The Deliverer (29 page)
“Now, stay strong and steady. Obediently do everything written in the book of the revelation of Moses. Don’t get mixed up with the nations that are still around.”
“We won’t mix in,” they shouted.
“Don’t so much as speak the names of their gods or swear by them.”
“You can count on us.”
“And by all means, don’t worship or pray to them. Hold tight to your God, just as you’ve done up to now.”
The crowd murmured their promise to be faithful.
“Now, hear me. Vigilantly guard your souls and love your God.”
I shuddered as Joshua said those words. Did Joshua know their souls were what Satan had been waiting for all this time, or was that just a lucky guess?
“If you wander off and intermarry or take up with these remaining nations still among you, know for certain that God will not get rid of them when they become a curse for you—as they surely will—until you’re the ones who will be driven out of this good land God has given you.”
“We would never do such a thing,” several of the priests said in unison.
“How could we disobey our God who has brought us here?”
Through his aged eyes, Joshua looked to and fro among the people gathered around him. He took his final breath and spoke the warning one more time.
“If you leave the path of the covenant of your God that He commanded and go off and serve and worship other gods, His righteous anger will blaze out against you. He will leave you to the ravages of the gods you choose. He will not save you. There’ll be nothing left of you and no sign that you’ve ever been in this good land He gave you.”
“There is no God but the God of Israel.” The crowd cheered.
Joshua looked into the faces of the people gathered around him and then closed his eyes for the last time.
I closed mine as well, but for a different reason. I felt a cold chill down my spine, and I knew Satan was watching every move from the rim of the second heaven. Someone must have told him I was gone, and he put two and two together and figured out it must be time for Joshua to die. He didn’t wait for my report. After all, hanging out until Joshua died was all that held him back, and it was obvious he wanted to see the action firsthand.
I wondered if I should try to warn God of what was coming. He hadn’t been around that much since Israel was at peace with her enemies. He might be giving Israel far more credit for the ability to self-govern than was warranted. He must have known that last admonition from Joshua to the people about not worshiping other gods was going to be the exact place where Satan would go after them.
If I could alert Him to something He’d overlooked, He might be grateful. I decided to give it a try. I slipped away from Joshua’s tent and found a big rock in the desert. I knelt down behind it and hoped Satan wouldn’t be able to see me.
“Pssst, God,” I whispered as loud as I dared. “This is, well, never mind who this is. I thought I’d better warn You of what’s about to happen down here. I know how You sometimes have a tendency to forgive and forget, at least where the humans are concerned. But Satan never forgets anything, not even the slightest offense. He’s been waiting for this chance. Your Jews don’t have a leader right now. You might want to appoint some judges or a king maybe, someone with an official position who can tell them what to do. Satan’s about to go after them through his demigods. I’ve seen this happen before—whole nations succumb in a day to Baal or Ashtera.”
If God heard me, He ignored me.
I was flapping my way back to the second heaven when I felt the atmosphere tremble. Soon I was in position to see brigade after brigade as Satan unleashed his soul-starved hordes back into the earth realm to go after the people of God.
The seduction of Israel was about to begin.
S
AMANTHA WAS SILENTLY
rehearsing her opening line when the voice on the phone abruptly ended the elevator music that had been playing while she was on hold.
“Jonathan Marks here,” the voice said without emotion.
“Dr. Marks, this is Dr. Samantha Yale from the University of Jerusalem. Thank you for taking my call.”
Samantha had wrestled with her conscience for several days before deciding to contact the highly regarded paleontologist, New Testament scholar, and expert on religious relics and objects of antiquity.
“I’m happy to speak with you, Dr. Yale. How can I help you?”
Rehearsing her opening line was proving to be of little help as she found herself searching for the right words to begin the conversation.
“Dr. Yale?”
“Yes, I’m here. Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Dr. Marks, out of respect for your time, let me come right to the point. I’ve come into possession of some very ancient scrolls that appear to have been written in cuneiform.”
That’s good, Sam. Spill the whole thing in fifteen seconds. Don’t give him any time to warm up to the idea.
“I see. Well, now, that would be interesting and very unlikely since, as you know, cuneiform predates papyrus by at least a thousand years.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“Then, how can I help you, Dr. Yale?”
“I’ve been retained to translate the writing, which I’ve done. However, at some point, the authenticity of the scrolls themselves as genuine relics will need corroboration. I was hopeful you might be interested in taking a look at them.”
Jonathan hesitated.
Don’t bring up the Torah codes; don’t bring up the Torah codes.
She squinted and crossed her fingers.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the Torah codes, would it?”
She opened her squinted eyes and rolled them at the ceiling.
One little request—is that too much to ask?
“No, Dr. Marks. This is an unrelated matter.”
“You said you have physical possession of the scrolls now?”
“Yes, that’s right.” She decided to say nothing more until he moved the conversation forward.
It’s your ball, Dr. Marks. Are you going to play?
“When would you like for me to examine them?”
“Yes!” she whispered as she raised her arms in a victory pose, making sure he didn’t hear her excitement.
“I’m not certain. The scrolls are privately owned. I need permission from the owner, and to be perfectly candid, I’m not sure he will agree.”
“Then, why are you contacting me?”
“The owner is an eccentric who, in my opinion, may border on paranoia. If the scrolls are authentic, they are historically priceless. Should he agree to let me seek peer-level confirmation, I would need to move quickly before he could change his mind or disappear altogether. That’s why I chose to speak with you first.”
“How long before you can know whether he will agree or not?”
“I wish I could tell you.”
Now there’s a real confidence builder, Sam. Go for broke; try to explain Wonk Eman.
“This is going to sound odd, I know, but I have no way of contacting the owner. I have to wait until he gets in touch with me.”
“So, you have no idea what sort of time frame we’re talking about?”
“No. It could be days or weeks, but if I should be successful in getting the owner’s permission to have you examine the scrolls, would you be willing to take a look at them?”
“Yes, Dr. Yale. I’ll help any way I can.”
The relief in her voice was audible. “Thank you so much, Dr. Marks. I’ll be in touch when I have more to share. Until then, ciao.”
Samantha hung up the phone and let out a long sigh. There was nothing else for her to do except wait until the elusive Wonk Eman reappeared. “I have a feeling I won’t be waiting long.” She leaned back in her leather chair, closed her eyes, and thought about the last words of the scroll.
The seduction of Israel was about to begin.
Samantha answered the phone on the first ring.
“Dr. Yale?”
“Wonk?” she blurted before she could stop herself. It had been a month since her conversation with Jonathan Marks. Where had he been all this time?
“How did you know it was me?”
“Let’s say I’m psychic.” She waited for him to laugh, but he didn’t. “Never mind. I was expecting to hear from you soon—sooner actually. That’s all.”
“Have you translated the scrolls?”
I’m fine. Thanks for asking, and you?
“Yes, I have.” Best to overlook his lack of telephone etiquette.
Long pause.
“Do you believe what you read?”
“Believe? I’m not sure I know what you’re asking.”
“Do you believe things happened that way? Like it says in the scrolls.”
Choose your words carefully, Sam. Remember he’s a flight risk.
“Wonk, do you know the difference between a myth and something historically authentic?”
“Are you accusing me of lying, Dr. Yale?”
“You? Why, of course not. We’re not talking about you. I mean the story in the scrolls—that’s all.”
“It’s a diary.”
“Yes, I remember you said that before.” She paused and then decided to press on. “Anyway, a myth is something that may or may not be true but can’t be proven. The scrolls contain a myth—albeit a captivating one—but it would be careless to assume the story describes actual events.”
Silence.
“I expected more from you, Dr. Yale.”
“I’m sorry, Wonk. I don’t want to minimize what you’ve got because it is quite extraordinary—no doubt about that.”
“Do you want to see more?”
“More scrolls? How many more are there?”
“Do you want to see more?”
“Yes, yes, of course I do.”
Deep breath, reassuring voice, ready, go.
“In fact, Wonk, I wonder if you would allow a colleague of mine to examine the scrolls … to confirm my translation.”
“No.”
“But I assure you he would be discreet.”
“No.”
“Wonk, Dr. Marks is at the top of his field. If he verifies the age of the scrolls, it could easily … ”
“Especially not Dr. Marks.”
“How do you know Jonathan Marks?” She tried for nonchalance.
“You gave me your word, Dr. Yale.”
“And I intend to abide by it. I was only thinking of your benefit … to bring additional credibility to the value of what you have.”
No response. Maybe he was thinking it over.
The ticking grandfather clock in her office told her he had been silent for a full minute, far outside her ten-second rule.
“Wonk?”
“If you don’t keep your word—if you don’t finish the translation—I’ve risked everything to bring it to you.” He picked up the sentence as if there hadn’t been an interminably long silence.
“I told you I would keep my word.”
“You don’t know how important they are. They must not be destroyed before the translation is complete.”
“Destroyed? Wonk, listen to me. The scrolls are safe with me. Forget what I said about Dr. Marks. Send the additional scrolls to me as soon as you can.”
“Yes, all right. I have to trust you. You must be there to personally receive them.”
“I’ll wait for them just like before.”
She knew this was a good time to end the conversation, while they had agreement and he had calmed down, but her curiosity as a Torah scholar won out over safety.
“Wonk, just one more thing. It’s about Og, the Nephilim king. I researched him, and it turns out you were right that he may have survived Noah’s flood, but his death is later chronicled in the Old Testament.”
More silence.
“I only bring it up because you were so disturbed that he had somehow remained alive. I thought it would make you feel safer to know he’s no threat to you. He died thousands of years ago.”
“Demonic beings do not die. Only the human part of him died.”
“I see.” If she went further she knew she risked agitating him again. “I just wanted you to know I’d looked into it.”
“Thank you, Dr. Yale. I know this all seems strange to you; you’d understand if I could tell you everything, but I can’t. You just don’t know me; you don’t know who I am. That’s all I can say. Good-bye, Dr. Yale.”
Samantha carefully placed the black phone in its cradle, leaned back in her chair, and breathed a sigh of relief that things were on track. Glancing back to the phone, she smiled as she spoke to the disconnected caller.
“Actually, Wonk, you just don’t know who I am.”
