The Jerusalem Creed: A Sean Wyatt Thriller (17 page)

Tommy handed the driver a fold of cash and asked, “Are you going to wait here, or should we let you know when we are heading back down?”

Pak graciously accepted the tip with his trademark grin. “I wait for you to come back. No mobile phone service up here.”

The two Americans looked at each other and shrugged. “Perfect.”

“Your phones might work on top. Not down here, though.”

“Well, there’s that,” Tommy said. “We’ll plan on seeing you when we get back down here. I think we should only be at the monastery for an hour.”

“Okay. When it start to get dark, the park close. So you hurry.”

The visitors nodded and walked away toward the trail.

The archway and fencing surrounding the trailhead were covered in a wild array of colorful flags and pennants. Some of the cloth had things written in Chinese: prayers, words honoring ancestors, and blessings of various kinds.

Sean led the way up the short slope and over the rolling hill. The narrow trail cut through the evergreen forest, disappearing at times as it weaved back and forth among the trees. The two friends kept on full alert, watching every possible angle. The thick forest provided an excellent place for trouble to hide, and even with their diligent observation skills, someone could easily sneak up on them.

The trail flattened out at first then sloped up dramatically. It swung right and left, zigzagging its way up the mountain, making the journey a little more bearable. After twenty minutes of hiking, the altitude and the steep incline began to take its toll on both men, particularly Tommy. He breathed heavily as he walked in line behind Sean, laboring to keep up the pace.

Sean’s legs burned, but he knew that they needed to hurry. The slower they went, the less time they’d have to look for the relic upon reaching the top. So he pressed on, forcing himself to keep going.

The two passed a few other visitors who were on their way down. They were older folk, a man and a woman with fanny packs attached to their belts. When the two were out of earshot, Tommy cast a quick look back and then said to Sean, “How in the world did they make it to the top of this mountain alive?”

Sean shook his head in disbelief at his friend. “When we get back, you’re going to a gym every day.”

The two kept pushing on up the winding trail. They had to stop more than a few times to let Tommy catch his breath before pressing on. Every once in a while, Sean thought he heard something in the woods behind them, but when he turned around he saw nothing. It was probably just a chipmunk or a bird scrounging around in the pine needles and leaves. He sighed. Maybe he was a little
too
high strung.

The journey up the mountain had taken much longer than expected when they reached an observation spot on the trail. The monastery and the cafeteria below it were both visible, as if the people who designed the trail had put it there as a carrot to keep people going just a little farther.

The two Americans soon learned that the observation point was more like a mirage. The final length of the journey took another twenty hard minutes of walking before they reached the cafeteria. People were beginning their descent in earnest now, clearing out of the visitor’s center and eating area in droves. The sun had already retreated to the west of the mountain, leaving the monastery in the cool shade of approaching twilight.

“We’ll have less than an hour here if we want to get back to the parking area before dark,” Sean said.

Tommy was still struggling to catch his breath, but he nodded and pointed at a bridge that crossed over from a steep staircase to a landing at the foot of the monastery. “Looks like we have to go down some steps and then back up those over there to reach the bridge.”

Sean’s heart sank. He swallowed hard as his mind began to run wild with the fear that had corrupted his courage since he was a boy. Tommy meandered over to where the descending staircase began and took a step down. He turned around and looked back at Sean with tired but determined eyes. “Come on, man; like you said, gotta hurry.”

Sean’s feet involuntarily shuffled across the ground, carrying him closer to the point where it looked like the earth dropped off into an eternal abyss. He told himself with each step that it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought, that there would be a slight drop with a staircase complete with a walled-in guardrail to keep him safe. Upon reaching the edge, he realized it was the complete opposite.

The ancient stone steps dropped dramatically down almost a hundred feet before reaching a narrow plot of ground. A thin trail stretched over to a similar set of stairs that reached up to the bridge. There were no guardrails. No safety wall. Just an agonizingly long drop to a sudden stop at the bottom.

Paro

Tommy passed his friend a disparaging glance. “You know, for an international man of mystery, you sure do have a problem with heights. What’s the deal with that anyway? You can dodge bullets, but a cliff terrifies you. I would have thought you’d be over that by now.” He was already down five steps and didn’t seem at all bothered by the precipice. “Were you dropped on your head as a child or something?”

Sean crouched down low and moved his first foot over the edge, carefully placing it on the step. “Mom pushed me out of a swing,” Sean snapped. “And yes, I fell on my head.”

“Really? That’s why you’re so scared of heights?”

“It’s the only conclusion I can come to.” He pressed his hands to the top ledge and put the other foot down to the second step.

“Are you seriously going to take this long to go down the stairs? ‘Cause there’s, like, two hundred of them, and that’s just on this side.”

Sean motioned with his hand. “Go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“Not at that speed you won’t.” Tommy snickered at his own joke.

“Go up to the monastery, and find the abbot. Tell him what we’re here for. See if he can help us. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“If by a bit you mean tomorrow, then yeah.” Tommy shook his head and took off at what Sean considered a reckless pace, almost bounding down the stairs.

Sean kept his body as low as he could as he descended the steps one after another. He kept his eyes on the next step and nothing else, desperately trying not to see the vast distance to the bottom. His hands shook violently, mirroring his head’s gyrating movement. As he crept ever closer to the base of the stairs, he picked up his pace ever so slightly, getting into a sloth-like rhythm overlapping one foot and then the other. Halfway down, he began to feel more comfortable and stole a glance over at Tommy who’d already begun ascending the other staircase. What Sean lacked in speed due to fear, Tommy would lack in fitness as he climbed the other steps.

Sean’s pace quickened when he was twenty feet from the bottom, the terror of falling no longer an issue. He sped up until he reached the floor. When his feet landed on solid ground, he took a deep breath. There was still another cliff to the right, but the wall on the left made him feel at least a little safer. He took off at a jog and hurried over to the other staircase. Tommy’s speed had slowed significantly, as Sean knew it would, but he’d reached the top and disappeared over the upper ledge.

When Sean arrived at the base of the next set of stairs, he swallowed hard. The momentary respite of being on safe ground vanished in an instant, and his deeply rooted fear returned.

“Just look at the next step above you,” he said to himself. He repeated the mantra as he put his foot on the first stone ledge then the next.

He made it to the top of the stairs ten minutes later, a journey that should have only taken four. He was proud that he’d been able to conquer the climb, but his hands still trembled even as he reached the upper landing and stepped away. The next obstacle was the bridge. Just when he thought his battle was over, the bridge crossed over a crevasse that dropped several hundred feet down to the jagged rocks below. “This place is a nightmare,” he said again in a low tone.

A young couple walked leisurely across the bridge, stopping midway to lean over the railing. The move made Sean queasy. At least there was something he could hold onto. He shuffled over to the crossing and grabbed the rail nearest the mountain wall then started across. In the case of the bridge, he found that moving as fast as possible was the way to do it, sort of like ripping off a Band-Aid. The couple in the middle smiled at him and seemed as if they might start up a conversation, but Sean was in no mood to talk and kept his eyes focused on the bridge as he made his way across.

With his feet on solid ground again, he bent over and grabbed his knees. He took several deep breaths and started to relax again. His eyes wandered to his surroundings, taking in the extraordinary vistas and the dangerous placement of the monastery. Tommy appeared in a doorway up another shorter set of stairs. He was followed closely by a man in dark-orange robes. His head was shaved clean over a pair of narrow eyes. Lines stretched out from his nose and underneath his eyes, showing his advanced years of age even from fifty feet away.

Tommy waved, motioning for Sean to join them.

A few minutes later, within the temple’s confines, Sean finished telling his story to the abbot. “So you see, that is why we have come to your place of worship,” he said.

He and Tommy sat across from the old abbot and a younger monk who translated Sean’s message. They’d been brought into a small room with cream-colored walls supported by dark wooden beams. Candles burned on shelves and sconces, casting an eerie, flickering yellow light on the four men. The travelers had been offered tea, which they accepted as a show of good faith. Sean took another sip from the bone cup and set it down on the matching dish placed in front of him.

Tommy had already given him a rough idea of what they were there for, but Sean tried to clarify since the abbot was still somewhat uncertain as to their purpose. Once he had heard Sean’s explanation, the abbot’s face took on a grave expression.

He spoke deliberately so that the translator didn’t miss any details.

“We have been entrusted with the protection of this relic for centuries. Before that, our monks guarded it for thousands of years at Borobudur. Not once, in all that time, has it been reported that a visitor requested to see the relic. You are the first.”

Sean and Tommy shot each other a quick glance and then returned their gaze to the old man.

“However, just because you are the first to inquire about its existence here does not entitle you to receive it. Only someone who knows the heart of the one who protected it can receive its power.”

This last bit caused concern for the two Americans.

“What do you mean?” Sean asked.

The translator passed along the question, and the abbot nodded. He stared through Sean and then Tommy.

“This relic is very powerful. In the wrong hands, it could cause much pain throughout the world. You must pass the test if you are to receive it.”

“Test?” Tommy looked worried. “What test?”

When the abbot heard the question, he stood up and motioned for the three to follow him.

The two friends looked at each other questioningly, wondering where the monks were taking them. They shrugged and followed the young interpreter and his master into a narrow hallway. More candles burned atop brass sconces along the walls. The little flames danced in the darkness as the monks passed by.

The corridor went straight for thirty feet, passing by dormitories and prayer rooms. It abruptly shot off to the left, back to the right, and then up one flight of stairs to a dark wooden door. The abbot turned and said something to the interpreter. His voice was almost inaudible. When the young apprentice translated, he too kept his voice low.

“We must not interrupt the evening prayers,” he said. “Be very quiet.”

Sean and Tommy nodded. They’d removed their shoes before entering the monastery, something they assumed the monks would appreciate. Now they clutched their shoes tighter, wary of dropping them.

The door swung open silently, revealing another hallway on the other side. The four stepped in and padded quietly along the ancient wooden floor. The wall to the right had several small windows that looked through into a vast chamber with twenty-foot ceilings. Red tassels hung from the walls every five feet. Circular pillars, painted red, supported the dropped ceilings before they vaulted to the top. The Americans noted the strong smell of incense and located the smoking censer in the front of the room on top of a platform. Surrounding the platform, dozens of men in matching robes chanted in unison. Their bodies swayed back and forth in rhythm as their ghostly prayers echoed through the chamber.

The group pressed on, and soon the corridor took another sharp turn to the left. From what the visitors could tell, they were heading toward the mountain. Sure enough, the walled corridor ended and gave way to another door. It was marked with an emblem that had been burned into its center. The symbol was out of place in such a remote Eastern country. It was the Davidic star of Israel.

The abbot reached into the folds of his robe and removed a key, hanging around his neck on a piece of string. He looped it up over his head and inserted it into the door. The older man said something to the young monk and then turned the key carefully; the old lock clicked. The man put the key back over his head and reverently pushed the door. Unlike the previous one, this door creaked loudly. It clearly hadn’t been used in a long time. The abbot’s apprentice grabbed a candle from the wall and handed it to his master then repeated the action to give each of the visitors their own source of light.

“He says this door hasn’t been opened in nearly five hundred years.”

Musty, damp air wafted out through the opening as the four moved forward into the tunnel. The jagged rock looked as if it had been hewn in a hurry. Sean imagined that whoever did it worked quickly to get the relic hidden in case someone had followed it from Indonesia. Water dripped down a strip on the left side, splattering on the rock below. He wasn’t sure where it flowed to, probably an underground river. He shook away the random thoughts and looked ahead. The abbot walked into a large circular room. The light from his candle barely reached the edge of the wall. He stopped in the center where a three-foot-high stone platform stood. On top of it, three golden boxes shimmered in the flickering candlelight.

Sean and Tommy stepped close, standing at the abbot’s side. They gazed in wonder at the three containers.

“What are these?” Sean whispered.

The interpreter didn’t need to ask the abbot. He already knew the answer. “This is your test.” He held out his hand, palm up, as if displaying the three objects. “You must choose the correct box. Only one holds the relic you seek. The other two offer death.”

Tommy frowned. “Death? What do you mean, death?”

Sean stared at the boxes. They were each about two feet long and a foot wide. He figured they were made of wood, probably cedar, and layered in a thin coating of gold. A six-pointed star had been engraved into each one. The three containers also featured a gem inlaid into the removable top. Each precious stone was different: one ruby, one white stone, and one onyx. Sean figured the white to be quartz, but he wasn’t sure. The gems were cut and smoothed into ovals then inserted just above the high priest’s symbol.

The abbot and his apprentice withdrew, stepping back into the recess of the tunnel. They offered no further instruction or assistance.

“How are we supposed to know which one of these is the right one?” Tommy hissed, trying to keep his voice low enough so the abbot wouldn't hear his doubts.

“I’m working on it,” Sean said through clenched teeth. “It has to have something to do with the gems on the tops.”

“I was thinking the same thing, but what’s the difference?”

“One line of thought suggests the red one. The white one and black one are at opposite ends of the spectrum, while the ruby is different than both.”

Tommy nodded. “Right. So the one with the ruby.” He started to reach out, but Sean grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

“Not so fast.”

Tommy looked at him like a frightened child who’d just been chastised for reaching for a forbidden cookie.

“There are other things to consider, though. Think about it. The white and black stones look like the Urim and the Thummim, the same gems that were said to go with the breastplate. In the Jewish histories, it didn’t say anything about a ruby being used with the Hoshen.”

“Good point. So not the red one?”

Sean shook his head. “Probably not.”

Tommy swallowed hard as he gazed at the two potential boxes. “Both the white and the black were used to get answers from God. Some of the legends suggest that the stones moved, while others say they lit up. But in both cases, the stones reacted most often to direct yes or no questions.”

“And which one was the gem that represented the yes?”

Both sets of eyes drifted to the box on the end with the white stone set in its top.

“The white one,” Tommy said.

“Right.”

They continued to gaze at the gilded container. Doubts lingered in their hearts. If they were wrong, the abbot said that death awaited. Neither man knew what that meant, nor did they want to find out. Tommy twisted his head, risking a peek over his shoulder. The abbot and his apprentice had vanished. The light from their candles was gone, leaving Sean and Tommy alone in the chamber.

“Where did they go?” he asked, turning around to look once more at the box.

“I imagine if we choose the wrong box they will lock us in here,” Sean said. “It’s unlikely there’s something in the other two that would kill us. These things have been here too long.”

“Unless they’re booby trapped.”

“True, but I don’t think so. I’m thinking they’d go a little more in the direction of Poe’s story, ‘The Cask of Amontillado
.
’
”

“Wall us up and let us starve to death in here?”