The Jerusalem Creed: A Sean Wyatt Thriller (8 page)

Dubai

Cameras in two corners watched Nehem’s every move. He stared up at the one nearest him from the meager desk chair he’d been given. The workstation was little more than a rickety folding card table. The chair looked and felt like it was thirty years old, a relic from a rundown office that had long since closed down. The rest of the room was sparsely decorated, which was a major contrast to the opulence the rest of the mansion displayed. Nehem figured it must have been used for storage most of the time. It was one of the few rooms in the palatial residence that didn’t have a window. A narrow cot with a thin brown blanket and white pillow sat in one of the other corners.

The only expensive item in the room was the laptop he’d been afforded for his research.

Now, Nehem lowered his eyes and gazed at the vibrant, bright computer monitor. The glow of the screen illuminated his face and part of the wall, almost more than the solitary light fixture in the center of the ceiling. He’d bought himself another day. More importantly, he’d been able to make sure his daughter was safe. They could do whatever they wanted to him, but Nehem had to make sure she would be okay. Nothing else mattered now.

His hope, his only hope, was that his friend in America got the email and was able to solve the code on the tablet. He knew that Tommy had the most sophisticated software on the planet, capable of deciphering nearly any complex sequence. If he was able to solve the riddle, there was a chance he would head to Israel. That all hinged on the assumption that he caught the last part of the email.

There hadn’t been time to elaborate on what Nehem meant by his warning. The men were outside his apartment and on their way up. With only seconds to spare, he was able to get the email away to his friend in the United States. At least Mamoud’s men had possessed the decency to knock. They gave him the chance to give himself up or they would break down the door. He chose to go easily, thinking that it would be better for him in the long run if he didn’t resist.

When Mamoud’s men entered the apartment, led by the one he called Sharouf, the group of mercenaries ripped through everything in the apartment while Nehem sat idly by in his desk chair, watching helplessly. They’d taken the tablet, which he knew there was no possible chance he could hide. The three-thousand-year-old piece of stone was taken from his tiny breakfast table where he’d placed it on a towel. Part of his plan was to keep it in plain sight, knowing that the only people who could translate it were his friend in America and himself. Had he claimed to not know the whereabouts of the tablet, the men might have simply killed him right then and there.

“Is there anything else?” the one called Sharouf had asked.

Nehem had slowly shaken his head and watched as the other men finished tearing apart his belongings.

When they were satisfied they had what they needed, they’d put a pillowcase over Nehem’s head and taken him down to their van. The next day, he’d woken up in this cramped little storage room.

Over the days that he’d been held hostage, Nehem knew what Mamoud Al Najaar wanted. He knew that the wealthy young Arab wanted the symbols to be interpreted, and he knew why. Nehem may have just been an archaeologist, but he was no fool. The reasons why someone would want the relics he searched for could be many in number. If anyone who’d studied the
Bible
or the
Torah
took note of the relics, they could easily wonder what possibilities awaited if the two were found and reunited.

Of course, neither Scripture discussed what happened to the Hoshen and the Urim and Thummim when the Babylonians came. Both sacred texts seem to just cease mentioning the items, much like the Ark of the Covenant.

Nehem knew exactly what Mamoud wanted to hear. Unfortunately, he didn’t know enough about the man to come to a logical conclusion. All he could do was hope that Tommy could figure everything out before it was too late.

Nehem tapped on the keyboard and moved the mouse around, pretending to examine the grid on the screen. Next to the monitor, the stone tablet sat like a heavy, priceless paperweight on the desk’s surface.

He was pretending because everything he’d done up until now was part of a plan to stall. Nehem didn’t tell Mamoud that he had already figured out the riddle in the symbols. He’d discovered the translation shortly before sending Tommy the email. He didn’t actually need his friend’s help. He had all the same technology. But Nehem didn’t entirely trust the Internet, either. If he sent an email out with specific locations and with the translation of the riddle on the stone, it could be hacked and spread around the world within an hour.

There were going to be enough hurdles. Worrying about a thousand treasure hunters didn’t need to be one of them.

So instead of including the key to the symbols on the tablet, and the way in which they could be used with the grid, Nehem played it safe and sent copies to Tommy, knowing that the American would be one of the few people in the world with the software powerful enough to break down the extensively complicated cipher. Along with that, he’d left another clue that Sharouf and his men had missed.

Nehem suppressed the laughter that tried to escape from his lips, aware that the cameras were always watching for any unusual behavior. Even in a dire situation like the one in which he presently found himself, he could see humor in some things.

He moved the mouse around again and picked up a pencil, pretending to write down something important. They were meaningless symbols, but the men behind the cameras didn’t know that. Nehem already had the solution to the code, and to the grid. He knew exactly where to look for the first of the two relics, though where it was hidden once they got there could prove to be tricky. At the moment, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Mamoud believed he was working on a solution, and that he would be able to provide it within the next twenty-four hours.

Nehem wrote down another phrase in Old Hebrew and set the pen down again. The newest lettering spelled out an insulting line, directed at his captors. They would never know what it meant anyway.

When his twenty-four hours were up, he would present the solution to the first part of the riddle to Mamoud, and not a minute sooner. All Nehem could do was hope that he’d bought his friend enough time to catch up, if Tommy was even on the trail at all.

He wondered where the American might be and whom he had with him. Nehem put his hands over his head and stretched. A yawn escaped from his gaping mouth. His eyes wandered over to the clock on the computer monitor.

His deadline was hours away. He said a silent prayer that his friend would hurry.

Jerusalem

Tommy’s finger traced the arrows on the sheet of paper. He’d put it down on the desk and waited for Karem and Sean to return from the bedroom so he could show them what he had found.

“These symbols fit into the grid to spell out different possibilities. The riddle was only half of the solution.” He relayed his theory to his friend and waited to hear what Sean had to say.

Sean examined the paper and nodded slowly. “Finally,” he said, relieved. “That makes perfect sense. The riddle, though revealing, was vague about actual locations. You think this spells out where to go next?”

“It has to,” Tommy said. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. The riddle gives a clue, but the grid will tell us exactly where to look. That’s why it was so hard to figure out. We only had half the information.”

Karem had been standing by, listening to the two. “Does this mean you know where Nehem is?”

“No,” Sean said. “But it gives us some insight as to where we should look next. If someone who wants what he was looking for took him, they will force him to lead them to it. Nehem left us this clue so we can track them down.” He hoped he was right. The truth was, Nehem and the people who took him could be anywhere at that moment. He wasn’t about to tell Karem that, though.

Sean turned his attention back to his friend before the Israeli could say anything else. “You think you can figure that thing out?”

Tommy stared at the paper. “I think so. It’s almost like a three-thousand-year-old word jumble.” He found a blank piece of paper and set it next to the drawing.

“Based on the key that Tara and Alex discovered, if we apply the letter sequence to the symbols on this sheet, we should be able to get several different combinations of words in Old Hebrew. Once we have those, we can take a picture and send it to the lab for the kids to analyze.”

Karem stepped forward. “You mean you two don’t read Old Hebrew?”

Sean and Tommy stopped what they were doing and turned back to their guide. They simultaneously shook their heads.

“No,” Sean said. “Do you?”

“Sean, I am the director of antiquities and head curator of one of the most prized museums here in Israel. I have access to rooms and galleries that even high members of state don’t have.” He grinned at the other two. “In short, of course I can read it.”

Tommy smiled and motioned him to come closer. “Perfect. Get over here.”

He spent the next fifteen minutes drawing out a grid of his own to mirror the one Nehem had left, inserting the corresponding Hebrew letters into different areas and substituting them for the odd symbols.

As he followed the directions left by the Israeli archaeologist, Sean watched intently. An eerie silence hung in the room, and every time a sound came from outside, whether it was a door slamming shut or a neighbor yelling, all three men started and looked toward the entrance. At one point, Sean walked over and secured the door, locking the deadbolt and the lock on the doorknob. He knew that these measures wouldn’t hold up to someone who wanted to get in badly enough. Still, it was enough to slow them down by a few seconds. In a fight, a few seconds could mean the difference between life and death.

He patted the ankle holster carrying his weapon of choice, a compact Springfield XD .40-caliber. It was a habit he’d adopted years ago. Even though he could feel the gun there, it always reassured him to feel it with his hand. Normally, he’d rather have a full-sized weapon, as they were more accurate and just felt better in his hand, especially when fired. This particular situation called for concealment, though. Since he was officially a government agent again, he would likely have no trouble with the Israelis for carrying a firearm, but if he had his choice, Sean would prefer not to have to use it.

Satisfied he’d done what he could with the door, he returned to the workstation where Tommy worked diligently with the code. Karem stood directly over him now, looking over his shoulder like a little kid watching a magic trick.

“If you want, you can start speeding this up by translating these to English,” Tommy said to their guide. He never looked up from his work but slid a nearby pen over to the left side of the desk.

Karem nodded. “Good idea.”

He grabbed the pen and a piece of paper off the floor and shifted to Tommy’s left. Karem started working on the translation, putting the word clusters in the order they found them on the grid. Rather than a direct substitute of letter for letter, the symbols produced different word groupings, which were more representative of the original language. Some of the letters were dummy letters, sounds that would have been included in the primary language but now would be left out, especially when changing to English.

As he jotted down the meanings, he crossed out letters he deemed irrelevant and connected letters he thought might go together. After five minutes of working, though, things still didn’t seem to coalesce.

“I don’t understand,” Karem said, frustrated. “This just looks like nonsense.”

Tommy was almost finished with his part of the task and glanced over at the work Karem had done so far.

Sean looked over it as well, standing behind the other two. His eyes narrowed to slits. “You’ve got it,” he said evenly, trying not to sound too excited.

Tommy and Karem looked back at him over their shoulders. “What are you talking about?” the Israeli asked. “It’s just a bunch of gibberish.”

“No,” Sean shook his head and pointed at a particular section. “Take the top line, go across, and then down. Tommy, if I’m not mistaken, it looks like that’s forming the name of the oldest Buddhist temple in the world.”

Tommy cocked his head and stared at the sheet. Sure enough, it was plain as day. “I don’t know why I didn’t see that.”

“Well, it’s a strange name,” Sean said in an attempt to make his friend feel better about not seeing what appeared obvious to him.

“Yeah, but it’s one I know. Heck, I’ve been there before.”

Karem still seemed lost. “Are you certain that is the name you’re looking for?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Sean said. “Think about it. The riddle suggests a place to the east with the seekers of light.”

Tommy’s eyes widened at the epiphany. “Of course. Buddhists are seekers of enlightenment.”

“Bingo.”

“And this place,” he tapped the paper, “has a high tower.”

“Lots of towers, actually.”

“Right.”

Karem interrupted again. “So you’re saying that what Nehem was looking for is at the Buddhist Temple of Borobudur?”

“It would appear so, professor,” Sean answered.

“But why there?”

Silence soaked the apartment again as the three men pondered the question. Karem had a good point. Why would a relic of Jewish history be hidden there?

“Maybe the answer lies in figuring out what it is he was looking for,” Tommy said, breaking the dead silence once more.

“Fine,” Karem agreed. “How are you going to do that?”

“Easy,” Sean said, staring at the floor to the right of the desk. “It’s been right in front of us the entire time we’ve been here.”

The other two followed his eyes down to where a print of a painting lay among the debris. It was a picture similar to some Sean had seen when he was a boy in church. The artist had painted the image of the Israelite high priest in full regalia as he offered a sacrifice. His arms were extended high to the heavens, his head tilted back, and his eyes gazing into the sky. On his head was a fluffy white hat with a golden crown around the base. Sean immediately recognized the white linen ephod, or robes, that the priests of the time wore. In the background, thousands of people kneeled reverently. But none of that was what drew the attention of the three men in the apartment. They all stared at what the priest wore over the ephod.

The shining golden breastplate hung over the priest’s chest, supported by golden chains that went over his shoulders. Additional chains secured it around his waist to keep it stable as he performed the rituals required of his position. Sean knew he’d recognized the pattern of the stone tablet before. It looked almost identical to the breastplate, except that the one the priest wore featured twelve stones, each of unique color and clarity. Two additional stones in the priest’s hands caught Sean and Tommy’s attention.

In the right, a stone as black as onyx; in the left, a stone that looked like white quartz, smoothed down into an oval shape. The artist’s rendering displayed an odd glow hovering around the hand holding the darker of the two stones.

“The Hoshen,” Sean said in a hushed tone, breaking the silence that once more pervaded the room.

“And the Urim and Thummim,” Tommy added, referring to the stones in the priest’s hands.

The two looked back at the sheet Nehem had drawn and then down again at the print.

Karem looked perplexed. “Why would Nehem be looking for those things? They are sacred, hidden thousands of years ago by the priesthood.”

Sean and Tommy turned to him with questioning eyes. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “It’s the only explanation. When the Babylonians invaded the Holy City, they took everything of value. The temple was ravaged and looted of most of its treasures. The priesthood had set security measures in place in case of an invasion. The Ark of the Covenant was the first priority. They built a contraption into the temple that would allow the Ark to drop down below ground. It worked with counterweights made from heavy bags of sand.”

“Stay on track, Karem. What else do you know about these things?” Sean pointed at the print again.  

“Honestly, not that much. There are only legends, myths really, that surround the whereabouts of the Hoshen and the two sacred stones.”

Sean crossed his arms and waited. Tommy mimicked him, coercing Karem to keep talking.

When he did, he stuttered at first but gained clarity as he went on. “From…from what I have learned about those objects, they were a form of divination the high priest used to gain insights into important matters of state.”

“Divination?” Sean asked. “You mean, like, they would use it to get answers from a supernatural source?”

Karem nodded. “Again, this is what the Scriptures say, though we never spent a great deal of time and energy on the subject. Most of our teachers and rabbis brush over those parts of the texts, claiming they are unimportant.”

Tommy listened carefully before interjecting. “Wait a minute. I thought that using divination was forbidden in Jewish and Christian religions. Aren’t there several texts that talk about that?”

“Yes,” Karem gave another nod. “We do not condone divination, necromancy, cleromancy, or astrology. Those things are forbidden. But to the ancient Hebrews, divination was the way they sought answers from Yahweh. They occasionally used cleromancy, or lot casting, as well. Only the high priest was permitted to engage those kinds of techniques, and they typically were done prior to a sacrifice, like in the image you see here.” He pointed a finger at the print.

Sean spoke up again. “You said that they used these objects to seek answers from Yahweh. What kind of answers? I mean, how did it work?”

Karem took a deep breath and sighed then shrugged. “No one knows for certain. There are many accounts of using the Hoshen with the sacred stones to seek answers to questions. Some histories indicate that the stones were placed on top of the breastplate. When they were positioned correctly, the priest could ask questions, and the Urim or the Thummim would move to a specific jewel.”

“Wait,” Tommy stopped him. “You mean, like on a Ouija board?”

“Most certainly not,” Karem sounded defensive for a second. “Those things are strictly forbidden, and related to contacting the forces of darkness. It would be considered necromancy.”

“I meant no offense,” Tommy sounded apologetic, “but what I meant was, on a Ouija board, people say the thing moves on its own. You’re saying these stones move by themselves?”

“That was one account, yes. However, the priest did not have to be touching them for the stones to move.”

Sean had another question. “You said the stones moved to a specific jewel. From what I understand, each jewel represented a tribe of Israel. That would make me think that the questions typically revolved around answers they sought for the tribes? And I thought the priest had to be wearing the thing. If that is the case, how did they move without him holding them?”

“Typically yes, that would have been the case. In most instances, the high priest needed to know who a scapegoat was, who had done something wrong, or who should receive what reward after a battle. Of course, the moving stones is only one method that was recorded. The priest would have to put the breastplate down on a table to perform the ritual in that manner. The details, however, are extremely sketchy.”

The two Americans gave a look that urged him to continue.

“Fine. The other method they used caused the stones to light up. That’s why this artist’s rendering shows a halo of light around the hand holding the darker stone. According to the records, the light effect was more frequently referred to when the priest was asking
yes
or
no
questions. If the answer was no, one stone would light up. If it was yes, the other would illuminate. There were also instances where it was said that the other stones on the Hoshen would light up during certain inquisitions. Other than that, there is nothing else I know about the relics.”