is said that whoever has possession of this lance is near unconquerable.’

“Paul, are you there?”

“Yes. Did you find out anything about light from the summer solstice entering the cathedral?”

“Yes, during two minutes of the equinox, a long, narrow sunbeam strikes an iron nail in the only rectangle stone laid within the thousands of other stones in the floor. No one alive knows the significance of it. An architect, whose identity was kept secret, designed the cathedral. It’s believed that the Knights Templar had it built.”

“What can you find out about the labyrinth in the sanctuary?”

“It’s a big mystery, too. The number of steps to the center is 270. The center looks like a flower with six petals. Something else I believe you will find very intriguing.”

“What’s that?”

“Chartres Cathedral was the site of the School of Chartres. It was like none other in Europe.”

“How?”

“It attracted the brightest students from the four corners of Europe who wanted to study the spiritual sciences. The short of it is that the teachers combined a Platonic philosophy within scriptures found in the Bible. They applied reason to faith to find a ground between the simple acceptance of what God had revealed and…well…”

“What are you saying, Jacob?”

“Let’s put it this way, the School of Chartres, was probably the closest place on earth during the Middle Ages where the goal — the curriculum, was to learn, understand and possibly attain absolute knowledge. Is this the thread Isaac Newton was searching for? Can it be found hidden in the mortar of Chartres Cathedral?