Helios

FIFTY-THREE

As relieved as he was to know that the Ark was within reach, Pierce couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. The Ark had been found, but not by him.

After the somewhat disappointing discovery in the secret Masonic hall under Temple Church, he and the others had retired to a hotel room. Showers and soft beds provided some much-needed physical refreshment, but the mystery of what had become of the Ark weighed on Pierce’s mind, keeping him awake well into the wee hours of the morning. He had barely drifted off to sleep when Dourado had called to deliver the news.

“They found it! Dr. Carter and Mr. Lazarus found the Ark in Ethiopia!”

His first impulse had been to question the bold claim. How did they know it wasn’t a replica? But during the subsequent conference call, Carter answered all questions and removed all doubts.

Ethiopia.

Pierce shook his head. He had been right to question the story recorded in the Ethiopian Kebra Nagast, but wrong to dismiss the many centuries worth of tradition that supported the broader claim that the Ark was there.

Nothing to do about it now. The ship had sailed. The Ark had been found, and his chance to be Indiana Jones had slipped through his fingers. Now it was time to get down to the business of saving the world.

After a quick breakfast, they met with Clive Chillingsworth at the London Masonic Hall, this time entering by the front door in Great Queen Street, just half a mile from Temple Church. The original plan had been to scour the secret archives relating to the Templars’ discovery of the Tabernacle and root out a clue that would reveal the Ark’s true location. With that matter resolved, he turned his attention to the subject of how best to use the Ark to shut down the Black Knight.

“Sir Isaac foresaw this,” Chillingsworth said, after overcoming his initial shock at the revelation of the Ark’s discovery. “Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he recognized the truth that others foresaw many centuries before.”

“You think this is the End of Days foretold in the Bible?” Gallo asked, without a hint of irony.

“It would be irresponsible to ignore the many parallels,” Chillingsworth said. “Earthquakes. Signs in the heavens. And the Ark…we mustn’t forget that. The prophecies indicate the Ark will be found and returned to Jerusalem just before the End of Days. Sir Isaac believed that as well.”

“You also said he predicted the End no sooner than 2060,” Pierce countered.

“Maybe what he meant to say is that we can buy ourselves another forty years if we get this right,” Fiona suggested.

Chillingsworth nodded. “It may be that the prophecies were not pronouncements of doom, but instructions about how to avert this catastrophe.”

“Instructions,” Pierce murmured. “Hidden in ancient prophecies.”

He glanced over at Fiona, recalling her vision of Raven stealing the sun and moon. He didn’t believe in prophecies. Maybe the Originators were time travelers, or existed outside of the limitations of space-time…which he had to admit, smacked of the supernatural.

“So it’s not enough to have the Ark?” Fiona went on. “Now we have to get it to Jerusalem?”

“Specifically, the Temple Mount. Based on Sir Isaac’s calculations, that is where it should reach peak efficiency. And I’m afraid the Ark alone isn’t enough. It must be contained within a structure designed to amplify…or perhaps contain its power.”

“The Tabernacle,” Pierce said.

Chillingsworth inclined his head in a nod.

Pierce let out a sigh. “So all we have to do is get the Ark and the Tabernacle into Jerusalem under the noses of the Israelis, and then set them up on the doorstep of the Dome of the Rock. Easy.”

He did not need to explain the reason for his frustration.

The Temple Mount was sacred to all three great monotheistic religions. In addition to being the location of Solomon’s Temple, it was also believed to be the site where Abraham went to offer up his son Isaac as a sacrifice, an act that God prevented. But the incident nonetheless sealed a divine covenant with the descendants of Abraham — Jews and Arabs alike. It was also believed to be the place where Muhammad ascended into heaven, an event that was commemorated with the construction of the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa mosque. After the Kabbah in Mecca, they were the oldest and most revered Islamic structures in existence. Although the site was under their authority, the Israeli government had honored the long-standing Muslim presence, but many in all three faiths believed that one day, a new Jewish Temple would be built on the spot, an action that would serve as the catalyst for the final great battle.

Some people were actually looking forward to it.

Erecting the Tabernacle on the Temple Mount and placing the Ark of the Covenant inside would, if it became public knowledge, ignite the thousand-year-old powder keg of religious animosity in the Holy Land. Merely the rumor that the true Ark had been found might be enough of a spark to light that fuse.

Saving the world from the Black Knight might very well plunge it into a different kind of darkness.

Maybe Chillingsworth is wrong, Pierce thought. Maybe those prophecies are a warning. Maybe taking the Ark to Jerusalem is what causes the destruction we’re trying to prevent.

Yet, if they didn’t act, Tanaka would figure out a way to use the Black Knight to destroy the planet.

“We have to find a way to do this without anyone knowing,” Pierce said. “Absolute secrecy.”

Chillingsworth offered a cryptic smile. “I told you last night, all our resources are at your disposal.”

“You’ve got a way to get the Tabernacle into Jerusalem without attracting attention?”

“I can do better than that. If you can get the Ark from Ethiopia to Israel, we’ll take care of the rest.” He smiled. “Remember, we’ve been preparing for this for three centuries.”

FIFTY-FOUR

The customs official stopped his cart in front of the open loading door, dismounted, and made his way up the ramp into the belly of the cargo plane, clipboard in hand. The plane, its passengers, and its cargo had been accorded special cultural travel privileges, under the auspices of the World Heritage Commission. They were protected by international law. The official was acting outside his jurisdiction.

Lazarus knew all too well that petty bureaucrats and over-zealous law enforcement agents could throw up any number of roadblocks if they felt they were being marginalized, no matter the actual legal status. And since their actual legal status was a house of cards built on a foundation of half-truths and forged documents, it was best not to antagonize the man.

He stepped forward to welcome him aboard.

The inspector cast a judgmental eye at Lazarus, looked past him to Carter, who still wore her netela scarf, and then scrutinized Abuna Mateos and Abba Tesfa Mariam. He glanced down at his clipboard. “I see that you are transporting a religious relic of some kind,” he said in English.

Lazarus nodded and gestured to a large parcel behind him. It was bigger than a restaurant-sized refrigerator, resting on a pallet, secured to the deck with heavy-duty, nylon cargo netting.

“What is it?” the man asked, with a hint of suspicion.

“A replica of the Ark of the Covenant. For the Orthodox Church in Jerusalem.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Really? The Ark? It’s a lot bigger than I would have expected.”

Lazarus returned a helpless shrug.

The inspector moved closer, peering through the gaps in the webbing. As he poked a probing finger through, Lazarus held his breath, dreading the moment when a jolt of electricity would strike the man dead.

“What is that? Straw?”

“Papyrus reeds,” Carter said, speaking for the first time. “Cheapest packing material available.”

That was partially true. There was no shortage of papyrus on Tana Qirqos. The reeds were so ubiquitous that the locals bundled them together into small boats and cruised around Lake Tana, like stand-up paddle boarders from another century. But the woven reeds on the cargo served another very important purpose.

Protection.

Not for the Ark, but from it.

While Lazarus and Carter had been busy working out travel arrangements with Pierce, Abba Tesfa had returned to the secret crypt, donned the protective priestly vestments, offered incense, and prayed. Then they packed the Ark with several layers of heavy wool blankets and a shroud of woven papyrus reeds.

Once Abuna Mateos explained the situation to them, the monks of Mitsele Fasiladas monastery were eager to help with the Ark’s removal and transport.

“They understand what is happening,” the bishop had told Lazarus and Carter. “They know that you intend to return the Ark to Jerusalem, just as the Bible foretold.”

“Thank God for prophecies,” Carter muttered.

Mateos just smiled.

Once the Ark was packed, the monks opened the alternate entrance to the hidden chamber, sealed behind a wall in the monastery complex, and brought the Ark out. They had carried the wrapped bundle with the same gold-layered poles that the Levite priests had once used during the time of Moses.

“Are blankets and straw going to be enough to keep us safe from that thing?” Lazarus had asked.

Carter had answered first. “Wool is an excellent insulator. It should be enough to shield us from any electromagnetic radiation.”

“We have done this before,” Mateo had assured them.

Getting out of Ethiopia with the Ark posed no great hardship. Security was lax, and the bishop’s reputation carried a lot of weight. The cover story — that the Ark was just a sacred replica — was more than plausible enough to get them on the plane.

The real challenge was logistical. It had taken two hours to procure a boat large enough to transport the wrapped Ark to shore, two more to get it to the nearest airport large enough to accommodate the cargo plane Dourado had chartered and sent to meet them, followed by a four-hour flight to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv.

Now, the customs inspector turned away, satisfied with his unauthorized inspection. “Welcome to Israel. Enjoy your stay.”

As he drove off, a white moving truck pulled forward onto the tarmac, backing up so the rear loading door was facing the cargo ramp.

A few moments later, a grinning George Pierce stepped onto the ramp. “I have to say, I’m jealous as hell.”

“I have to say, it was amazing. I had a fedora and a whip, and—” Lazarus began.

“Is that a joke?” Peirce said with a chuckle. “You joke now? Maybe the Ark really does have supernatural powers.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Carter said, coming down the ramp to join them, “it wasn’t where we thought it was going to be either.”

“The important thing is that we’ve got it,” Pierce said.

While Carter introduced Pierce to Mateos and the monk, Lazarus opened the truck, which was equipped with a hydraulic lift gate. He used a pallet jack to transfer the Ark off the plane. Once the truck was loaded, Mateos and Tesfa climbed in the back with the precious cargo, while Carter and Lazarus squeezed into the cab with Pierce. A few turns took them away from the airport and onto Highway 1, the main route connecting Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. It was late afternoon, and traffic was heavy but moving.

“Augustina and Fi are on site,” Pierce said, as they settled in for the drive. “The Tabernacle is already set up.”

“That was quick,” Lazarus remarked.

“Chillingsworth contacted a bunch of guys from the local Masonic lodge. They were eager to help. It took us three hours to take the thing down and load the truck in London. They got it back up in half an hour.”

“Do they know the whole story?” Carter asked.

Pierce shook his head. “As far as they know, it’s an elaborate reproduction that will be part of their annual consecration ceremony.”

Lazarus smiled to himself. They had used a similar deception, which like any good lie, was so much easier to swallow than the truth. If they had told the customs inspector that they were carrying the real Ark of the Covenant, the man would probably have flagged them as religious kooks.

As they continued along, Pierce peppered them with questions about their discovery on Tana Qirqos, dissecting at length the story Mateos had told them to explain how the Ark came to be in Ethiopia, and offering alternatives.

“There’s another theory that the Templars might have sent the Ark to Ethiopia for safe-keeping,” he told them. “Which, knowing what we now do, makes a lot of sense. They might have found the Ark under Mount Nebo, along with the Tabernacle, and then decided to split them up to prevent anyone from prematurely trying to fulfill the prophecy.”

Lazarus shrugged. “You should talk to Mateos.”

Pierce chuckled. “I’ll do that. I’m looking forward to it, actually.”

“You do realize we’re going to have to give it back?” Carter said.

Pierce’s smile went flat. “That’s something else we’ll have to talk about.”

“George, there’s nothing to talk about. This isn’t some forgotten relic that we discovered in a lost city. It’s theirs, and it has been for a long time. They chose to share this with us. The least we can do is respect their claim to it.”

“Like I said, we’ll have to…” Pierce’s voice trailed off as the sky went dark.

The change was so abrupt that brake lights began flashing on as other drivers reacted to something they had never before experienced.

Lazarus knew how quickly storm clouds could darken the sky, and it was nearly sundown…but this was something different. The sun had not slipped below the horizon, nor was there a cloud in the sky. He looked over at Pierce, whose grim expression confirmed what he knew.

“It’s happening.”

FIFTY-FIVE

Abdul-Ahad felt blessed. Despite his failure on Mount Sinai, Israfil had given him a second chance, entrusting him with a new, and even more important mission.

It almost made the pain bearable.

His eyes felt like they were full of sand, and nothing he could do would alleviate the sensation. At least he could still see.

It had taken him a long time to crawl down off the slopes of Mount Sinai, and despite his best efforts, he had been discovered. Fortunately, the emergency responders had mistaken him for one of the many victims of the attack. Instead of being arrested, he had been treated for his injuries. His eyesight had returned after an hour. He then slipped away into the nearby tourist village where he sent a text message to Israfil, reporting his failure. His unseen guide had praised his devotion and promised that his sacrifice would be remembered by God.

That had seemed like the end of it. He had made the decision to lie low, waiting for a chance to slip away from the active terrorism investigation. After a few hours, pain had blossomed in his eyes, as his inflamed corneas began exerting pressure against the surrounding nerves. The mere idea of trying to catch a ride back to Suez or returning to his home in Saudi Arabia, was too onerous to contemplate.

But then Israfil had sent another message, offering him a chance for redemption.

Pierce, the agent of the anti-messiah, was on his way to defile the holy city, Jerusalem. He could not be allowed to carry out his mission.

Israfil had recruited more fighters, sending some to retrieve Abdul-Ahad from Sinai, and others to keep an eye on Pierce. After hours of wallowing in despair, Abdul-Ahad was grateful to be given the chance to serve again.

Even with expertly forged travel papers supplied by Israfil, traveling in Israel was risky. But as they arrived in Jerusalem, they learned that Pierce had come to them. He was at the edge of the Old City’s Muslim Quarter, in the multi-tiered park-like environs of the Damascus Gate. The name of the district reflected a historic tradition rather than an actual cultural division, but the area surrounding Haram esh-Sharif — the Noble Sanctuary, or as the Jews and the Christians termed it, the Temple Mount — was occupied predominately by Muslims. The young Arabs and Palestinians working with Abdul-Ahad, guided by the faceless Israfil, could effortlessly blend in, disappearing among their fellow believers.

It was Pierce and his group who stuck out.

Pierce had arrived earlier, along with the two women and dozens of workmen, all of whom had descended the steps to a cave entrance in the Old Wall. They had transferred crate after crate of cargo from a moving truck. Israfil had advised them to keep watch from their post on a nearby rooftop and wait for a sign. After a couple of hours, most of the workmen departed. Pierce left in the truck, traveling alone. It was frustrating to have the target so close, literally within sight, but as always, Israfil’s wisdom was beyond question.

The sign had come, and what a sign it was.

It had come just before sunset. The man assigned to shadow Pierce had just reported that the subject of his surveillance had made a pickup at the airport and was on his way back. Abdul-Ahad had wondered if this was the reason Israfil had cautioned them to wait.

That was when the sky had gone dark with the abruptness of a sandstorm blotting out the sun. Only there was no storm. No weather at all. The sun simply disappeared from the sky, plunging the world into night.

A few seconds later, Israfil sent another message.

Abdul-Ahad’s heart soared. He passed the message along to the others and readied his weapon. “When Pierce gets here,” he told the others, “we’ll follow him into the cave and kill them all.”

They had no guns. Only Jews were permitted to buy and possess firearms in Israel, and acquiring them on the black market would have taken more time than they had. But swords and knives were easier to come by and were just as deadly. Pierce and his people did not appear to be armed.

Around them, the world was falling into madness. The air was filled with the noise of sirens and alarms, and occasional gunfire. Israfil had not been wrong. Yawm ad-Din, the Day of Judgment, preceding Yawm al-Qiyāmah, the Day of Resurrection, had arrived. In his mind’s eye, he could see the fighting all across the city — maybe all over the world — as the faithful took up arms to battle the armies of the anti-messiah.

The long promised battle for Jerusalem was beginning.

From the midst of the tumult, the moving truck arrived, its tires shrieking on the pavement, as it skidded to a stop in front of the cave entrance.

Abdul-Ahad gripped the hilt of his long knife with one hand, and raised the other, cautioning his men to hold off a few moments longer. It would take all of three minutes for them to leave their position, but once Pierce was in that cave, he would be trapped. There were no other exits. They could afford to wait a little longer.

The doors on both sides of the truck opened. Pierce was not alone.

More agents of Masih ad-Dajjal.

Two other people — a large man with dark skin and a black woman — got out of the cab with Pierce. The big man would be trouble, but the others would die quickly. Two more black men — definitely Africans — wearing the garb of Orthodox or perhaps Coptic Christian priests, got out of the back. Both were old and decrepit and would put up little, if any, fight. Abdul-Ahad had no reservations about killing Christian priests, either.

Pierce and the others unloaded a bulky parcel from the truck. Distributing its weight between them like pallbearers at a funeral, they headed into the cave.

A minute passed, and Abdul-Ahad was just about to give the order to move out when two more vehicles — a sedan and another large moving truck — pulled up in front of the cave entrance.

“Who is this?” Abdul-Ahad whispered, keeping his hand up to forestall the attack. Had Pierce foreseen danger and brought reinforcements?

Men began emerging from the vehicles — Westerners. Probably Americans. Four of them looked like they might be soldiers, and as if to confirm that supposition, they produced Uzi machine-pistols and held them at the ready. It was almost as if they were aware that Abdul-Ahad and his men were preparing to attack. They fanned out, taking up positions around the truck, while the fifth man opened the rear loading door and went inside.

Abdul-Ahad’s stinging eyes went wide in astonishment at what he beheld next.

FIFTY-SIX

Despite being the guardian of the Ark, there was no way the aged Abba Tesfa was going to be able to bear one-fourth of the Ark’s weight. Abuna Mateos was no spring chicken either, but he was carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle containing the special priestly garments that Tesfa would need to wear to safely unwrap the Ark once it was inside the Tabernacle. That left just three of them to bear the still-wrapped relic on long wooden poles, just as the Levite priests had done in the time of Moses. Pierce took the front left corner, Carter took the right, and Lazarus carried the rest from the back. The two men of God were behind them, though Carter couldn’t see anything around the Ark’s bulk.

The going was tricky. Even before they reached the cave entrance, they had to descend uneven steps, which was no simple feat given the size of the burden they carried. But the urgency of the situation gave Carter an adrenaline boost.

Somewhere in the world, Ishiro Tanaka had just used the Roswell Fragment to activate the Black Knight satellite, turning the sun’s light away from the Earth. He had plunged the whole planet into darkness, and this time there was no one around to pull the plug on it.

No one outside their select group knew what was happening. The scientists being interviewed on radio news channels they had listened to during the drive had no explanation for it. Those who believed in holy writings and divine prophecy, and who were already on edge after the previous incidents, didn’t need technical details. As far as they were concerned, the End of Days had arrived.

In the time it had taken them to complete the trip into the Old City, pandemonium had set in. There had not been talk of more earthquakes but there were widespread reports of ethnic and religious violence, vandalism, and looting. Even more disturbing were unconfirmed stories of mass suicide. If it wasn’t already happening, Carter thought, the media was doing a great job of planting the idea in the heads of listeners.

She knew it would take days, perhaps even weeks without the sun for the Earth to become uninhabitable, but every hour — every minute — that passed with the world in the grip of End Times hysteria would do irreversible damage.

As Lazarus got the Ark unloaded, Pierce ran into what looked like a small city park. It was situated beneath the towering limestone foundation of the ancient city walls. He unlocked and removed the green metal gate blocking a cave opening, widening the entrance enough for them to get through with their burden. Once they were inside, he called for another halt, so he could replace the barrier. It was a wise precaution given the growing unrest outside. Then they resumed their descent.

Carter took note of the tri-lingual signs and placards near the entrance: Hebrew, Arabic, and English. They were moving too fast for her to read them, but two phrases stood out: King Solomon’s Quarries, and Zedekiah’s Cave.

“I know that name,” she said, as they began their descent into the subterranean world. “Zedekiah. He was the king when Jeremiah moved the Ark, wasn’t he?”

She wasn’t that curious, but talking about something other than their immediate plight helped keep her mind off the enormous burdens — both physical and symbolic — that they now carried.

“That’s right,” Pierce confirmed. “His rebellion against the Babylonians was what led to the destruction of Jerusalem and the first Temple. According to legend, when he tried to escape the siege, he hid in this cave. The Babylonians found him and executed his sons in front of him, then bored out his eyes, so their deaths were the last things he would ever see.”

Carter shuddered. “Why is it always the eyes?”

“At the farthest point in the cave, there’s a wall with trickling seepage. They call it ‘Zedekiah’s Tears.’ It’s all just folklore though. Most of this cave is man-made, quarried out by Herod the Great to build his Temple in the second century B.C.”

“Herod? Not Solomon?”

“There’s no archaeological evidence to support the claims that Solomon used stone from here, but don’t tell our Masonic friends that. This is one of their most revered sites. According to their tradition, this is where the construction of Solomon’s Temple began. They have an annual ceremony here and participate in the upkeep of the site. Which is how we were able to get the place shut down for the day so we could set up.

“Although,” he added, “that story about Solomon is probably just a ruse to hide the cave’s real purpose.”

“Which is?”

“This. What we’re doing. The place we’re going. Freemason’s Hall is less than two hundred yards from the site of the Temple foundation stone. That’s within the margin of error for Newton’s calculations about where to situate the Tabernacle and the Ark. When Chillingsworth told me they’ve been preparing for this day for three hundred years, I had no idea just what that entailed.”

The interior of the cave was spacious, and the light-colored limestone walls reflected and diffused the artificial lighting, making some parts of the underground quarry seem as bright as day. The irony of that was not lost on Carter.

“Almost there,” Pierce said.

Carter was glad to hear it. Her arms were burning from the constant exertion. The deeper they went, the rougher and more cramped the cave seemed, though by comparison to the crypt on Tana Qirqos, even the tightest spots felt as wide open as the Grand Canyon. After about two hundred yards, the slope of the floor diminished until it was almost flat. The cavern opened into a large chamber carved out of the limestone. There were a few arched openings leading even further into the subterranean realm, but Carter knew they wouldn’t be going much further. Dominating the hall was an enormous tent-like structure she knew had to be the Tabernacle. Walking toward them, holding what appeared to be a grapefruit-sized ball of metal, was Fiona. Gallo was right behind her.

“I knew you were coming.” Fiona held the orb up, as if it explained everything. “I felt it. I could almost see it.”

“Good.” Pierce called for a halt and a set-down. The exertion was getting to him as well. “Tanaka has activated the Black Knight,” he continued. “The whole planet has gone dark.”

“And people are flipping out,” Carter added.

“Can you can shut it off?”

Fiona answered without a trace of hesitation. “Yes.”

Mateos and Tesfa began an urgent but brief exchange in Amharic, the latter pointing at Fiona and the sphere in her hands. The bishop turned to Pierce. “Excuse me, but are you saying that this child intends to stand before the Mercy Seat? In the presence of the Almighty?”

Pierce’s forehead creased in dismay. “Fiona is a Kohen and a Baal’Shem,” he said. “You know those words, right? She shares the same genetic heritage as the Levite priests. And she can speak the language of creation.”

“None but the guardian may see the uncovered Ark.”

Carter interposed between the increasingly frustrated Pierce and Mateos. “Abuna, you need to trust us. We respect your traditions and understand the risk, but Fiona has extraordinary abilities.”

The bishop conveyed the message to the older monk, and they shared another exchange in their common language, but Carter could sense Tesfa’s increasing obstinacy.

“We don’t have time for this,” Pierce growled.

Mateos turned to them again. “When the Ark is placed into the Holy of Holies, Abba Tesfa alone will enter to uncover it. He will make an offering of incense and pray to God to allow this.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Pierce relented. “But let’s get to it. Every minute we waste, the world goes a little crazier.”

Lazarus broke his customary silence, not to weigh in on the matter, but to shush them all. It the sudden quiet, Carter had no difficulty making out the source of his concern. A rhythmic crunching noise, like a squad of marching soldiers, issuing from the passage behind them.

Pierce muttered an oath. “Damn it. Someone must have followed us in here.”

“A lot of someones,” Lazarus said, his tone grim. “You guys take care of things here. I’ll deal with them.”

Before he could move however, the noise stopped. A few seconds later a lone figure emerged from the passage.

“Fallon,” Pierce snarled.

The tech-billionaire paused there. In his right hand, was a semi-automatic pistol, though judging by the way he held it, he wasn’t sure why he had it.

“Check you out,” Fiona said, her sarcasm almost — but not quite — hiding a quaver of alarm. “Looking all gangsta.”

Fallon ignored her, surveying the chamber like a mountaineer gazing down from the summit. “So that’s it. The Ark of the Covenant.” He shook his head in mock admiration. “Thanks for doing the heavy lifting, Pierce, but I’ll take it from here.”

“Like hell you will.”

Fallon stared back for a moment, then glanced over at Gallo, his face twisting in an unspoken promise of menace. He turned his attention back to Pierce. “The Black Knight is a resource with unimaginable potential. We could harness all the energy of the sun. Think of what that means. Unlimited energy. We could conquer every problem. End hunger and poverty forever. Colonize the solar system. We can’t let this opportunity slip away.”

“You know what’s happening out there,” Pierce said. “We have to end this now. Forever.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Just try and stop us,” Pierce said, nodding to Lazarus who returned the nod and started forward.

Fallon paled and retreated a step, stabbing the gun in Lazarus’s direction. His smile returned. “I didn’t come alone, you know.” He looked over his shoulder. “Little help?”

Four men with military buzz cuts and tan fatigues emerged from the passage. They were also armed, but unlike Fallon, they carried Uzi machine pistols, which they leveled at the advancing Lazarus.

The big man cracked his knuckles and continued forward.

“Erik!” Carter called out. “Don’t. There’s another way.”

She drew in a deep breath and leaned close to Pierce. “He might be invincible, but we aren’t. Get the others out of here. Hide in one of those other tunnels. The fewer people out here, the better.”

Pierce opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, but then closed it just as quickly. He knew what she was preparing to do.

She turned away from him and took another deep breath. Her ability — it felt more like a curse — was not some superpower that she could exercise with precision, the way that Fiona manipulated soil and rock with the Mother Tongue. It was more like a feral animal kept locked in a cage only by the power of her will. Mostly, the beast stayed quiet, but in dire circumstances — like having four Uzis pointed her way — it woke up and started shaking the door. Control meant not using it, keeping the cage door shut through an effort of will. Letting go was a lot easier, but it meant surrendering to something unpredictable.

It also meant taking, if not the lives of her enemies, their very souls.

Fallon could not possibly have understood what she was about to do, but he seemed to sense the abrupt power shift in the chamber. His eyes went wide with fear, and he turned back into the passage. “Advance,” he shouted. “Secure.”

The noise that they had heard earlier sounded again, much louder now, and as the marching figures materialized to either side of Fallon and began streaming down into the large hall, Carter’s heart sank. This was a threat against which she was powerless.

Robots.

FIFTY-SEVEN

The four human mercenaries backed up against the wall, making way for the eight humanoid automatons that filed down into the chamber. Each one was large as Lazarus, and from the neck down, they reminded Pierce of the T-800 machines from The Terminator movie series. Though, they were stripped of anything remotely Arnie-like, and they sported four articulated arms instead of two. The biggest difference was above the shoulders, where the human-like skull had been replaced by what looked like a gimbal-mounted spherical camera inside a protective cage.

“Like ’em?” Fallon crowed, his earlier arrogance returning with a vengeance. “A little project I’ve been working on. My own variation on the ATLAS robot developed for DARPA. Improved, of course. They’re utility bots, designed for working rescue, not combat. But I’d recommend keeping your distance all the same.”

Lazarus seemed to take that as a challenge, and charged the line. Pierce had seen YouTube videos of DARPA robots getting knocked down. He expected to see the humanoid machines scattered like bowling pins on impact, but the outcome was more like something from an NFL scrimmage. As the big man drew close, the robots turned toward him in unison, lowering and repositioning like football linemen preparing for the snap. One of them was staggered back a few steps by the collision, but it stayed on its feet. After a moment, it started pushing back.

Lazarus pivoted, trying to use the machine’s weight and momentum against it, but its processors and internal gyroscopes reacted faster than even his battle-hardened reflexes, matching him move for move as the others closed in around him like soldier ants.

He tried to break contact, but the robot’s metal fingers, stronger and more unyielding than flesh and bone, had closed on his arms like manacles. Instead of wasting energy in a futile attempt to break free, Lazarus widened his stance and shifted his weight onto one foot, then twisted his body hard, whipping the robot sideways and slamming it into the pair that was closing in from his left.

Once again however, the net result fell well short of a spectacular victory. The heavy self-balancing machines were merely jostled, and after staggering back a few steps, they recovered. While that was happening, the others closed in from all angles. Anchored as he was to the first machine, there was no retreat. Three more robots moved in, and despite his best efforts to kick them away, they managed to grab hold of his legs and yank him off his feet. The others regrouped and began moving toward the Ark.

“George!” Gallo’s shout was both a warning and a question: What should we do?

Pierce had no answer. They were outnumbered and overmatched. Even one of the automatons would have been a challenge for Lazarus, and Fallon had brought eight, in addition to the hired guns.

It was a fight they couldn’t win. Like it or not, Fallon had already checkmated them. The Ark was his.

The realization triggered the unlikeliest of memories, and Pierce turned to the others. “Fall back. Find somewhere to hide. Whatever you do, don’t look back.”

Gallo stared back. “You’re going to do something crazy, aren’t you?”

Pierce didn’t answer, but turned to the Ark and started tearing away the woven papyrus wrapping as the four robots closed in, multiple arms extended, metal fingers open like claws.

Fifty feet away, Lazarus let out a tortured roar. The robots surrounding him had each seized ahold of one of his extremities, lifting him off the ground, stretching him out between them, as if they intended to pull him apart. Pierce could see the strain on the big man’s face as he fought against them. The robots’ metal feet scraped across the floor, unable to get enough traction to dismember him, but that wasn’t going to stop them from trying. Every inch Lazarus gained, he lost almost as quickly.

With another howl, Lazarus pulled his arms in hard enough to slam two of the robots into each other.

The clang of metal striking metal and the crunch of breaking bones echoed throughout the cavern, but the robots did not let go. Lazarus slumped in their grasp, unmoving, unconscious.

Or worse.

Pierce knew he would never be able to endure the same level of punishment as Lazarus, so as the other robots closed in on him, he wormed his fingers into the papyrus mesh, curling them like hooks, and pulled with all his might.

The woven shroud tore down the middle like a dried corn husk. Pierce back-pedaled, ducking away from the grasping arms, but he did not let go of his double-handful of the reedy material. As he pulled it free, the ragged edges snagged the layered blankets underneath, pulling them loose as well, partially uncovering the golden prize they concealed.

The robots did not pursue him, but instead took up defensive positions at each corner of the relic, their quadruple-arms raised and ready to fend off any attack, defending it just as Fallon had ordered. Pierce however, had no intention of getting closer. For the first time since laying eyes on the still mostly hidden object, he knew with absolute certainty that he was in the presence of the true Ark of the Covenant.

The change was barely perceptible, but it was there. A faint hum, almost too low to be heard. A tingling against his skin like static electricity, growing more intense with each passing second. Pierce had a pretty good idea of what would happen next. He flung the tattered papyrus fragments aside and scrambled after Gallo, who was trying to shepherd the others toward the relative safety of the Tabernacle and shouting for them to look away from the Ark. Fiona and the two priests were on the move, but Carter hesitated, concerned about Lazarus.

“Felice!” Pierce shouted. “Cover your eyes.”

Just as he reached her, almost tackling her to the ground, there was a bright flash behind them and a loud, harsh pop. The air filled with the crisp tang of ozone and a fouler, fishy smell of burnt insulation. The tingling sensation had abated with the lightning-like discharge, so despite his own warning to Carter, Pierce risked a backward glance.

The four robots surrounding the Ark lay face down, unmoving under a haze of blue smoke.

For a few seconds though, that appeared to be the limit of the effect. Lazarus was still caught in the grip of the remaining automatons. Fallon and his mercenaries were blinking and rubbing their eyes like they had just looked into a camera flash, but they were not out of the fight.

Then things got really interesting.

Without waiting to explain, Pierce dragged Carter along with him, fast-walking to catch up with the others as the entire cavern began to fill with light. In the time it took them to reach the shelter of the far side of the Tabernacle, the reflection off the limestone walls was so bright that the shadow cast by the great tent was indistinguishable.

Then, just as quickly, the brilliance faded.

Carter tried to pull away, but Pierce held her back. “You don’t want to go out there.”

“But Erik—”

“He’ll be okay. We won’t.”

“What’s happening?”

“It is the Glory of God,” Mateos said in a grave voice.

Pierce had figured that out already. “Shekinah.”

“You should not have uncovered it.”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Pierce muttered.

The older monk said something in his native tongue, and the bishop nodded to him. “Abba Tesfa says that the shekinah will create for itself a body from the very dust.”

“Just like the holy cows on Mount Sinai,” Fiona put in.

“It is very dangerous to approach the shekinah,” Mateos continued. “Abba Tesfa can command it to return to the Ark, but to do so, he must be wearing the priestly garments. And the Ark must be covered, or more will be created.”

Gallo called out. “It’s happening again!”

In the space of just a few seconds, the light level in the cavern increased again, building to a climax and then diminishing, as if a switch had been thrown.

The old monk began speaking again, his tone on the verge of panic.

“It should not be happening so quickly,” Mateos translated. “Something is not right.”

“It’s the Black Knight,” Fiona said. “Now that Tanaka turned it on, it’s drawing more power.”

Pierce heard the certainty in her voice, the same assuredness that had guided them out of Arkaim.

The light cycled again, the whole process taking less than thirty seconds.

“Stay here,” he said, as the peak brightness signaled the end, or rather the beginning of the next cycle. He ignored the questions of the others and darted out into the open.

The first thing he saw was Fallon huddled with his men against the wall, shielding their eyes. Then he saw the four robots holding a still unmoving Lazarus. They had gone statue still, as if awaiting new orders.

Then he saw the shekinah creatures.

There were three of them, horse-sized constructs that looked like living boulders with legs and horns. They were similar in some respects to Fiona’s golems, but as they moved, meandering in circles around the partially concealed Ark, brilliance shone through miniscule cracks in their solid shells, revealing the living light within.

Fiona’s words from Mount Sinai came back to him. The Originators made them to store the energy they harvested from the sun… Living energy inside a shell made of melted rock.

Now he understood. The Ark had been built to contain the Originator power collection machine, to which the Black Knight and the pieces of memory metal were all connected. When the Black Knight was dormant, the energy trickled into the Ark, but now the process had been kicked into high gear.

Pierce did a quick calculation. Three cycles so far, each creating a new shekinah creature, all in less than two minutes. In ten minutes, the cavern would be full of the creatures, each one a walking bomb.

The light from the Ark was getting brighter again.

“Fallon!” Pierce shouted. The other man’s head came up and turned in his direction. “Get over here. And stay away from those things.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Fallon rallied his men and began moving along the wall toward Pierce, even as the brilliance spiked toward maximum intensity. Pierce looked away to avoid being blinded. In the instant that he did, he saw tiny charcoal gray particles, like fibers of ash, blowing across the cavern floor. They bonded together in fibrous chains, like dust motes transforming into cobwebs, as they were drawn closer to the Ark.

This was how the shekinahs formed their bodies. Pierce recalled reading about a recently discovered phenomenon known as teslaphoresis, in which a strong electrical field caused carbon nanotubes to assemble into wires and even more complicated structures, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together on command. The Originators had evidently taken the process a step further, drawing carbon from dust particles on the cavern floor, maybe even pulling them out of the air, atom by atom, to form the shells that contained the living energy of the shekinah.

The light peaked and then subsided, revealing a fourth creature standing before the ark.

He ran out to intercept Fallon and the mercenaries. The latter, taking note of his approach, shifted their guns toward him, but he ignored them, focusing on the billionaire. “Tell your robots to stand down.”

Fallon gaped at him for a moment, processing the request, then turned toward the four remaining automatons. He cupped a hand over his mouth and shouted: “Secure and remove!”

In unison, the four robots let go of Lazarus, dropping him in a heap on the cavern floor, and then began moving toward the Ark.

“No,” Pierce protested. “Get them away from—”

A bright flash and the harsh pop of an electrical current ionizing the air around the humanoid machines drowned out his warning. Their circuits fried by the discharge, the four robots fell over like broken toy soldiers.

Pierce shook his head in frustration then turned to Fallon again. “Stay the hell away from that thing! You’ll get us all killed.”

Then, ignoring his own advice, he sprinted across the chamber, maneuvering around one of the slow-moving shekinah creatures, to reach the supine form of Lazarus. The big man’s face was twisted into a rictus of pain — not from his injuries but from the expedited healing process. Pierce knew all too well how vulnerable Lazarus was at this instant, not physically but psychologically. Lazarus’s mental discipline did not make him immune to the agony that accompanied rapid cellular regeneration. But it enabled him to keep the madness that accompanied it at bay. If that discipline slipped…

A few steps away, the light around the Ark was reaching another peak.

“Erik. We’ve got to get you out of here. Can you walk?”

Lazarus’s eyes flew open and locked onto Pierce. For a fleeting instant, Pierce feared his friend had crossed the threshold. But instead of tearing Pierce’s head off, Lazarus sprang to his feet. There was a hint of wildness in his expression as he looked around, taking in his surroundings, catching up. Then he nodded.

Pierce turned and led the way back to the Tabernacle at a run, reaching it just a few seconds after Fallon and his men. The mercenaries were holding their weapons up tentatively, as if uncertain whether they were supposed to be guarding the others. When Carter ran to Lazarus and threw her arms around him, the men bristled, as if she was about to attack them.

“Put those things away,” Pierce snapped, directing most of his ire at Fallon. “Tell your goons to stay out of the way, and we just might all walk out of here.”

Without waiting for a reply, he moved past to join the others and addressed Mateos. “Tell the Abba to get suited up. We need him to keep the shekinahs from killing us all, long enough to get the Ark into the Most Holy.”

Mateos relayed this to Tesfa, who nodded and reached for the bundle containing the ancient priestly garments. Even with an efficiency borne of practice, it took a couple of minutes for Tesfa to get outfitted, during which time the shekinah glory cycled three more times. But despite the urgency of the situation, Pierce marveled as he beheld ancient holy artifacts that only a handful of living people had ever seen.

After the tunic-like ephod and the gem-encrusted hoshen breast plate were donned, Mateos settled the turban onto the monk’s head. Pierce glimpsed the writing on the golden crown but didn’t recognize the script — it definitely was not Hebrew.

Fiona recognized it though. “That’s the Mother Tongue,” she whispered. “I can’t tell what it says though.”

Despite her unique abilities, Fiona was by no means literate in the forgotten language of God. She had memorized certain phrases, and had used her knowledge of the Siletz tribal language to estimate others, but the script was indecipherable. There were hardly any existing samples of it, which meant that even figuring out its alphabet was a virtual impossibility.

“It’s the true name of God,” Pierce whispered back.

With the addition of the headgear, Mateos was left holding only a small cloth bag, tied shut with a length of red string. Pierce guessed that it held the two most mysterious artifacts associated with the High Priest of ancient Israel.

“Urim and Thummim,” he whispered, and he watched as Mateos opened the pouch and shook the contents into his palm, curious to see what they would really look like.

The first item was a smooth sphere of polished transparent crystal, about two inches in diameter.

Tesfa took it and slipped it behind the priestly breastplate.

Was that the Urim or the Thummin? Pierce wondered. Revelation or Truth?

Mateos gave the pouch a shake and something else rolled out, another sphere the same size as the first, but it was not a crystal or a stone. The object nestled in Mateos’s cupped palm was an orb of memory metal.

Of course, Pierce thought, resisting the impulse to smack his forehead.

Tesfa placed the second orb under the breastplate and signaled his readiness.

Pierce turned to the others. “Gus, get Fi into the Tabernacle and wait for us. Erik, you and Felice go with her. Fallon…” He fixed his stare on the other man. “If you care about making this right, we could use a hand.”

Fallon stared back in surprise, either at Pierce’s assertiveness or at the request itself. He narrowed his eyes. “We’ll help you get that thing in the tent, but we’re going to use it to control the Black Knight, not shut it down.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the mercenaries. “You heard him. Let’s go save the world.”

The men looked at each other and then back at Fallon. Even Pierce could see their hesitancy.

“This is why I prefer robots,” Fallon growled. “You do realize that if we don’t get out of here, you don’t get paid?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Pierce said, and turned back to the Ethiopian clergymen. “We have to do this, now.”

Tesfa was already moving, not waiting for a translation. Mateo followed him, and so did Pierce.

Lazarus stepped forward as well. “You need me out there,” he said.

Pierce nodded.

They encountered a shekinah as soon as they rounded the corner of the Tabernacle. Pierce was about to shout a warning, but Tesfa spoke first, raising his hand and chanting in what Pierce assumed was his native tongue. The words, Pierce knew, probably didn’t matter. Only the intention of the speaker, in tandem with the Originator artifacts he carried in his priestly garments.

The shambling thing stopped, turned and began moving away.

Pierce breathed a small sigh of relief, but there were at least a half-dozen more of the creatures on the floor of the auditorium chamber, all gravitating toward the group. And judging by the light level, there was about to be one more.

“Don’t look at it,” Pierce warned. “Keep your eyes shut!”

He covered his face with his hands, but despite these precautions, he could still see a bright swell of illumination accompanying the creation of yet another shekinah. Tesfa’s chant however, was keeping the living-light beasts at bay, parting them like Moses parted the Red Sea, clearing a path to the Ark. He lowered his hand and saw that they were almost there.

“When we get there,” he shouted, not looking back, “use the poles. Whatever you do, don’t touch the Ark itself.”

“Pierce!” Lazarus’s shout broke through his tunnel-vision focus on the Ark. The big man was pointing to the mouth of the passage leading back to the surface. “Who the hell are those guys?”

Pierce’s vision was so bleached by exposure to the intense light that he could barely make out the human shapes gathered there, but then a collective shout issued from the darkness. Pierce did not speak the language, but it was a phrase he recognized all too well. The battle cry of Islamic armies since the time of the Prophet Muhammed.

“Allahu akbar!”

Then, a swarm of dark shapes broke from the shadows and charged into the chamber.

FIFTY-EIGHT

Even before reaching the large hall deep within the cave, Abdul-Ahad knew that Pierce and the other agents of Masih ad-Dajjal were attempting to raise an army of jinn, just as they had done on the slopes of Jabal Musa in Egypt. The intense light radiating up from the depths, which triggered sympathetic pains in his still-burning eyes, was unmistakable.

“The jinn will be bound in earthen vessels,” he told the others as they descended toward the source of that brilliance. “Destroy the vessels, and the jinn will be freed to consume the wicked for the glory of God.”

“Will we die?” asked one of the young fighters.

Abdul-Ahad was ready with an answer. “We will be taken into the bosom of the Prophet, peace be upon him.”

When they reached the large chamber, crouching at the entrance to survey what would be their last battlefield, he saw the jinn, just as he knew he would, but he saw something else, too.

“At-tabut,” he whispered. The Chest of Assurance, which God gave to the Prophet Musa, peace be upon him. It was written, in the Holy Quran: ‘The Chest will come to you in which is assurance from your Lord. Indeed in that is a sign for you, if you are believers.’

Except the Chest was in the hands of the unbelievers.

He raised his knife high, shouted the traditional war cry and charged.

The men with Uzis reacted fastest. They raised their weapons and started shooting. The ululating of Abdul-Ahad’s fellow fighters was drowned out by the harsh report of automatic weapons fire and the screams of the injured, but even that was a glorious sound — more faithful martyrs on their way to Paradise.

Some of the unbelievers scattered. Pierce and the big man covered the old priests with their bodies, hustling them away from the fight, as if they were the focus of the attack.

Let them, Abdul-Ahad thought. The rocks will not hide them from the glory of God. Taste the punishment of the Blazing—

Something, like an invisible fist, slammed into his chest, spinning him off his feet. As he crashed onto the stone, he felt a tingling at the point of impact, then heat, then fire.

I’ve been shot.

The notion unexpectedly terrified him. This was not how it was supposed to be. Where was the ecstasy? The euphoria of martyrdom?

Fool, he thought, gritting his teeth against the pain. There is no reward for failure.

He struggled to roll over. Around him, the battle seemed to be growing more feverish, the air filled with shouts and screams. The harsh buzz-saw reports of the Uzis drowned out the screams, and the light, growing brighter and brighter again with the glory of God, filled the space.

The shooting told him that at least some of his men were still alive, still in the fight, but for how much longer?

He got to his hands and knees. His left arm collapsed, the pain bringing tears to his stinging eyes. He planted his right hand flat on the floor of the cave and pulled himself forward, toward the Chest.

The brilliance swelled around him, enfolding him with but a taste of the glory that awaited him in Paradise. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to endure it, raising his head again only when the vision faded.

A jinn stood before the Chest, as if sent to block his way, but Abdul-Ahad knew it was something else. This was the sign, promised by God.

He clawed the stone, pulling himself closer. The creature seemed impossibly far away, but after a moment, it began to move toward him.

Even though the earthen vessel contained its glory, with each step closer, he could feel its power coursing through his body. Another step and it was within his reach, offering itself to him like a sacrifice.

Yes, he thought, raising his blade. God be praised.

FIFTY-NINE

The blast tore through the Tabernacle like a hurricane. Fiona had been crouched low behind the golden table, where she had taken shelter with Gallo and Carter when the shooting started. They had no clue what was happening outside, who was shooting at whom, but they knew it couldn’t be good. Then, with no warning, she was buried under a heavy, shapeless mass of fabric.

Yet, through the mental haze induced by the concussion, she knew what had happened.

Someone, maybe with a stray bullet, had destroyed one of the shekinah creatures. Light, even the cool light contained in the body of the shekinahs, was composed of high-energy particles, and in the confines of the underground chamber, the sudden release of so much densely packed energy was like a bomb going off…in a room full of bombs.

The weight of the collapsed tent made it almost impossible to breathe, which in turn triggered a panic-fueled feedback loop. Frantic, she tore at the fabric, trying to squirm out from under it, but it was too heavy and she was too disoriented, with no sense of which direction to go. If it had been a landslide or a cave-in, she would have created a golem to dig her out, but…

But what?

If you sing to the river…

She had sung to the river, and to the pool under Arkaim, and it had listened to her. If she had learned anything in the years since being awakened to her ability, it was that intention was just as important — maybe more important — than the actual words.

And then there was the Ark.

The Israelite war-leader Yeshua ben Nun, who by all accounts was neither a priest nor a Baal’Shem, had unleashed the power of the Ark on his enemies, and even activated the Black Knight — something he surely didn’t even know about — to make the sun stand still in the sky.

Perfect knowledge of the Mother Tongue didn’t matter. All that mattered was focused intention. The mere act of speaking the words was enough to make things happen. The Ark responded to intention like a psychic amplifier.

It was practically within reach. She could feel it, resonating in the memory metal orb she carried in her pocket.

“Evaporate,” she whispered.

The heavy fabric of the Tabernacle rose into the air, as light as gossamer, and then broke apart like smoke in a stiff breeze.

Her eyes roved the chamber, surveying the damage, yet she did not merely see.

She knew.

She saw Carter and Gallo, who had been trapped under the collapsed Tabernacle with her. They were already stirring. She knew they would be fine. Pierce and Lazarus and the two Ethiopians weren’t moving, but she knew they were all still alive. Fallon, too. All were stunned but not injured. They had all sought cover when the shooting began, putting enough distance between themselves and the shekinah creatures to survive the multiple detonations.

She did not see the four mercenaries, and knew they were all gone, vaporized by the flash, along with the unknown attackers.

The shekinahs were gone, too, but that wouldn’t last. As long as the Black Knight was active, it would continue collecting energy from the sun, transmitting it to the Ark, to create more and more of the creatures until the cavern filled up with them.

Another blast was inevitable.

The first explosion had nearly brought down the entire cavern. Jagged cracks ran up the walls and crisscrossed the floor. The air was thick with dust, and piles of rubble showed where the ceiling was starting to give way.

The next detonation would entomb them all.

There’s not going to be a next one, she thought. It’s time to shut this thing down.

“Bring back the sun,” she said, speaking in a clear voice. “Turn off the Black Knight.”

Nothing changed. The light continued to shine, growing brighter and brighter with each passing second, and she knew it had not worked. The Black Knight was still absorbing some of the sun’s power, transferring it to the Ark, while diverting the rest of it away into the cold of space.

What did I do wrong?

She tried again, imagining a gigantic mirror, spread out like a planet-sized umbrella above the Earth, and then visualized it disappearing and returning everything to normal, but even as she repeated the command, she knew that this second attempt had also failed.

Maybe I need to get closer. She started toward the Ark.

The coverings were gone, blown away along with everything else, revealing the ancient relic in all its glory. It looked a lot like the various representations she had seen, except for the size — it was much larger than in the movies, because the prop makers hadn’t known about the length of the Sacred Cubit. The cherubs on the lid, the Mercy Seat, were different. Multi-winged, multi-headed, and multi-eyed, they were mythological creatures instead of the traditional depiction of men with wings.

It occurred to Fiona that she was one of only a handful of people, living or dead, to have ever seen it.

Even fewer had done what she was about to do now.

Gallo’s voice reached out through the gloom from behind her. “Fi, don’t touch it.”

But she did.

Visions of the past slammed through her. Moses, an ancient warrior king, the cow-batteries, and the true origins of the Black Knight, the Ark, and the orbs, and how they all worked together. Fiona stumbled backward, the memory dump hitting her like a physical blow, but she managed to stay on her feet. “It’s real,” she whispered to herself.

“Fi!” Gallo cried out again. “Talk to me.”

“I’m okay,” she said, turning, searching the chamber again.

There you are.

She hurried across the rubble strewn floor to the spot where Pierce and Lazarus lay. The latter was already stirring, shaking off the effects of the shekinah detonation faster than the others. He stared up at her. “Fiona? Are you okay?”

There was no time to explain. She pushed past him and knelt beside the crumped form of the Abba Tesfa. He was unconscious, but what Fiona needed did not require rousing him. She slipped the turban off his head, and then reached under the breastplate, rooting around until she found the two objects concealed beneath.

Urim and Thummin, Pierce had called them. Revelation and Truth.

She knew intuitively which was which. The memory metal was Urim — Revelation.

She already had the piece of memory metal from Arkaim though. What she needed was the other one, the clear crystal sphere.

The Thummim.

Truth.

The oracular Eye of the blind seer Tiresias, which the castaway king — remembered in legend as Odysseus — had brought back from the Underworld and given to Moses on the slopes of Mount Sinai. Odysseus had washed up there after his ship was destroyed, not by literal sea monsters named Scylla and Charybdis, but by the tsunami wave generated after the sudden explosive eruption of Thera in the Mediterranean. He had landed on the island of Helios, an occurrence she now understood wasn’t simply chance. She would use the Eye now to find the hidden word that would unseal the Ark.

The true name of God.

She held the crystal up to her own eye and looked down at the golden plate affixed to the front of the priestly turban.

The transparent sphere flipped and distorted the image, causing the strange script to wriggle and squirm. She tried to hold the crystal steady but the word kept shifting form, morphing into different words, which despite being written in a forgotten language, she was able to read.

I am the sun and the moon… the lightning and the river and the wilderness.

The name was all those things, and many more.

The letters became fixed, a single word written in the Mother Tongue, but nevertheless revealed to her. She turned to the Ark again, formed the image in her mind, and spoke the word.

The energy reverses, flowing back to the damaged collector, which orbits high above the world, and then it seeks out the damaged, malfunctioning fragment.

Six thousand miles away, the Roswell fragment ceases to exist, along with the antenna array, most of the HAARP facility, and a troubled man named Ishiro Tanaka.

And daylight returns to the world.

SIXTY

The explosion had rung Pierce’s bell a little, and even though he had looked away and covered his eyes when the shooting started, he now saw everything through a murky green haze. Nevertheless, he could tell that something had changed. The persistent electrical hum… The light, rising and falling… The shekinahs…

Gone.

All of it.

“It’s over,” he whispered. He blinked in a futile attempt to bring the world into focus, and saw Fiona. “You did it.”

He thought he saw a weak smile on her face. “Yeah.”

Then he noticed the Ark — or rather, the lack of an Ark.

It was missing.

His eyes widened.

Did we destroy the Ark of the Covenant?

“No!” Fallon scrambled to his feet and rushed toward her.

“Fallon!” Pierce’s shout went unheeded.

The billionaire’s reaction caught even Lazarus off guard. Fiona retreated a step, but Fallon wasn’t interested in her.

He dropped to his knees where the Ark had been.

“No,” Fallon repeated, dragging his fingers over the floor, as though trying to find some trace of the artifact’s essence. “No. No.”

He rounded on Fiona. “What did you do?”

Lazarus sprang to his feet and started toward them, and Pierce wasn’t far behind. Fiona, however, stood her ground.

“I hit the self-destruct button. The Black Knight is toast.”

“No!” Fallon raged again, and before Lazarus or Pierce could reach them, he drew the unfired pistol from his belt and thrust the muzzle into Fiona’s face. “Bring it back.”

“It’s not coming back,” she said, holding up her hands, displaying the memory metal ball from Arkaim and the crystal sphere from Tesfa’s breast plate. She squeezed them in her fists, and the relics crumbled like pieces of Styrofoam. “Ever.”

“No.” Fallon said again, grinding his teeth together. His finger tightened on the trigger.

Fiona’s lips moved again, but before she could say anything, a section of the cavern ceiling, loosened by the explosion, broke free and came down right on top of Fallon, squashing him like an open hand slapping a fly on a tabletop.

Pierce skidded to a stop a few steps away and stared across the top of the rubble pile at the girl. Fiona had not moved an inch. The falling rocks had come within a hair’s breadth of hitting her, but she had not even flinched.

Lazarus knelt and checked Fallon for a pulse. “Still alive.”

It was almost as if she had known what was about to happen, and that she would be safe. And the falling rocks had looked a lot like a giant hand.

She nodded to him. “Now it’s over.”