The Templar Heresy

38

‘It all looks quiet enough,’ Angela murmured.

She and Bronson were standing on the Kotel Plaza opposite the Wailing Wall, about twenty yards or so down a side street, a position from which they could see almost all of the open space in front of them. They’d been waiting for about ten minutes and in all that time they’d seen only two people — a couple walking arm in arm — cross the square. At a little after two in the morning, the lack of activity was hardly surprising, and exactly what they were hoping for.

‘Right, then,’ Bronson said quietly. ‘There’s no time like the present, I suppose. Let’s go.’

They stepped forward, arm in arm, looking as much as possible like a couple returning from a night out. The last thing they wanted was to be stopped, since in the pockets of Bronson’s lightweight jacket he was carrying three pairs of pliers and two screwdrivers, half a dozen crudely made skeleton keys that he had fabricated during the afternoon, as well as his version of a torsion wrench, a device to apply turning pressure to the barrel of a lock. It was, by any standards, a comprehensive, if home-made, DIY burglary kit, and he was in no doubt that if he was stopped and searched, he would be spending the rest of that night in a police cell.

They wandered casually across to the Wailing Wall, and for a few seconds just stood beside it, again checking that they were unobserved. Then they moved into the shadows cast by the Western Wall Heritage building and stood motionless for a moment.

‘So far, so good,’ Angela murmured.

‘That was very definitely the easy bit,’ Bronson said.

‘From now on, if anybody sees us or stops us, we’re in big trouble.’

He bent down to examine the lock on the outer gate, while Angela shone a light so that he could see what he was doing.

That afternoon, as well as buying the tools that were now in his pocket, Bronson had also purchased four torches, two small and two larger and more powerful, and half a dozen spare batteries for each. He’d then taken one of the small torches and placed electrical tape over the glass so that the beam of light it emitted was reduced to little more than the diameter of a pencil. That, he knew, would give him more than enough light to work by, but hopefully would not be bright enough to attract the attention of any passers-by.

He gripped the handle of the gate firmly, but even as he did so, something totally unexpected happened: the gate swung open silently at his touch.

‘What?’ he muttered.

‘It’s already open,’ Angela whispered, stating what was surprisingly obvious to them both.

‘They definitely wouldn’t have forgotten to lock it,’ Bronson said, equally quietly. ‘I don’t think we’re the first intruders to get inside here tonight.’

Angela gripped his arm.

‘You mean they’re already here? Somewhere inside the tunnel? We should go back, just forget this.’

‘I really don’t want to do that.’ Bronson’s tone was firm. ‘Whatever they’re doing in the tunnels, they’re bound to leave traces. That means the Israeli authorities will know that someone was in here, and they’ll immediately step up their security. The only chance we have of getting in there is tonight. Right now, in fact. Whoever’s inside won’t know that we’re behind them, so hopefully we can just follow them while they do the searching for us.’ He paused. ‘Look, are you still up for this?’ he asked. ‘You know, right now you can still walk away. I can do this by myself.’

Angela didn’t respond for a moment, her face a pale oval in the dim moonlight. Then she shook her head.

‘If those are the same people that massacred my colleagues in Iraq,’ she whispered, ‘then I definitely don’t want to go in there tonight. Walking into a black tunnel where there are men carrying guns isn’t my idea of good thinking, and you shouldn’t go in there either, not without a weapon.’

He touched her arm in reassurance.

‘If it is those men, then if they’re armed at all they’ll be carrying pistols, and pistols aren’t going to be too much use in a confined space like the tunnel and spaces under the Temple Mount.’

He reached down and picked up a length of rebar — the steel reinforcing bar used in concrete — that was lying on the ground just outside the doorway.

‘Down there in the dark, this will probably be more use than a pistol. I’ll be okay.’

Angela’s face was barely visible in the moonlight, but Bronson could still see from her expression that she was terrified for him.

‘There could be a dozen of them in there,’ she said, ‘just waiting for you to walk in. We should go, just forget all about this,’ she added, repeating herself.

For a few seconds, Bronson contemplated doing just that, taking the easy option. But he knew that if they didn’t get to the bottom of the mystery neither he nor, more importantly, Angela, would ever be safe. There was no option. He had to get in there, no matter what the risks. And having come this far he was desperate to solve this mystery too. He shook his head.

‘I doubt very much if there are that many inside. And they’ll be looking in front of them, searching for this key thing, not behind, where I’ll be.’

For a long moment, Angela just stared at him, her eyes unblinking as if she was committing his face to her memory. Then she bowed her head and nodded.

‘I really don’t want you to do this, Chris. But I know I won’t be able to stop you. I can’t go with you, I just can’t, but I’ll stay out here and listen. And if I hear anything, then I’m going to call the police.’

‘Good.’ He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Stay close and keep your ears open. I’ll be fine.’

And a second later Bronson, a black-suited figure barely visible against the night sky, was gone, stepping inside the gate and out of sight.

In the square, Angela took out her mobile and checked the signal strength and the amount of charge remaining in the battery — both indicated nearly the maximum — then made herself as small as she could, squatting down beside the entrance to the Western Wall Heritage, where hopefully she would not be seen, but would still be close enough to the entrance to hear anything happening inside.