The Newton Code

by Liam Fialkov

  “No,” McPherson said, “at least not until recently. You see, the Israelis who conducted the excavation were cautious not to dig under the Temple Mount fearing it would infuriate the Muslims and cause riots.”

  “I see,” Michael said, “So, Bishop's people are doing what the Israelis couldn't do; but how can they work there if it's a popular tourist site?”

  “Obviously,” McPherson said, “they can't work during visiting hours, so they've been working at nights, and by now, they must be pretty close to the Dome of the Rock.”

  “I would assume they have a heavy-duty drilling machine,” Michael said. “Toiling with hoes and pickaxes would take forever. Also, they have probably managed to get a bunch of dynamite in there, so someone within the Israeli security forces must be turning a blind eye.”

  “You're absolutely right.” McPherson said. “You should go there as a tourist and then find a place to hide until the staff leaves the place. The action will probably start after closing time. Buy a flashlight so that you won't have to use the battery of your phone.”

  “I have a flashlight,” Michael said. “But assuming I'll manage to find them digging and preparing the dynamite, how would I stop them?”

  McPherson didn't answer.

  “Stewart?”

  The line went dead.

  I told him I'm not a spy.

  Chapter 38

  The site of the Western Wall Tunnels was located on the northern side of the Western Wall’s square. Michael arrived in the evening and purchased a ticket for the last touring group.

  Until then, he had about an hour. Seeing a sign advertising a virtual reality tour of ancient Jerusalem, he opted to check it out. It would be better to keep my mind busy, rather than worry about the obscure mission that awaits me.

  The VR tour was fascinating. Wearing a special helmet, he could look all around him, in 360 degrees, and it was like actually being in Jerusalem two thousand years ago. He saw and heard people going about their trades, all clothed according to the ancient era. The central point of the tour was, of course, the temple. Once again, Michael saw the magnificent structure, the second temple, the one that stood in the time of King Herod, the time of Jesus. More than other visitors, Michael was familiar with the structure. In Bishop’s God’s Land, he already visited a temple that looked almost identical.

  Exiting the VR presentation, he tried, once again, to call Rachel. This time she answered. Michael heard her voice among a group of screaming kids. “Michael,” she tried to talk over their screams, “I’m with my nieces and nephews; they’re driving me crazy; I have to babysit them until my sister gets back; what do you need?”

  “Never mind,” Michael said and ended the conversation.

  He entered the site of the Western Wall Tunnels, where he joined a group of about ten people who signed up for a tour with an English-speaking guide. The tour could have been interesting, even fascinating, except that Michael was preoccupied with the task ahead of him. While the guide explained how the massive, chiseled rocks, some estimated to weigh several tons, were brought over there, Michael looked for a place to hide once the tour is over.

  The excavation project was enormous. The small group progressed along a narrow path that had brick walls on both sides. In some places, the trail widened and turned into prayer coves where orthodox Jews prayed with their faces to the western wall. One section was reserved for women, and Michael was impressed by how deeply they were immersed in their prayers. While walking, the guide explained the history of the Temple Mount in the different eras.

  After the tour, the small group dispersed. Michael went to the lavatories after thanking the guide for a truly interesting tour. When exiting, he looked all around to make sure nobody is watching, and then he entered a small room that was probably reserved for the cleaning crew, as it had brooms, buckets, and the like. His heart pounded as he sat in the nearly dark room, where only tiny rays of light filtered through the closed door. He muted his phone and tried to relax. What in the world am I doing? He asked himself. Have I gone crazy, hiding underground in such a foreign place? If they catch me, they put me on the first plane to the US, or send me to a mental institution. What will I tell them? That I came to save the world?

  Slowly, he managed to relax, and as he waited, he drifted into a nap.

  ***

  When he woke up, darkness prevailed. He checked his phone and realized that he slept for nearly an hour. The place was quiet, but then he heard a distant, muffled sound of a machine working far away. The drill? His heart pounded heavily as he exited his hiding place. Using his flashlight, Michael went in the direction of the machine. Who is in there? What will I tell them?

  He had to advance through a narrow trail, bending and squeezing in sections, as the ceiling was low and the side walls close to one another. The sound got stronger. There were places where the trail had wide bays, full of large and small rocks, and soil. In some of the bays, he saw sacks stacked against the wall. Upon examining the sacks, there was no mistake about their contents, dynamite. They’re really gonna do it, he thought to himself. He checked his phone, almost 11 o’clock. It was getting close to what bishop called the zero hour. Pretty soon, the entire country will be in a state of blackout. Then the helicopters will deliver the sections of the temple to be assembled on the Temple Mount. And when will they blow up the Dome of the Rock?

  He entered a room that he couldn’t tell if it was recently carved, or it may have been there for centuries. The sound was deafening.

  “Hello! Hello!” he yelled and waved his flashlight. “Stop! I have to talk to you!” What on earth will I say?

  The Machine stopped, and he breathed a sigh of relief. There were three of them, wearing industrial earplugs and protective glasses. He knew all of them from the land, Ron, Roger, and Ruth. Of course, Ruth. Who else would be experienced in dealing with explosives?

  “Michael?” They seemed surprised as they took off their glasses and earplugs. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have a message from Charles.” He said, trying to look confident as he improvised on the spot.

  “What?” Ron asked.

  “He wants you to stop. He canceled the plan to blow up the Dome of the Rock. He’ll build the temple next to it.”

  “Is this true?” Ron shined a powerful flashlight in his face and examined him.

  “It is!” Michael said. “Why won’t you call and ask him yourself?” Michael knew that if Ron calls Bishop, then his bluff will be exposed, but what else could he say? He could sense that all three of them looked at him in disbelief. Apparently, they didn’t seem to know he was a spy, as McPherson suspected.

  Ron pulled his phone. Michael figured that even during the blackout, the group had ways of communicating with each other and receive instructions from their leaders.

  “No reception here,” Ron grumbled. “I’ll go out of here to where there’s reception.” He started to head for the trail and stopped by Michael. “You better not lie to us, or you’ll end up buried here for the next couple of hundred years!” and he walked out.

  “Michael,” Ruth said, I never heard of Charles changing his mind about anything.”

  “Ruth,” Michael said. “Charles has to take a critical decision, and after all, he’s just human.”

  “Ruth,” Roger said, “I once heard Charles change his mind. It was before you came, though, but when we had to decide where to put the temple—

  “Okay, guys,” Ruth said. “I guess we’ll wait till Ron comes back, in the meantime,” she laughed, “I have to go to the lady’s room.” Ruth headed out of the room and disappeared in the darkness of the trail.

  Roger turned to the machine, opened the fuel tank cover, and proceeded with filling the tank with fuel from a jerrycan.

  This is it, Michael thought, I’ll never get a better chance. He used the opportunity that Roger had his back turned toward him, and he was occupied with the fuel and quickly picked up a medium size rock that fit right in his hand
. His heart beating hard, he got close to Roger and casually asked, “do you think that Ruth is a Lesbian?”

  Still focused on the fuel, Roger answered, “It sure looks that way—

  Michael, who was not involved in a fight since elementary school, slammed Roger on the side of his head with the rock, praying that his hit was strong enough to knock Roger unconscious, but not hard enough to cause any severe damage.

  Roger collapsed.

  I had to prevent this darned world war; Michael already needed to justify his action. He didn’t have time to check on Roger’s condition. Soon, Ron and Ruth will return. He quickly started to collect dust to insert into the fuel tank and jam the machine. He filled the palms of his hands with as much dust as he could and moved toward the machine.

  “Drop it!”

  Michael glanced toward the trail, where Ruth stood, firmly pointing a gun directly at him.

  “Drop this dust and move away from the machine, or I swear to god I’ll shoot you.”

  Michael stood in his place but didn’t drop the dust. Will he sacrifice himself? Be a martyr? He could lash forward and drop the dust into the fuel tank even if she shoots him.

  “Michael, I’m done warning you,” Ruth said, as she released the safety-catch.

  “Hold it, Ruth!”

  Michael heard Ron yelling.

  “Are you crazy?” Ron approached Ruth.

  “He knocked Roger unconscious, and he wants to jam the machine,” Ruth said and continued to point the gun at Michael.

  “I talked to Charles,” Ron said. “Indeed, he changed his mind about blowing the Dome of the Rock, Michael was telling the truth.”

  Ruth lowered her gun. Even with the minimal light in the room, Michael could see that she was surprised to hear about him telling the truth. However, he was even more surprised than her. Charles changed his mind? Confirmed the conversation they never had?

  Ron approached Roger and emptied a large bottle of water on his head. Roger opened his eyes and moved to a sitting position.

  “What happened?” Roger asked and rubbed the bulge at the side of his head, where Michael hit him.

  “I’m sorry,” Michael muttered.

  “And you,” Ron turned toward Michael, visibly furious. “I thought you were a reasonable person, what in Christ’s name got over you? Didn’t you think I was gonna come back?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael mumbled, “I just thought… Charles said—

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ron said. “We should go and help our friends with assembling the temple.”

  They proceeded to go toward the door. Michael wanted to help and support Roger, but he pushed him away. “Don’t you ever get near me!” Roger said, “or you’d wish we left you buried under the Temple Mount.”

  As they got close to the exit door, out of the Western Wall Tunnels, Ron suddenly grabbed Michael by the arm. His grip was tight and painful. “Give me your phone,” He demanded.

  “My phone?” Michael didn’t understand the request.

  “Give me your darned phone. I’m not playing games.” Ron tightened his grip.

  “Okay,” Michael reached for his phone and handed it to Ron.

  Ron took the phone and smashed it on the ceramic tiled floor. The phone shattered, and fragments of glass spread around.

  “And now your flashlight,” Ron demanded.

  Michael handed him his flashlight without arguing, and Ron smashed it too.

  “You stay here!” Ron ordered Michael. You caused enough problems, and I don’t trust you.”

  Ron, Ruth, and Roger left the site of the Western Wall Tunnels, slamming the doors behind them and leaving Michael alone in the dark.

  Chapter 39

  Groping in the dark, Michael searched for his phone. His eyes tried to adjust, but in the total darkness that prevailed, without even the tiniest ray of light, there was nothing to focus on. It’s the blackout, he reckoned, Charles’ people are continuing with their plan.

  He found his phone, not before sustaining minor cuts to the tips of his fingers, due to the glass fragments of the phone’s screen. Slipping the phone into his pocket, he didn’t even try to turn it on. When the electric power resumes, he’ll be able to remove the SIM card, and as soon as he gets to the city, he’ll buy a new phone and be back in the twenty-first century.

  Fumbling around in the dark reception area, Michel stumbled on a chair and then sat on it. Only now, he could take a deep breath, relax his body and mind, start to gather his thoughts, and reflect on the unusual events that took place.

  If McPherson is right, then I might have saved the world from World War III. An ominous feeling told him that he didn’t prevent the war, only postponed it. Gush, I can’t believe I picked up a rock and hit Roger, rendering him unconscious, and then Ruth almost shot me… Different thoughts rumbled through his mind while he allowed his head to drop forward, and he fell asleep.

  ***

  “Adoni, ma ata ose po?”

  “Hm, What?” It took him a few seconds to realize where he was.

  “Eich nichnasta lekan?”

  It was the cleaning lady, and she looked angry as she examined the glass fragments on the floor.

  “Do you speak English?” He asked.

  “No English, ani koret lamishtara.”

  Michael recognized that she had a Russian accent. He recalled that many Russian Jews immigrated to Israel in recent years. Seeing that the door was open, he got up and made his way out into a cool, sunny morning.

  “Adoni, hake po!” She yelled after him. “Ani koret lamishtara!”

  Not having time for unnecessary, tedious explanations, he walked away.

  Hesitantly, he looked in the direction of the Temple Mount. From where he was, right in front of the Western Wall, he didn’t see anything unusual, only the golden cap of the Dome of the Rock. Walking briskly, he exited the Western Walls square and made his way to the Temple Mount. He had to pass through a checking post, where the armed Israeli soldiers asked if he carried any weapons.

  “No,” he said and hoped he didn’t look suspicious for some reason.

  The Temple Mount appeared serene. Just as it was… Just yesterday? It seemed like ages ago. There was no temple, and he didn’t see the commotion he expected.

  But how could that be? He managed to make them abort the more devious plan of blowing up the Dome of the Rock, but he assumed that the project of resurrecting the temple on the Temple Mount would proceed according to the plan. They couldn’t have canceled it. They’d put too much time, money, and other resources into their operation, and they were passionate about creating the conditions for the return of Christ.

  And then he saw it—the temple—not the actual temple, but a large photo of it, on the front page of the newspaper that an old Arab man read. The writings were in Arabic, but the photo was clear and unmistaken.

  Where is it? Michael assumed it’s unlikely that the old man spoke English, So, he hurried out of the Temple Mount, and exited the old city through the Dung Gate.

  Now, where? In a nearby parking lot, Michael saw a parked taxi. The driver was reading a newspaper, the same Arabic newspaper that Michael saw on the Temple Mount.

  “Could you take me there?” Michael asked and pointed to the photo of the temple in the newspaper.

  “Ah, the tembel, sure,” the driver said.

  Michael knew that the Arabs can’t pronounce the letter ‘P’ which they substitute with a ‘B’.

  “On the way,” Michael said, “please stop at a store where I could buy a new cell phone.”

  “No broblem,” the driver said, as he drove out of the parking lot.

  “You know,” the driver continued, “It’s good they didn’t put the tembel on the Tembel Mount, or there would be war.”

  “You think the Muslims wouldn’t accept a temple next to the Dome of the Rock?”

  “Next to it? No way! You know the Jews; sooner or later, they would want to remove the Dome of the Rock, and we can’t agree
to that. You know that we don’t even believe them when they say that the tembel used to be on the Tembel Mount?”

  “Not even two thousand years ago?” Michael was curious.

  “No! you know, the Jews like to make up stories.”

  “I am a Christian,” Michael said. “We also believe that there was a temple on the Temple Mount.”

  I don’t know about the Christians,” the driver said. “You know that we also believe in Jesus? He is one of the greatest prophets in Islam, but not as great as Muhammad.”

  The driver pulled into a parking lot of an electric store, and Michael hopped out of the car and into the store. He didn’t spend much time and picked the first telephone that he saw. “Could you transfer the SIM from my old phone?” he asked the seller, who appeared eager to help.

  “Sure,” the seller said, and within a short time, Michael was out of the store with a new phone. He also bought a car charger.

  “Could you please charge my phone?” Michael asked the driver.

  “No broblem,” the driver said, and connected the new phone to the car’s charging system. “Where are you from?”

  “New York.”

  “I have a brother who is a doctor in New York,” the driver said proudly. “He got tired of the turmoil in the Middle East.”

  “And you?” Michael inquired.

  “I lived here all my life, and I love this city with all its broblems.”

  Michael nodded and checked his new phone to make sure it retained all the contacts. It seemed most of them were there. It could have been worse.

  “I think,” the driver said, “that it’s a good thing they built the Tembel next to the Israeli museum,” he pulled into the museum’s already crowded, parking lot. “It’s a good blace for it. Now they have their blace, and we have ours.”

  Michael paid the driver and thanked him.

  As he stepped off the taxi, he was immediately stricken by the magnificent structure. No matter how many times he’d seen the temple, it never failed to amaze him. Perhaps that’s why Newton believed it was designed by God…