Indisputable Proof (21 page)

Jade looked at him incredulously. “Tolen, are you not influenced by what we’ve discovered, what we’ve seen? The ancient Hebrew clues, the cathedral-like cave in Costa Rica with the incredible frescoes, the underground cave system here on Patmos; I can tell you it’s caused me to contemplate things in a different light. Have you considered that the stone rooms and corridors under the Petra may have been the cave where the Apostle John saw the vision of Jesus and received the inspiration to write Revelations? It was said John heard God’s word from such a fissure in the cave wall. If you recall, the main room with the faces on the pilasters where the corkscrew tunnel emptied had a gaping crevice which led out to the passageway. It fits the description perfectly.”

Tolen nodded. “Yes, it does, but consider the sickly sweet smell we surmised was some form of accelerant under the bedding of branches and twigs on the floor. I believe when that underground cavern and passageway were first carved out by the Greeks long before the Christian era—as you so astutely surmised—the floor was already holding some natural fluid, possibly crude oil, which had seeped up from the earth. If the Apostle John were down there for more than an hour, the concentrated fumes would have made him lightheaded, causing him to hallucinate. Combine his impaired state and the early Greek artwork on the pilaster with the faces of men contorted in agony, and, in his delusional state, he might have easily gotten the idea for the horrific story of Revelations.”

Jade countered, “But we found Joseph of Arimathea. We found the twelve Apostles. Isn’t the evidence more compelling than ever?”

“Jade, we found the remains of men mentioned in the Bible. We have not found concrete evidence of Jesus Christ, and despite the fact mankind has been collecting artifacts related to Christ for two thousand years, none of them hold up under scrutiny. I have to say, in that regard, the ‘True Sons of Light’ are right. Quite probably, mankind
is
perpetuating a lie. Consider that Jesus was said to be nailed to the cross by three, maybe four, nails. Yet there are 30 ‘holy nails’ in storage across Europe which are revered as holy objects. There are also enough wood chips from the
true cross
spread across the European continent to build an entire city block of houses. Also, neither the Shroud of Turin nor the Sudarium of Oviedo can be carbon dated to the 1
st
century. Most recently was the discovery of the 70 lead codices which referred to Jesus found in a cave in Jordan. They were thought to have dated to the 1
st
century until it became clear from the multiple dialects that, in all probability, they had been forged within the past fifty years. The physical evidence just doesn’t pan out. Your own Stephen Hawking put it best when he said the notion of an afterlife is wishful thinking for those afraid of death.”

There was a knock on the door, and Tolen answered. It was Diaz. He was carrying a cup of coffee, and he plopped down at the table. Diaz was in casual attire, sporting long pants, a baggy collared pullover, and a corduroy jacket. “Feeling better?” he asked, looking at Jade.

She nodded. She saw no reason to continue the conversation with Tolen, especially in front of Diaz. Instead, she looked to the table where Diaz was now leaning back, taking another sip of coffee. “Have you looked at the roll?”

Tolen strolled to the table and lifted the jar delicately. “No, we were waiting for you to wake up.” He gently removed the cap—another small bust of a man—removed the tiny rolled parchment with two fingers, and handed it to Jade. He then tilted the jar, and several pieces of yellowish fragments fell into his palm. As expected, it was gold. He returned them to the jar and recapped it, placing the jar back on the table. He looked at it for a moment curiously.

“What’s the matter?” Diaz asked.

“Although this jar appears to be the same size as the Costa Rica jar, it feels considerably heavier,” Tolen said, “and not just because the contents differ. I believe the jar is thicker. Interesting.”

Jade paid little attention to his remark. She was concentrating on the tiny roll in her hands. The paper felt brittle and aged. Here was another piece of forgotten history, she mused. Similar to the others, the tightly wound parchment bore the same brown discoloration. She held it for a long moment without moving. According to the message inside the stone sphere they recovered from the Harvard courtyard, this was the second of three stone jars. After this one, they had one more to find. Sitting in a hotel room on a Greek island with an America CIA operative and a Spanish police inspector about to continue on a 2,000-year-old treasure hunt seemed more surreal than real. She briefly closed her eyes and then reopened them to make sure she was awake.

Tolen retook a seat beside her. Again, his cologne wafted into her nostrils. The invigorating scent merged with Jade’s rising anticipation of reading the clue.

They were actually doing this. They were well on their way to making the most remarkable discovery in the history of mankind. The thought of it caused a tingle to rush up her spine. She fought to discard the shiver without the men noticing.

She unrolled the small parchment, taking considerable care not to tear the material. Again, there was Hebrew text. She read it aloud:

Of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, only the Son is charged with holding the contents on high where the ancients knew no god but themselves in the desert. Travel from the north. As David faced the lion, you will face the lion incarnate. Aim at the one on the left, and dig at his right foot. There you will gain entry to the Holiest of Highs. The third jar marks the end of your journey, but all three will be needed.

The clue was vague and certainly more convoluted than the last one. Her mounting hope turned into complete confusion. She looked to Tolen, hoping he might regale her with knowledge of what the text meant.

His expression was bland. It was clear he was just as baffled as she was.

She looked to Diaz who could only offer a shrug.

The only consolation was the last line. It was specific. In essence, it said,
find the third jar and you’re there
.

If only they knew where
there
was.

CHAPTER 36

September 13. Thursday – 3:41 a.m. Isle of Patmos, Greece

Time was running out. They had just over 30 hours to return the Sudarium to the Cathedral of San Salvador in Oviedo, Spain.

Tolen lay in bed fully clothed with the lights off in a room next to Jade’s. Diaz was in the next room over from her. They were exhausted and had agreed to get a couple of hours rest before continuing.

Tolen’s body was wracked with sore muscles and bruises. Fatigue had set in. Since their next move was unclear, though, he fought against sleep, trying to figure out how they should proceed.

He had continued to dwell on the blown opportunity with the two assailants at the Petra, berating himself for having been so unprepared not to consider an escape via the bay. He had obviously not been thinking clearly. To have any chance of success, he had to galvanize his focus on the matters at hand.

His cell phone rang.

“Tolen,” he answered, retrieving it from the nightstand, feeling an ache in his tricep.

“Hey, did I wake you?”

“Not at all, Ms. Bar,” he said, sitting up on the side of the bed in the dark.

“I visited the Roanoke Laboratory where Aaron Conin worked. I confiscated his PC and searched his desk. I found a small capped vial taped under his drawer containing several fibers. They were barely visible to the human eye. I had it analyzed and just got the results minutes ago. The chemical content and makeup are identical to threads examined several years ago from the Sudarium. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any data related to it on Conin’s PC. Either he never had a chance to conduct the tests, or he thoroughly erased all the records. I have the techies trying to recover all deleted files now.”

“Bar, when was Conin murdered?” Tolen asked as he absorbed the information Bar had fed him.

“August 24
th
.”

Tolen allowed Bar’s words to sink in.

“Oh, crap!” Bar said. “How did Aaron Conin have access to the Sudarium before it was stolen on August 30th?”

“Exactly,” Tolen said. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Also,” Bar continued, “remember the receipt you found on Gordon Nunnery from the cleaner in Switzerland? It was dated December 9
th
. Well, last year, on that same day, your attackers—archaeologists Richard Mox and physicist Gordon Nunnery—flew into Zurich International Airport; and get this: Boyd Ramsey also flew in that same day, but I can’t trace where any of them went after they arrived in Switzerland. None were booked into a hotel, hostel, or any place else I could find.”

“Did you look outside the city at surrounding towns?”

Bar chuckled. “I checked the entire country of Switzerland. They weren’t registered anywhere. For one night, they fell off the grid. The next day, all three men flew out to their respective home countries.”

“What about Aaron Conin? Was he in Switzerland?”

“No, and beyond the fact he had fibers from the Sudarium and Ramsey made a phone call to him, I still don’t know his relationship to anyone involved.”

“Speaking of Boyd Ramsey,” Bar continued, “you asked about his fingerprints at the Oviedo and Costa Rica crime scenes and on the communiqué sent to the Spanish press. Strangely, the print in all three cases—the partials and the full print—are from Ramsey’s ring finger on his left hand. Do you think they were planted?”

“I’d rather not speculate.”

“Vakind was able to convince President Fane to hold off escalating the terror alert until 12 hours before the Sudarium is to go on display. That gives you...18 hours to find the Sudarium and return it to Oviedo for the start of the Feast of the Cross.”

Tolen released a silent sigh. Diaz had been right. They had spent too much time on a treasure hunt which had diverted Tolen from his primary objective: securing the Sudarium. With 18 hours until the first potential strike against U.S. citizens, Tolen still had no idea where Boyd Ramsey or the Sudarium were. Time was now his enemy, and given the fact that thread samples from the Sudarium were found in Conin’s lab, his assumption that the holy relic had never left Europe now appeared wrong. Again he scolded himself for getting so far off track.

“But the best is yet to come,” Bar continued. “The Honduran company, Gurkha, provided the names of the people who purchased the Black Dragon cigars like the one found partially smoked in Richard Mox’s house. Of the five boxes, two were purchased by one man: billionaire Simon Anat. Perhaps not un-coincidentally, Mr. Anat lives in—”

“—Dietikon, Switzerland.” Tolen finished her thought. “He is a Hungarian shipping magnate; the fourth richest man in the world with net worth hovering around $29 billion.”

Bar continued the thought. “Exactly. Simon Anat used to be quite a public figure but has become a recluse within the last two years. He’s stopped conducting interviews, attending benefits, or participating in any philanthropic activities. No one’s gotten a photograph of him in over a year and a half.”

There was no hesitation from Tolen. “Bar, please contact Reba Zee and have her prepare for takeoff. I’ll be leaving for Zurich, Switzerland immediately. Let her know I’ll be at the tarmac in 20 minutes.”

“I’ve already taken the liberty of contacting Reba Zee. The plane is fueled and waiting to go.”

Tolen hung up his phone. He sat on the edge of the bed still in the dark. The room was quiet except for the droning of the air conditioner. Light was shining through the bottom of his door from the hallway. A momentary shadow passed, and then the light returned.

****

As tired as Jade was, her sore back was interfering with her sleep. The muscle relaxer Tolen had prescribed had taken the edge off the pain, but she still felt a dull throb. She faded in and out of sleep, nudged awake every so often by a stab of discomfort. After a short while, she gave up trying. Instead, she focused on the clue from the last jar. She had already read it so many times she had it memorized:

Of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, only the Son is charged with holding the contents on high where the ancients knew no god but themselves in the desert. Travel from the north. As David faced the lion, you will face the lion incarnate. Aim at the one on the left and dig at his right foot. There you will gain entry to the Holiest of Highs. The third jar marks the end of your journey, but all three will be needed.

Jade rolled over on her back, feeling a sting. She stared up at the dark ceiling.

The three had discussed the text for some time. Their mutual conclusion was the cache of Jesus’ objects would be found somewhere in Israel. The reference to “desert” made the task of deciphering the clue even more daunting. Sixty percent of the country was desert: the Negev Desert alone covered 55 percent of the land mass of Israel, or roughly 4,700 square miles, and the Negev’s landscape is not inviting, consisting of a mix of rocky mountains, plateaus, and deep craters punctuated with dry riverbeds.

The reference to “
lion
” was intriguing. She recalled Dr. Cherrigan once discussing the use of the term in the Bible where lions are mentioned repeatedly; the most notable being the story of Daniel in the lions’ den. Lions were also frequently used as an allegory to represent strength, celestial good, and celestial truth.

Also intriguing was the clue which mentioned all three jars would be needed. The jar they found in Costa Rica containing myrrh was secure aboard the plane in the cabin locker. She wondered if there might have been something else about the jar they missed. What was it Tolen had said: the second jar felt heavier than the first, as if made thicker.

Jade heard a
tink
that startled her. It had come from the door. She turned her head to the side. There was another faint
tink
sound. She was just about to call out and ask who was there when she heard a click, and the door popped open enough to allow a sliver of light to come in from the hallway.

Jade closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, but her pulse was suddenly racing. She considered screaming. If the intruder had a gun, she would be dead before Tolen or Diaz arrived. Instead, she lay motionless, her heartbeat screaming in her ears. She dared a look through slitted eyes. The door pushed open, sending the hallway light into the room, backlighting the figure. The dark form moved silently inside the room, closing the door behind. The only light now was a thin line of white seeping in from under the door. The figure paused, as if appraising the dark room.

Jade’s mind spun in dizzying circles. She tried to think how she could defend herself like this: lying down without a weapon. She was completely vulnerable. She tried to remain calm and think of options, but nothing came to her. Restraining her breathing caused her nearly to hyperventilate.

The shadowy figure moved to the table and seemed to be feeling around in the dark.

Jade involuntarily held her breath. Once she realized what she was doing, it was too late. There was no way to exhale without being heard in the still room. She held her breath knowing each second she retained air, she would eventually be forced to release it with an even greater push and, no doubt, be heard. Her lungs began to ache.

At the table, the figure had lifted something and was examining it in the dim light.

The burning in her lungs grew intense.

The figure placed the object down and slowly moved to the bureau. In the scant light, Jade stole a peek and thought she saw the person holding a handgun. Her lungs now screamed for air.

Just when Jade had exhausted her air and knew she could hold it no longer, the door of her room burst open. A figure rushed inside, catching the intruder’s face in the beam of a flashlight. The two ran at each other and collided, tumbling into the wall. There was a high-pitched scream and a torrent of knocks. Jade expelled the air and scurried to her feet, nearly knocking down the nightstand lamp as she frantically sought the switch to turn it on.

In an instant, the room was lit. The commotion against the wall had died down. Samuel Tolen held onto a woman from behind as he raised her to her feet. The woman’s long, black disheveled hair fell across her angular face as she struggled to break free. She was of average height and build, with pale-colored skin, clad in dark coveralls like a car mechanic. Tolen’s grasp was firm and after a moment, the woman gave up trying to escape.

Tolen moved her to the table, kicked a chair out, and plopped the intruder down in the seat. “Sit,” he ordered firmly, his tone acrimonious. He took a position between her and the doorway, after he locked it from the inside.

The woman spoke in a foreign language. Jade was sure it was French.

“Laissez aller de moi. J’ai rien fait de mal.”

Surprisingly to Jade, Tolen responded in the same language. “Pour commencer, comment a propos d’effraction?”

“Si vous ne me laissez pas aller, je vais crier.”

Tolen responded, “Je n’avez pas temps pour ces jeux. Parler anglais maintenant, ou je vais couper vos doigts un à un moment.”

“Alright, alright,” she suddenly said in English with a strong accent.

Jade was glad to hear the conversation switch to a language she understood.

“Who are you?” Tolen asked.

She looked at him with a smirk. “You can’t figure that out?”

Jade came off the bed. She was wearing a long tee shirt which fell to mid-thigh. Her fear was gone. She approached the woman with a sudden rise of anger. “Who the bloody hell are you, and why are you in my room?”

The French woman gave Jade a surly look but said nothing.

Tolen reached into his pocket and pulled out a compact knife. He flicked a switch and the blade sprang out, stout and serrated. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and clamped the woman’s left hand down on the table. He quickly brought the knife down, and Jade involuntarily cringed.

“No, no wait!” the woman shouted. “I’m after what you’re after…the proof.”

Tolen paused. He lifted the blade to her eye level. “Who are you?”

She hesitated. Then, with a defeated grimace she said, “My name is Claudia Denoit.”

“Are you with the ‘True Sons of Light’?” Tolen asked.

“Quoi? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, never breaking eye contact with Tolen.

Tolen released her hand and moved back between Denoit and the door. “Is anyone else with you?”

She shook her head, no.

“What
proof
are you after?” Jade said, glaring down at the woman.

“The same proof you are!” the woman snarled.

“To destroy it?” Tolen asked. His voice was calm but firm.

The French woman gave a throaty laugh. “No, Monsieur.” Her eyes settled on Tolen. Her expression went rigid. “To the contrary.”

Tolen pressed within inches of her face. Jade took an awkward step back to allow him room. “Simon Anat sent you.”

There was a pregnant pause. “I do not know of this man.” She shifted, looked over Tolen’s shoulder at nothing, then brought her gaze down to the table.

Simon Anat?
Jade thought.

Tolen rose smartly with a certain primal urgency Jade had not previously witnessed. She half expected him to begin cutting off Denoit’s fingers. Instead, he pulled a pistol from inside his jacket and handed it to Jade, flipping the safety off.

“Shoot her in the kneecap if she moves a muscle. I’ll be right back.” Jade was speechless. There was no point in arguing. Tolen had already turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

Jade looked at the woman. She pivoted around to the door, keeping the gun leveled at Denoit the entire time.

****

Tolen stepped out into the hallway and headed quickly to his room. He had cord and a gag in his bag he could use to bind Denoit. Finally, they had someone who could give them answers. Once he had said the name of Simon Anat, her body language and eye movement indicated he had struck a chord.

His cell phone rang just as he stepped into his room. It was Director Vakind.

“Tolen, what’s your status?”

As he dug through his bag to fish out the cord, Tolen explained that they had just apprehended a suspect. He promised to call Vakind shortly with more information. He hung up just as he pulled out a gag, when suddenly there was a tremendous
slam
and trampling from the hallway.

Tolen dashed out into the hallway and saw Jade’s door open. Jade staggered out, holding her chest, trying to catch her breath. Tolen looked into the room. It was empty.

Claudia Denoit was gone.

“She rushed me…slammed me into the door,” Jade wheezed. “The gun’s on the floor in the room.”

Diaz stepped from his room, gun drawn. He was barely dressed, and looked half asleep. “What’s going on?” He rubbed his eyes, slinging a shirt on.

“Diaz, take the stairs at that end,” Tolen pointed down the hallway toward one end. “Look for a Caucasian Frenchwoman with long dark hair and average body type wearing black coveralls. I’ll take the other stairs.”

Diaz wordlessly turned and the two men raced in opposite directions. Tolen sailed down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. When he reached the lobby four floors down, it was empty. The front desk was unmanned. Moments later, Diaz joined him. He simply shook his head.