Pandora's Ark (2 page)

While the priests continued to kneel by the Ark, dust cascaded from the ceiling, showering them until their cloaks became the color of
sand. And then with a final shudder the entrance collapsed with tons of falling
rock blocking the way, the corridor imploding as thick, cloying dust raced into
the chamber in a plume.

And then with a final shudder the shaking stopped,
the chamber now a dust-laden cavern with no way in or out. A horrible silence
fell over them.

One of the priests got to his feet, a fledging. The
look on his face was incredulous with the realization that the fate of his life
had been determined by the twist of an old man’s hand. “But why?” he asked
him. 

The old man placed the torch within its holder, and
then ventured closer to the priests who were now standing. “Please forgive me,”
he said. “I couldn’t allow Shishak the right to bear the Ark.”

“But there are the Shields of Solomon and the other
treasures?”

“This is the
only
treasure,” he countered.

“And what about our lives?” asked another. “You
didn’t even grant us the opportunity to save ourselves.”

“I couldn’t afford to,” said Abraham. His tone was
truly sorrowful, but not repentant. “If Shishak got hold of any of you, then he
would have stripped the flesh from your bones to obtain the whereabouts of the Ark.”

The old priest closed his eyes with his palms held
ceiling-ward, and then turned toward the Ark. “This is bigger than all of us,”
he told them. “Is it not better to die in the presence of God than by the hands
of the Pharaoh Shishak?”

The other priests bowed their heads, one by one,
with each man coming to terms that the elder priest was right. Dying in the
presence of God was Glory compared to the tortuous blades of Shishak.

In unison, the Keepers of the Ark began to pray. 

#

Jerusalem
had fallen
, the bodies of its
citizens lying in waste in city streets, their blood running and becoming one
with the blood-red sky as Shishak ordained. In the end it was not an omen of
ill fate as thought by Darius, but an oracle of glory sent by Ra. This Shishak
was sure of.

As the Egyptian king led his league of soldiers
toward the Temple, the color of the morning sky was no longer red, but blue,
with towering pillars of black smoke reaching skyward toward the emerging
new-day sun. Jerusalem was burning. 

The Temple Mount was exquisite, even by Shishak’s
standards who ultimately respected Egyptian architecture. The Temple itself was
a massive complex of stone arches and monumental columns. The towering walkways
and wide staircases that took worshippers to grand hallways that seemed endless
mesmerized Shishak to the point where he felt somewhat remorseful in defeating
a city so rich in the complexity of its structure and beauty. At one point he
even considered imbibing this architectural culture into his. But then he
quickly dismissed the notion, sensing that this culture would only tend to
belittle Egyptian sophistication.    

Once at the Holy Temple, Shishak remained upon his
horse for a long moment before getting off his steed, placed his hands against
the door as if to learn the secrets within through osmosis, then gestured for
his troops to knock it down.

It took nearly an hour, but the door was destroyed,
the wood lying in splintered pieces, the opening giving way to a dark
passageway that led to the depths beneath the Temple Mount.

With his torch ablaze, Darius moved toward the
darkness with his light piercing little of the descending stairway. “The
Chamber lies deep,” he told Shishak. “We’ll need many to carry the treasures,
especially the Ark.”

“The Ark is first and foremost,” he said. “Make
sure great caution is taken.”

“Aye.”

They descended slowly with several torches lighting
the way, the stairs well maintained. Once at the bottom they noticed the
dust-laden floor, which seemed odd when the rest of the complex was immaculate,
especially for a place of great worship. As they entered the Chamber they were
awed by the vastness of wealth, which was far more considerable than they
originally thought. Lined against the walls were the Shields of Solomon, a
pillager’s dream. And throughout lay conical-shaped mounds of gold coins as
well as gems of every size, of every color and shape. Yet they did not appear
opulent or bright. The color of gold was instead muted, the shine hindered by
heavy dust that continued to eddy in the air. 

Shishak moved to the center of the room. The space
was empty. “Where is the Ark, Darius? You said it would be in the room’s
center.”

Darius made his way beside him. “They moved it,” he
said. ”There isn’t an open spot within this whole Chamber, except for this
area.”

“If that was so,” said Shishak, “then there would
be evidence that something was recently moved, yet the floor remains heavy with
dust without a hint that something was ever here at all.” Shishak took a few steps
to his left and lifted a golden pot of manna. The ground beneath it was clear
of dust, the evidence that the pot was there while dust gathered around its
base prominent, his point made. He tossed the pot aside. “It was never here,”
he finally said. “Grab everything and make ready for transport. These treasures
should be residing in a temple of a true god.”

“Aye.”

“And, Darius?”

“Aye.”

“If one soldier steals a single coin, I want you to
execute him on the spot and make an example of him to the others. And
especially watch the Sukkites. Mercenaries seem to have a weakness for profit
that is not their own.” 

“Aye.”

As the treasures were being gathered, Shishak
wondered what happened to the Ark, never realizing that it was less than one
hundred meters from where he stood.

CHAPTER ONE

Near the Temple Mount, Jerusalem, Present Day

Adham al-Ghazi had been searching for the Ark of the
Covenant for several years, reading every written piece of work regarding its
whereabouts and exploring the true possibility of its existence. He had gone to
the Sanctuary Chapel in Saint Mary of Zion's Church in Axum, Ethiopia, only to find the Ark to be a duplicate. He also traveled to Elephantine, Egypt, and to locales throughout the Arab world only to uncover replicas ranging from the poorly
fabricated to adequate imitations.

The last remaining location to excavate lay beneath
the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, which had been declared by Israeli and Arab
factions as
their
sovereign territory. But in reality it remained a
region in limbo since the United States refused to acknowledge the land as
strictly Israel’s, even though it remained under their control.

For over a year al-Ghazi had quietly worked his way
beneath Jerusalem by stitch-boring a lengthy tunnel. And though the process was
quiet, it was still vulnerable to detection. With acquired and detailed notes
and possible GPS coordinates acquired from Iranian intelligence, he spent many
long nights calculating within certainty the Chamber’s precise location.

Once they had drilled to within one hundred yards
of the location, and in fear of alerting the Israelis by the vibrations meted
out by the drills, they labored tediously with pickaxes and shovels from that
point on, the momentum becoming glacially slow.   

However, al-Ghazi’s patience would soon prove to be
fruitful.

Day after day and night after night the pickaxes
swung. And al-Ghazi watched as his hands never touched an instrument of labor.
After all, he was a high-ranking lieutenant with al-Qaeda.

He had been involved with planning several attacks
against Israeli and American objectives, as well as anyone associated with
either faction. Prior to Bin Laden’s assassination in Pakistan, he had been asked by the former leader to plan out and head the excavation for
the Ark. For what reason he didn’t know, nor did he dare ask questions.

The man was tall and lean, wearing clothes that
were always immaculately clean and pressed, even within the tunnels where dirt
seemed to constantly flow through the air, but somehow repelled by the man who
never seemed to get dirty or sweat. His face was thin, his beard meticulously
shaped, and his eyes appeared dark and moody and filled with a quiet intensity.
However, he was patient to the core, which was a deadly concoction when mixed
with a black desire to kill for a cause.

Standing over a table bearing maps and compasses,
the air around him cloyingly thick and hot, the chamber beneath the ground in
which he stood lit only by a string of bulbs that offered feeble lighting at
best, he seemed unaffected as he studied the details of the mapped progress.
Lines had been drawn in red, noting that they were nearing the Temple Mount. With the progress using pickaxes, he considered at best another two to three
months if they worked around the clock.

The man clenched his jaw, the muscles working. It
was the only sign of his impatience, thus far.

A worker, skinny and dirty with the grime of earth,
entered the chamber with a pickaxe in hand, his breathing labored. From his
point of view al-Ghazi seemed more like a shadow in the dim light. “Commander,
we broke through.”

Al-Ghazi raised a brow in reservation.
“Impossible,” he said. “We still have thirty meters to go.”

The man nodded. “We found
a
chamber.”

Al-Ghazi ran a finger over the charts and numbers.
There was no way his configuration was incorrect. If there was an adjoining
chamber, then it was not within the schematics provided.

“Have you looked inside?” he finally asked.

The laborer nodded. “The light would only penetrate
so deep. But the area appears large.” The man bowed his head in homage to
al-Ghazi. “We thought it would be better if you entered first, since the glory
of the discovery is yours.”   

When al-Ghazi passed the man he gave him a pat upon
the shoulder. “You considered well, my friend.”

The tunnel leading to the opening in the wall was
well bored, the walls rough, but enough space to move freely about without
bending at the waist. Once at the passageway, the other laborers gave him a
wide berth.

A laborer then handed him a heavy-duty flashlight
that had the advertised capacity of lighting an area with the same power as
10,000 candles. Yet it was incapable of penetrating deep into the cavern.

“It’s definitely a hollow chamber,” he said. “But
it’s not
the
Chamber.”

With guarded prudence al-Ghazi entered the room
with his flashlight scoping the area and the immediate ground in front of him.

Pressing on he noted a glint of light—a spangle of
gold—from the corner of his eye before it winked out and disappeared. Adjusting
the flashlight to the source of the glitter it cast upon something not quite
decipherable in the darkness. Whatever it was lay just beyond the light’s
fringe, but a form nonetheless.

As he moved closer the flashlight began to give the
artifact shape, contour and clarity. And in an instant he knew he had finally
found the true Ark of the Covenant.

He had read all the ancient tablets, texts and
scrolls pertaining to the whereabouts of the Ark, as well as the Bible and
Quran only to find the locations documented by witnesses who had most likely
seen replicas and duplicates. But never was there any mention of a room
connected to the main chamber beneath the Temple Mount. And since the room did
not exist by historical reference, al-Ghazi concluded that the true Ark was never meant to be found. By the luck of Allah, he found it by serendipity.

The Arab moved closer, the Ark dulled by years of
collecting dust, but pure in essence. With his flashlight he moved its beam
over the Ark and along its base, noting the skeletal remains of the Ark’s Keepers. For 3000 years the cloth of their robes degenerated, leaving nothing but
swatches of fabric awkwardly entwined around bone. And for 3000 years their
secret was safe.

Until now
, he thought.

Lifting a hand to the Ark, he let his fingers graze
softly over the wings of the cherubim figures and smiled. To touch the Ark was certain death, which was chronicled in just about every written piece of document
in existence. But here he was, a hand gliding over the actual Ark of the
Covenant sensing no heat, no cold, nor a static charge of electricity. It was
simply gold and nothing more than a vintage scarecrow that kept the masses in
line and their blind faith intact. Or so he believed. Nevertheless, such a
treasure would harbor more than just faith and hope. It would soon hold death
and darkness. 

“Remove the cap,” he ordered.

Four men that looked as if they had mined for days
without bathing, their bodies shining with sweat and grime, carefully pushed
the cap to one side, then lifted it and gingerly placed the lid on the ground
between the skeletal remains of two Keepers.

Inside the Ark lay more treasures.

Lying untouched for three millennia were four
items: a gold pot filled with the dust of something having perished over time;
the staff belonging to Aaron, the brother of Moses; and two stone tablets
written in the language of Adam, the Ten Commandments.

Even though he was a non-believer, al-Ghazi seemed
awed by the discovery in what appeared to be reverence.

With a great measure of prudence al-Ghazi lifted
one of the tablets, the writing well preserved, and traced his fingers over the
engraved words.

“Written by the fingers of God,” he commented
softly to no one in particular. And then he returned the tablet to the Ark with the same care of laying a baby within its crib. “We’ll take the tablets,” he
added. “But leave the staff and the golden pot as proof to the Israelis that
the Ark has been discovered and that we’re in possession of it. And be careful
transporting it!”

Bowing their heads in acknowledgment, the miners
removed the original poles, which had become brittle and flaked when touched,
and replaced them with metal rods.

Within the hour the Ark was removed from the
chamber with the staff of Aaron and the golden pot left behind, and loaded onto
the back of a canvassed truck more than a mile beyond the Temple Mount.

As the truck carried away the item fully covered in
cloth, al-Ghazi got on an untraceable satellite phone and dialed a number
locked into its memory. Within three chimes
al-Zawahiri
answered, once a conduit to Bin Laden, who asked al-Ghazi if Allah smiled down
upon him on this day.

Al-Ghazi was as giddy as
a child who could hardly contain himself, but forced the issue that he was a
soldier and needed to act accordingly, which meant stoically. “By the graces of
Allah, we have found the Ark,” he said.

“But is it the true Ark?”

“No doubt,” he returned.
“It was right under the noses of the Israelis all the time in an uncharted
chamber. By the will of Allah, it was meant to fall into our hands.”

“Good job, Adham. The
principals will be pleased now that our efforts have paid off and our patience
soon to be rewarded.”

“Just to let you know, my
friend, we’re returning to the base with the cargo.”

Al-Zawahiri seemed
pleased. “Then I’ll notify the rest of our constituencies and inform them of
your success.” he said. “And continue on with the next stage.”

Al-Ghazi took in a breath
of the hot desert air and relished it, like something intoxicating, then released
it in a very long and soothing sigh. Closing his eyes, he bid al-Zawahiri the
blessings of Allah and terminated the call.