The Temple Mount Code

48

When Miriam woke, she saw Lourds sitting at the small desk in the corner of the basement room they were hiding in. Reza and his friends were working out the details of the rescue effort to get Lourds and her out of the country. One of Reza’s people had already retrieved the book hidden in Lourds’s former hotel room.

The story about the prison break-in — touted as an attack by US- and Israeli-backed terrorists in the Iranian papers and media — was all over the news. They also declared the Revolutionary Guardsmen had provided a good accounting of themselves, killing upward of a hundred of their attackers.

The tale had been concocted to account for the damage that had been done, to make the Guardsmen look better, to refute the idea that a small force could have reduced the place to shambles, and to explain all of the bodies coming out. Whoever the other team was, they had been lethally efficient.

Fully dressed under the blanket in case she had to get up and bolt at a moment’s notice, Miriam watched Lourds working. She didn’t know if he’d slept on the thin pallet Reza had provided beside the small bed she slept in.

Fresh scrapes and bruises showed on his face and arms. Every now and again, he touched his face and jerked as pain sliced through him. It reminded her that he wasn’t a soldier — or a Mossad agent — used to hardship and injury.

He leaned back in the chair and stretched, and she wondered at how he could put in such inhuman hours. After Reza had gotten Professor Namati’s statue of al-Buraq from his office, Lourds had been extremely excited, and had even told her that he’d figured out how to break the code in the book.

But, as the hours had stretched on, he’d become more dispirited and morose. The solution hadn’t come as easily as he’d expected.

He leaned back now, putting his hands on his forehead and staring up at the featureless ceiling. He was lost, she knew, tangled somewhere in all the evaluations and permutations of his thoughts. She felt sorry for him.

She could only guess how afraid he’d been to go along with the risky plan the former Revolutionary Guardsmen had come up with to break into the prison and get her out.

But, in the end, he’d been there.

It said a lot about him.

‘Stuck?’

Startled out of his reverie, he turned and looked at her. ‘Good morning.’

‘Is it?’

‘Beg pardon?’

‘Morning. I’ve lost all track of time.’

‘It is.’ Lourds looked at his satphone. ‘No. I’m wrong. It’s two in the afternoon.’

‘Have you slept?’

‘Yes.’

‘Much?’

‘Not really.’ Lourds gestured at the book and the statue. ‘I don’t like being stymied. It’s always part of the process, but I’ve never gotten used to it.’

Miriam threw the blanket back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘Would you explain what you were talking about with the flying horse again? I can barely remember yesterday.’ She’d slept most of yesterday, with her pistols under her pillow and Lourds in the room with her.

‘Why don’t I go get us something to eat, and we can talk over lunch. You haven’t eaten very much, and I’m famished.’

‘You’re always famished.’

Lourds showed her a mock scowl, then headed for the corner of the room where the ladder led up to the house above them. He knocked, was allowed to exit, and went up.

Miriam lay back on the bed and stared at the winged horse.

She awoke again when Lourds sat on the bed. Her hand curled on the butt of one of the pistols almost before she realized it.

Lourds grimaced, knowing what had happened. ‘I’ve never had a graduate student quite like you.’

Feeling slightly embarrassed, not sure if Lourds’s naïveté was genuine or not, Miriam left the pistol under the pillow and sat up.

He held a plate loaded with food. ‘I thought we could share.’ He handed it to Miriam, who balanced it on her crossed legs.

Lourds got up and returned with the statue and the book. ‘Lev caught onto the secret behind the code before I did. Maybe it was something he saw or something he read. Maybe he read Sahih al-Maliki’s name and realized that the man had made the statue of al-Buraq that Professor Namadi had, I don’t know. Perhaps he learned we’re starting with different theories in our translations.’ He held up the winged horse. ‘The code is with the horse.’

Leaving the food alone for the moment, Miriam took the horse and examined it. It felt heavy and solid, just as she remembered it had from the previous day. ‘There are no hiding places in the statue.’ She hesitated. ‘I think you said the secret wasn’t what was inside the horse, but what was on the outside.’

‘Exactly.’ He captured one of her hands in his and held her fingers flat as he stroked the horse’s side. At first, she felt nothing, then she noticed the small nubs, irregularities. ‘Do you feel those?’

‘Yes.’

‘We were very fortunate. Those could have been worn away over the years. I don’t think the secret of the horse and the book were supposed to be separated. They were meant to stay together. Maybe only one or two people each generation knew their secret as they were handed down. A death robbed the world of this treasure for hundreds of years or even more than a thousand. The important thing is that they’re meant to be used together.’

‘How?’

Lourds opened the book and laid the statue on one of the pages. He squared the horse up so it was facing toward the center of the book and the foundation matched the line drawn across the bottom of the page. ‘I used a light dusting of charcoal to mark the contact points and pick out the symbols.’

When he removed the horse, six of the Farsi words on the page were marked.

Stunned, Miriam gazed at the words. ‘These words are part of a hidden message?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s the message?’

‘It’s dire, I’m afraid.’ Lourds cleared his throat. ‘“I have held the Holy Koran of the great Mohammad in my hands. I have held the scroll that is our future. A worker found them both in a secret chamber dug under the holy rock from which Mohammad ascended to the heavens. I ordered the worker killed so no word of the Great One’s texts would ever be known. No man’s eyes should rest upon the sacred scroll because the Great One foresees the coming of the last religious campaign to turn the world into believers. The sky will burn with great fire and explosions that will destroy cities and states. The fire will rise high into the sky and reach the heavens. The explosions will shake the earth and be heard around the world. Islam will lay waste to the armies of the nonbelievers across the world. The Scroll orders in the future a great jihad against all infidels using this great fire and explosion which Islam has acquired until all finally yield to the power of Islam and convert. The Christian Kingdoms shall fall first before the devastation.” The author adds, “Look for the Winged Beast, and the texts of the Great One will be found.”’

Miriam was surprised at how afraid the passage made her feel. ‘That sounds suspiciously like nuclear weapons.’

‘I know. There’s another message that’s repeated over and over, but I can’t make sense of it. It says that the key lies in the four corners of the world.’

‘Maybe it’s referencing a map in the text. Isn’t there a map in the book?’

‘Several in fact.’ Lourds flipped through the book and showed her the beautifully hand-drawn maps of Jerusalem, Mecca, Abyssinia, Yathrib — Medina, and other countries of the Arabian Peninsula. ‘There’s even blueprints of the Dome of the Rock.’ He turned to that page, located in the center of the book, and the pages fell open evenly.

Miriam stared at the diagram of the Dome and was again taken by its beauty. The blueprint was done with a sure and steady hand, and there were even engineers drawn into it as they worked on various facets of the Dome.

‘Maybe … maybe I translated it wrong.’ Lourds’s voice was hushed as he studied the drawing. ‘Maybe it wasn’t the four corners of the world. I was thinking world, but maybe al-Maliki was referring to the book.’ He reached for one of the hinged brass corner pieces of the book.

Excitement thrilled through Miriam as she watched him work. He took out the small knife he carried and opened one of the specialty blades. Working the tip between the leather and metal, the corner piece popped off into his palm. When he opened it, forming an hourglass shape, scratches marred the smooth finish inside.

Symbols marked three of one of the piece’s sides and two sides on the other. The two pieces both shared one of the symbols, and Lourds unhinged both pieces and refitted them together, matching the symbol on the first piece to its mate on the second. Delicate burrs on the sides of the pieces allowed them to fit together exactly. Engraved lines met perfectly.

‘This is it.’ Lourds’s voice was a hoarse whisper. With meticulous care, he took apart the other three corners and opened them.

Together, they matched the symbols and fit the pieces together till they had a brass map assembled of the eight pieces. It wasn’t square as Miriam had at first thought it would be, but a stair-stepped construction instead.

‘Is that a cavern system?’ Miriam traced the markings.

‘That’s what it looks like.’ Lourds peered more closely at it. ‘There’s writing here.’ He went to his backpack and drew out a magnifying glass. He turned the map to better catch the light. Then he gave the map to Miriam. ‘See if you can read that.’

Miriam took the map and the magnifying glass. She struggled with the symbols, and Lourds helped her in several places. ‘“Where do the Souls gather in the Well and where does Mohammad see heaven?”’ She looked up at Lourds in disbelief. ‘You think this refers to the Well of Souls in the Dome of the Rock?’

He stared back at her. ‘Don’t you?’

Miriam couldn’t answer. It was too fantastic. And yet, just like the corner pieces of the book, it all fit. ‘There’s a cavern under the Dome of the Rock?’

‘According to that map, there’s more than one. Mohammad’s Koran and the Scroll are hidden somewhere in that cave system. If we can find the right starting point, if we can find these caves—’

‘If you can get into that place without being killed.’

‘If we can. Then we can find out if this legend is true.’ Lourds looked at her. ‘There may not be anything there. This might all still be just a story, you know.’

‘But you don’t think it is.’

‘No.’

‘Neither do I. Keep that thought. I’ve got to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ She reached under the pillow for her pistols, tucked them into her waistband, pulled on the hated burqa that now served to disguise her armament, and left him standing there looking like he’d been hit with a baseball bat.