The Temple Mount Code

52

‘Quickly! Drain the far chamber!’ Evidently Davari had seen and figured out the significance of the bronze disk as well.

Lourds silently cursed himself for being so drawn into the mystery. But in his heart, he knew he hadn’t had a choice. If Davari was going to kill him, if he was going to die, Lourds couldn’t resist solving the puzzle first.

And his hubris might have damned the world. Always the puzzle solver, never the voice of salvation. Ah, Thomas, at least the planet will soon be saved from any more of your selfish predilections.

Lourds started to rise as two of the men leaped down into the far chamber and yanked at the plug. The gurgling of the water increased in speed and intensity.

‘Not you, Professor Lourds. I think you are fine where you are.’ Davari kept his weapon directed at him. ‘I would like very much for you to stay alive a while longer. In case you are needed.’ The colonel smiled a little. ‘Who knows? Perhaps the Ayatollah won’t mind very much if I leave you here alive.’

Lourds didn’t believe him, not after what Davari had done to Professor Namati in Evin Prison. Around him, the guards were distracted enough by the recovery operation that he thought he had a good chance at escape, but he couldn’t leave. He was stuck fast. He was also struck by the incongruity that Davari now had six followers instead of five.

The first cistern chamber hadn’t quite emptied when the partition on the second one was released. Water rushed from the second chamber into the first with thunderous gurgling, and the drain flow increased dramatically. The two other cistern chambers, including the one with the flying beast marking it and the bronze disk at the bottom, were quickly emptied as well.

Davari waved Lourds toward the empty cistern. ‘Get down there. Find out what is there.’

Knowing that Davari expected the disk to be booby-trapped in some way, Lourds dropped into the chamber. Even without the gun pointed at him, even without the notion of traps, he was going. He couldn’t stay away now if he tried. His boots splashed through the shallow water puddles on the uneven floor.

Reaching for the bronze disk, Lourds felt through the silt that had drifted down over the area. They were lucky that the last thirteen hundred years hadn’t filled the cistern entirely with silt, but it meant that the source — whatever it was — was mostly clean. Or perhaps it was filtered through an aquifer at the other end.

‘Stop right there.’

Lourds couldn’t believe it. One hand held his flashlight and the other hovered only inches from the surface of the bronze disk. He was pinned in the glare of Davari’s flashlight and at least three of the others.

‘What?’

‘There are no traps. I will not have the hands of an infidel on the holy words of God and Mohammad. You will touch the disk and go no farther.’

Helplessly, Lourds watched as one of the men clambered down into the chamber at Davari’s direction. The man seized the disk, twisted, then shook his head at the colonel.

‘Help him.’

Lourds put his flashlight to one side, then gripped the disk as well and heaved. Grudgingly, the disk turned, the bronze metal grating against the stone. After a few more coordinated heaves, the disk slid from the opening.

The Revolutionary Guardsman pointed his flashlight into the hole. Lourds grabbed his own light and added its beam.

Below, in the musty darkness, was a small room. A stone writing table held two ceramic oil lamps. In the far corner sat an old stone chest covered in tiles. Even in the weak light, Lourds made out the flying beast on the tiles, blue against the white.

‘Lourds, look out!’

As Lourds glanced up, the Guardsman beside him started to draw his weapon, but his head burst apart, spilling blood, brains, and bone across the wet floor. The dead man rolled bonelessly to one side.

At the top of the cistern chamber, Davari jerked, and blood jumped from the side of his neck. The colonel threw his light down and dodged for the darkness.

Muzzle flashes strobed the inky blackness that suddenly filled the chamber. The attacker’s shots had been silenced, but the Guardsmen’s weren’t. The hollow booms of their weapons filled the cavern space, deafening Lourds, who clapped his hands over his ears.

Filled with adrenaline and a need to flee, but also overcome with the desire to see what lay within, Lourds grabbed his flashlight and dropped through the opening. He landed on his feet and headed for the stone chest. An inscription was chiseled in Arabic across the top: ‘God is great. We shall all meet in Paradise.’

Above, the bullets continued flying, and someone cut loose with an automatic weapon. The gun battle seemed surreal against the solid reality of the chest.

Lourds braced himself and pushed the lid off with a grunt, dropping it gently to the floor. He shined his flashlight inside. A richly decorated book covered in green leather and decorated with gold and silver filigree and precious gems lay beside an ancient roll of parchment.

Unable to stop himself, Lourds opened the parchment. The language was hard to read, but the promises of a global jihad and a supernatural fire claiming the world were prominent.

Then another man dropped into the room.

Lourds whirled to face him and realized only then that he had no means of protecting himself.

The man reached up and removed his keffiyeh. The bloody face was swollen and barely recognizable, but Lourds recognized him as the bearded man from Evin Prison. He held a machine pistol in one hand, the muzzle pointed at Lourds. He had his other wrapped around his middle.

‘Is that Mohammad’s Koran and the Scroll?’

‘I think so.’

‘What does the Scroll say?’

‘That Mohammad’s people should rise up and declare war on the world.’

The bearded man shook his head. ‘That’s unacceptable.’ He coughed and blood spewed from his mouth and down his chin. ‘Your lucky day, Professor. I cannot let that Book and Scroll fall into the hands of the enemies of Saudi Arabia. So I’m going to let you live to steal it from them.’ He took his hand from his middle, and it was covered with blood. ‘I can’t go on. But I can survive long enough to get you out of this place.’

Lourds carefully placed the Book and the Scroll under his robe and tied them into place. He felt fairly confident they would stay put as he moved.

‘How?’

‘Back out the way you came. I’ll give you cover.’ The bearded man coughed more blood and shoved a fresh magazine into his weapon. ‘Now we’ve got to move, or they’ll get brave. If they get their wits about them, they’ll surround this cistern and either shoot us or starve us out. There are only a couple left. I killed the rest.’

Lourds felt terrified, but he knew what the man said was true. ‘All right.’ He started for the ladder built into the wall that led to the opening.

‘I’ll go first, but you’d better be at my heels.’ The man pulled himself up the ladder with flagging strength. Just as he reached the top, a Guardsman shoved his gun and his head into the chamber. The bearded man shot the Guardsman point-blank in the face and waited till the falling body cleared the opening. Then, leading with his machine pistol, he pulled himself through.

Lourds followed, switching off his flashlight first because he knew it made him an instant target.

In the cistern, the bearded man grabbed the wall and heaved himself up. He looked back. ‘Hurry.’ He fired a long burst toward the far end of the cistern cavern.

Lourds climbed up and got his feet under him, instantly focusing on the barely illumined doorway ahead of him. The muzzle flashes, even sustained ones, didn’t provide much light.

‘Go!’ The man removed the magazine from his weapon and inserted a new one. Then he growled as at least one more bullet struck him.

Fighting panic, trying to keep his head clear, Lourds ran. He hated leaving the dying man behind, but the man was … dying. That had been evident from his injuries. Automatic fire thundered and filled the chamber, sending out echoes that rolled into the next cavern.

Once he cleared the cistern chamber, Lourds switched on his flashlight and ran for the hole in the wall. Before he reached it, the firing behind him died away. Then Davari’s voice filled the silence.

‘Lourds!’

Scurrying into the hole, Lourds crawled as fast as he was able. His elbows and knees bruised painfully. The Book and Scroll tied to his body made his efforts cumbersome. The sound of running feet followed him, but by then he’d already reached the turns, where a straight shot wouldn’t hit him.

Then he was at the hidden entrance by the steps. He slammed a hand into it and pushed it open. Legs under him again, he sprinted up the stairs, driving forward hard.

In the main room, the faithful slowed his pace and blocked his path, but he pushed through them, bumping and jostling and twice just running people down. When the bullets started flying, coming from behind him, the crowd hit the ground like they were practicing for an air raid.

Two men at the far end didn’t drop, though. They drew weapons and took up the chase.

Standing tall above the crowd, Lourds leaped over the last few people in his way. He saw bullets splinter the door ahead just before he ran through it. Heart pounding, ears burning, air whistling in his lungs, he took off down the streets.

Sprinting off the curb, he caused a pileup as a driver tried to brake to avoid hitting him and got rear-ended by the vehicle behind it. A taxi parked on the other side of the street. Lourds couldn’t change his stride or direction in time, so he leaped forward, sliding across the hood as bullets hammered its body and smashed through the windshield and windows.

As he rose to his feet, a body crashed into him from behind. The impact against the cobblestoned street drove the wind from his lungs and made his senses reel. The Guardsman who had tackled him tried to shove his pistol into Lourds’s face, but Lourds caught the man’s wrist in both hands. Only then did he realize that the impact had knocked the Book and the Scroll loose.

Horns blared around them, and shouts filled the street. Lourds struggled against his opponent, fueled by adrenaline and his desire to live. The Guardsman snarled curses, promising him God’s vengeance. Lourds twisted hard, forcing the man to drop the gun.

Someone else stepped in close to Lourds as he fought for his life. From the corner of his eye, he watched helplessly as Davari picked up the Book and Scroll. Then the colonel pointed his pistol at Lourds.

Panicked, not knowing what else to do, Lourds released his hold on the Guardsman and scrambled for safety. Before he could do more than turn over, the Guardsman hurled himself on top of Lourds again, taking them both back to the ground. Lourds’s chin struck the cobblestone, splitting open his skin. He felt warm blood flow as his head went sideways.

Pistol shots boomed and rolled. More blood cascaded down Lourds’s neck, and for a frenzied moment he thought it was from his. The Guardsman convulsed above him, though, and Lourds knew Davari had shot his own man in his zeal.

For a moment, Lourds remained still, knowing if he moved, he would be killed. Remaining unmoving, especially with panic racing through him, was almost impossible.

Davari ran, calling to the men that followed him.

Once they had gone, Lourds shoved the dead man off him. For an instant, he stood panting, watching helplessly as Davari got away with the prizes.

Are you going to stand here and let him get away? Lourds thought about Lev and how his friend had given his life to get the Book and the Scroll into safe hands. He thought of all the risks Alice had undertaken for something she didn’t even know about. He thought about how Davari had killed Professor Namati.

He thought about how Davari had tortured Miriam.

Davari can’t be allowed to take the Book back to Iran. Lourds took off in pursuit, driving his legs hard and feeling the steady drip of blood coming from his chin. His heart labored in his chest, but his stride lengthened and steadied.

Davari ran across the next street while holding a walkie-talkie to his mouth. Evidently he was trying to put together an alternate exit strategy.

The alley didn’t go through the neighborhood, though; Lourds knew that from all his visits with Lev. They’d walked all over Jerusalem, discussing the various historical and biblical events that had taken place there. Apparently Lourds knew the city much better than Davari did.

Angling away from the alley Davari had gone through, Lourds ran left, toward the next alley. The one Davari was in came around in a big U.

At the mouth of the next alley, Lourds dashed into a small tourist shop. The space was filled with T-shirts and souvenirs. A bin next to the doorway held umbrellas and walking sticks.

‘May I help you?’ A rotund little shopkeeper started from behind the counter.

‘Stay back or you’re going to get hurt.’ Lourds didn’t know if it was his bloody face or hearing the shots on the street that persuaded the man to back away, but he did retreat.

The man also snatched up a cell phone and called the police as he dropped behind the counter.

Tense and shaking, Lourds waited as the running footsteps grew louder. Angling his head, Lourds discovered he could see the alley reflected in the glass door that was propped open outside.

Davari was approaching fast, still talking on the walkie-talkie.

Desperate, Lourds reached into the bin and pulled out a curved walking stick. Turning back to the doorway, he stuck it out, caught Davari around the neck, and yanked the man into the shop as if he were he was hauling in a prize marlin.

Surprised and half-choked, Davari stumbled into the shop and slammed into a display rack of T-shirts, taking everything down with him.

Twisting the walking stick free, Lourds swung it into the face of the first Guardsman who tried to come through the door. The wood shattered upon impact, the Guardsman staggered backward, and Lourds’s hands went temporarily numb.

Confused and coughing, Davari desperately tried to fight free of the clothing rack. He lifted his pistol and pointed it at Lourds.

Moving on instinct, Lourds kicked the man’s gun hand and launched the pistol toward the opposite wall. The gun shattered the window and disappeared into the alley.

Bending down, he gathered up the Book and the Scroll, both of which had spilled across the floor. Lourds ran to the window, hurling himself onto the street as more Guardsmen poured into the room. Bullets chipped the window frame and slammed into the building across the alley. Then Lourds was outside and running for all he was worth.

He dashed down the first alley he came to and followed the twisting path between buildings, trying to figure out some goal, wondering if he had enough gas left in him to outrun his pursuers.

He risked a glance over his shoulder and instantly regretted it. Davari and three men had taken up the chase and were pacing him easily, like a pride of lions stalking an antelope.

Cutting around a corner, Lourds slipped on loose trash from a spilled container behind a restaurant. Spoiled vegetables turned into paste underfoot. He struggled to maintain his balance, couldn’t, and skidded across the rough paving stones, losing skin from his chin, his cheek, and his left hand.

He pushed himself up, grabbed the Scroll he’d dropped, managed to get to one knee, and watched helplessly as Davari and his men appeared out of the alley and pointed their weapons at him.

Then a slender figure in a burqa came out of nowhere and flung herself at the last Guardsman. She struck the man at the knees and he went down with a cry of alarm. As he dropped his weapon, Miriam scooped it up and came up on one knee with the pistol in both hands.

She pressed the pistol against the head of the fallen man and pulled the trigger. Blood spattered her face, but she didn’t even flinch as she brought the pistol up. The last two men turned at the unexpected gunshot. Her bullets caught them in the face and dropped them both where they stood.

Davari swung around, dropping into a crouch. Both of them fired at the same time. Miriam held her ground, and for a moment Lourds thought she’d been hit.

Then Davari sprawled forward, head turning so Lourds could see the bullet hole squarely between his staring eyes.

Miriam ran to him, helping him to his feet. ‘You got the Book and the Scroll?’

‘Yeah.’ Lourds held them up, his left hand torn and bloody.

They stepped out into the street, and a black sedan shrieked to a halt in front of them. The doors opened, and men in dark suits and earpieces opened the back doors. Lourds and Miriam looked at each other.

Aaron Jacob, president of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, sat in the backseat. ‘We meet again, Professor Lourds. I’d get in if I were you.’

Pushing Miriam ahead of him, Lourds fell into the back seat and struggled to get his breath back. He looked at Miriam as she stripped off the burqa and hijab.

Jacob smiled at Lourds as the car got under way and held out his hands. ‘I’ll take the Book and Scroll now, please.’

Lourds sighed and handed over both items. ‘Mossad?’

Jacob smiled. ‘I know some people that are. Reputedly.’

‘I don’t suppose I’m going to get to read those items, am I?’

‘You didn’t look at them?’

‘I looked at them enough. No one’s going to be able to prove that Mohammad himself wrote those documents because we don’t have any existing examples of his handwriting, but the message was clear enough to spin the world out of control if it had fallen into the Ayatollah’s hands.’

‘Thank God that didn’t happen. You understand that it would be better if no one ever sees these documents again?’

Lourds nodded. ‘It’s what Lev would have wanted.’

Jacob smiled in relief. ‘I’m glad you see it that way.’ He clapped Lourds on the shoulder.

Lourds winced in pain at the friendly contact, then swiveled his gaze to Miriam, relieved that she wasn’t hurt. ‘I have never had a graduate assistant who helped take work away from me. Especially work that would have impacted the world.’

‘You’ve probably never had a graduate assistant who saved your life before. Especially not as many times as I have these past few days. Starting with that little episode in Namchee Bazaar.’

‘That was you?’

‘Yes.’

Lourds leaned forward to hug her. ‘Thank you.’

She surprised him by turning her face up to be kissed.

When they parted, Lourds looked at her. ‘Maybe after this is over we could meet for dinner?’

‘To renew the friendship?’

‘Whatever you want it to be.’

She looked at him. ‘But it’ll never be any more than what it is.’

Lourds shook his head. ‘I’m a good friend, Miriam, but I’m not good for much more. There’s too much work I want to do, too many things I want to see.’

She took his hand. ‘I understand. And good friends are a rare pleasure.’

‘I’ve always thought so.’