The 13th Enumeration

by William Struse

  Sam interrupted. “Let me guess. You free soloed up the rock, risking your life to save the damsel in distress. In an act of incredible heroism you saved her life, and she was eternally grateful.”

  Zane replied with a hearty laugh. “Except for the last part, you got it just about right, bro.”

  Sam laughed in turn. “Only in your dreams, Zane, only in your dreams.”

  “Sam, my dreams of rescuing a fair lady seem a lot more real to me than your dream of riches from a penny stock.”

  Sam replied in a more a serious tone, “The day I believe that fairy tale will be about the same time you break even on my little misadventure.”

  They wrapped up their call with a promise to go climbing with David Johnson, their mutual best friend from high school days, soon. Fully awake now, Zane looked at the phone for a moment and then dialed his parents. His mother picked up on the fourth ring. Her clear, calm voice came over the phone, “Good morning, the Harrisons.”

  “Good morning, Mom, how are you?”

  “Zane!” she replied with happiness, relief, and love mixed in the single word. “How was your trip?”

  He answered with an abbreviated—very abbreviated, without any mention of Rachael Neumann or risking his life—summary. “Can I talk to Dad?” he asked after a bit more small talk.

  “Dad,” Zane said after his father’s manly voice came on the line, “I need some advice on a research paper I’m doing for my professor. The class is called Faith and Fact. Our professor has given everyone in the class an assignment to choose a prophecy in the Bible concerning the Messiah. We are to use reasonable forensic evidence to build a case for its fulfillment in Jesus. For my paper, I chose the prophecy of Daniel 9. As you know, most Christians believe that Jesus fulfilled this prophecy. Arguably, it’s the one prophecy in the Bible that gives specific, datable events which can be contextually connected to specific secular events and the coming of the Messiah in the first century.”

  His father indicated that he was following, and Zane continued. “As most understand it today, the prophecy speaks to the second coming as well. Many consider it the most important prophecy concerning the Messiah in the Bible. Without going into great detail, here is my dilemma: as I know you are aware, the most widely accepted interpretation of this prophecy was most eloquently laid out by Sir Robert Anderson in his work The Coming Prince. There has been some modification to Anderson’s interpretation over the years, but by and large it’s the accepted view.”

  He paused and decided to plunge on. “When doing my own research, I found that there was no contextual chronological foundation for this theory to be found in the Scripture. It’s a foundational prophecy concerning the Messiah, yet most scholars do not have a sound chronological foundation upon which to base it. My own research is undermining my belief in its fulfillment in Jesus Christ. How do you think I should proceed?”

  After a few moments’ pause, his father replied, “Son, if what you say is true, and you have not shown me any evidence one way or the other, but assuming you got your facts straight and there are real serious questions about the consensus interpretation, you should pursue it until you have exhausted every avenue of evidence. Don’t be afraid of where the facts might lead. You know I am a firm believer in the accuracy of the Bible as long as it is understood within the context of its time, its people, and its place. Remember, a verse taken out of context can be twisted to fit any man’s motive, belief, or lifestyle, including yours. Some of the greatest human tragedies have been orchestrated in the name of religion. Follow this to wherever it may lead. You owe it to yourself. Don’t be intellectually lazy, son, but search it out to the best of your ability. I believe that if, as you say, the current interpretation does not meet a reasonable standard of truth, then you will find an even greater truth to replace it. There is a proverb I always think of when I am doing my own research: Proverbs 25:2: ‘It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter.’”

  Zane mulled the words over. “Thanks, Dad, I appreciate your advice. You’re right. I need to dig out the truth.”

  “Son, you never have to fear the truth. It will set you free.”

  Those words were still ringing in his ears when Zane put down the phone and with renewed resolve began to go over his research notes.

  Chapter 14

  Dubai, United Arab Emirates

  Gavin Matthews and Ralph Scholz sat in the control room of Darius’s fabrication facility on the outskirts of Dubai. The facility used state-of-the art robotic fabricators to put their machines together, minimizing the number of people who had access to the machines and the potential for theft of the technology.

  “We have done the best we can do. I don’t see how the machines can be compromised right away,” Gavin was saying.

  Ralph replied, “According to Dylan we need at least one year of operation without compromise in order to make this plan work. I am not too worried about it myself. Once they realize this is not some gimmick or scam we will all be incredibly wealthy, and it won’t take more than a few weeks to see our stock price rise dramatically.”

  Gavin was quiet for a moment. “Do you really believe Darius’s motivation is altruistic in all this? Sometimes I get the feeling there is more involved here than what we’ve been told.”

  Ralph chuckled. “Does it really matter if Darius has other motivations? We each have one billion shares of stock in our own names in our own accounts.”

  “I guess not,” Gavin said. He laughed. “I would just like to think we’ll make a real difference in the world while we’re all getting filthy rich.”

  Ralph, a serious look replacing the smile, answered, “Whatever you believe about Darius’s motivation, you have to admit he does not leave much to chance. Several years ago, about the time all those dead fish washed up on the beaches around here, he had me design dual control systems for the machines. He said he wanted a backup system in case the primary failed.”

  “I had to rewrite the software to run that as well,” Gavin answered. “That was when he had me add the remote start-up to the secondary system. He said he wanted to be able to restart the machines from the control center in Dubai.”

  “Did he ever explain to you why he had the auxiliary storage tanks incorporated into the backup system? I asked him why it was necessary, but he never gave me a direct answer. It seems to me that it’s unnecessarily redundant because both the primary and secondary controls can route through the primary storage tanks.”

  “That never made sense to me either,” replied Gavin. “I’ve never seen him do anything without a reason, so I am sure there must be one. Anyway, that’s on the customer’s side of the design. They get the design blueprints, and you can bet they will follow them exactly, unnecessary storage tanks or not.”

  Ralph laughed in agreement.

  Gavin asked, “Do you think you will be able to keep up with demand once we go public?”

  “No way. We have a thousand of the AES-100s and fifty of the AES-1000s completed and ready to ship. Once the world knows what these machines do, we will be selling thousands of them. Our factory can produce about ten of the AES-100s and one AES-1000 a day. I have already made designs for another facility which will increase our production by ten times, but it will cost one-and-a-half-billion dollars to build. I can have it in production four months from ground breaking. All we need is the money. Darius has used all of his money to get us to this point. Dylan has assured us that four weeks from going public with this technology, our stock price will be well north of ten dollars a share. At that point money will never be a problem for us again.”

  They looked at each other and smiled, both of them thinking the same thought. One month was not too long to wait to be unbelievably wealthy.

  * * *

  They stood in Darius’s office looking into each other’s eyes. “This is the last time we will see each other for some time, brother,” Arash said.

  Darius replied, “If ever
ything goes according to plan, I will see you in October one year from now.”

  “No one outside of Iran has ever seen me without a disguise, and only you know me as Arash. The blame for what we have planned for New York will fall directly on the leadership of Iran and its al-Qaeda connections. The harder they deny, the less the international community will believe them. At a minimum, sanctions will be imposed, and we can’t rule out direct military intervention if the events in New York cause a large loss of life. As a precaution, I will be minimizing my contact with the Anaj network. In the coming weeks I do not want any association with the events in New York. However remote, the American intelligence agencies may be able to figure out how we are communicating and trace it back to me. I will make sure Anaj traffic is directed to another part of the Iranian intelligence service not associated with me. I will still have access, but I will be more insulated from the repercussions should they somehow compromise the network.”

  Darius nodded in agreement. “What about the Israeli network? I would like to be kept informed of their archeological efforts. You know this is of interest to me. How dangerous would it be to our goals if I monitored the intelligence from the network there?”

  “It would be a risk, brother, but a manageable one if you use discretion,” Arash replied. “I will leave with you the contact information for the Ukrainian Internet company that uploads our encrypted files. My contact there does not know who we are, but he knows our procedures. When you send him your files, do not do so from any Internet connections associated with AES. I will contact him one last time and prepay his account with funds so that you will be able to use the network for the next twenty-four months. I can arrange for the Baker to send all intelligence to a new post-office box in Dubai. Are you familiar with the procedures to connect the flash drives to the new USB connectors?”

  “Yes,” Darius replied with confidence. “I have seen you do it once before. I will be able to figure it out.”

  “Very well then, brother. I will leave you the Ukrainian’s contact information as well as our Israeli field agent’s identification numbers. Once you have downloaded the files into the Anaj software, make sure you enter the lotto numbers first, then the agent’s identification number.”

  Darius cut him off with slight irritation. “Brother, do not worry. I am familiar with your procedures.”

  “Okay, okay,” Arash conceded begrudgingly. This was a foolish risk, but watching his brother the last few years, he knew Darius would try to keep contact with or without his blessing. At least this way there was some protection. He almost shook his head. A man soon to be worth a trillion dollars risking it for an interest in Israeli archeology. All in search of some secret which might or might not be real.

  Looking directly at his brother and using a cold voice Darius had never heard, Arash said, “Just be careful—this is a big risk you take that affects us all. I will not bail you out if you get into trouble.”

  Darius laughed in incredulity. “You bail me out? You will be lucky, brother, if you survive the anger of the Western world once they realize it was Iran who carried out the attack in New York. You had best worry about your own skin. I will worry about mine.”

  Arash shrugged. Ever the same Darius. They were playing a dangerous game here, and any indiscretion on their part could bring down the whole house of cards. He had covered his tracks as best he could. No one in Dubai would ever recognize him once he took off his disguise. Darius was the only one who knew of his connection to the Iranian intelligence service or his part in the plan. By the time he communicated with his brother again, a year from now, the plan would be in its final stages. “If our efforts do not go according to plan and you are forced to move up the timetable, you can notify me at this e-mail account.” He handed over a note with “newpersian13@yahoo.com” scrawled on it. “If you have to leave early, just give me a time and I will be waiting for you.”

  Darius smiled. “I doubt that will be necessary, brother, but it is a good idea. Will you be able to get the 235X back into your country without being detected?”

  “I will have no problem,” Arash said as he lifted his briefcase. “I have diplomatic immunity in Dubai, and you know that no one in their right mind messes with the MISIRI in my country. Once things escalate in Iran, I will be giving them a taste of this.” He smiled, a thin-lipped smile that didn’t make him look more pleasant. “It is very fortunate that you were able to cover up the discovery of 235X. Had anyone connected the three miles of dead sea life with your uranium extraction experimentation, that would have been the end of it all.” It was no exaggeration—with the one liter of 235X Arash had in his briefcase, he would be able to decapitate the entire leadership of the Iranian government. Their deaths would be blamed on American or Israeli retaliation, and no one would ever know the difference. Once the Muslim fanatics were removed from power, he and his brother would be able to restore Hystaspes rule to the land of Persia and then the world.

  “Yes, my brother,” Darius replied. “Nothing stands in our way now. We will restore the glory of the kingdom of Persia.”

  Chapter 15

  Jerusalem, Israel

  Rachael was out of the hospital. Since returning home she had gradually restarted most of her normal routine, but the events of the past several weeks and her still-ungiven thanks to the young man had her preoccupied. After breakfast she normally ran three miles before she began her piano practice, but the doctor had said she could not resume heavy exercise for several weeks. She had already discarded the crutches she was issued, and she limped around the house in frustration.

  This morning, an hour earlier than her usual practice time, she sat at her Steinway concert grand piano and played Russian scales to warm up her fingers. The coordinator for the museum benefit had requested she play Beethoven’s “Pathetique” piano sonata. She had memorized the piece several years ago for a recital, so it had not taken much work to bring it up to performance quality. There were just a couple places in the third movement where the dynamics still needed some work. It took approximately nineteen minutes to play all three movements, and after finishing scales, she played it through three times.

  Her practicing this morning was not as focused as she would have liked. She kept thinking about how she was going to thank the stranger who had rescued her. She could ask her father to find out who the young man was. With his connections, all it would take were a few phone calls—but she had never used her father’s position to further her own agenda, and she did not intend to start now. For all she knew her father already knew who the young man was, but he had not offered and she did not intend to ask. This was her problem, and she would solve it.

  There was a gentle knock at the door, and Gretchen, their housekeeper for the last five years, entered the room. “Good morning, Miss. This came for you in the mail a couple of weeks ago, and somehow in all the confusion it was forgotten. I am sorry.” She handed Rachael a package and left without any further comments. Rachael looked it over, unable to find a return address. It only had a postmark from Texas, USA. With puzzled curiosity, she opened the package and found her missing backpack.

  Her heart jumping with hope, she opened the backpack and found the contents as she remembered them. Nothing seemed to be missing—and much to her disappointment, nothing else was added. She had hoped to find a note which would identify her mysterious benefactor. How had he returned her things anyway? There had been nothing to identify her in the backpack. Her book of Psalms didn’t give her name.

  Looking at the book more closely, she noticed something there that had not been there before. Opening it, she pulled out the unusual bookmark. It was a piece of bright pink climbing rope with the inside strands of rope taken out. Only the casing remained. After reading the psalm it marked, she laughed, pleased. It seemed the young man knew enough about the Scripture to place the bookmark in an appropriate place. For that matter, he must be quite knowledgeable about the Psalms in particular to be able to pick out such an appropriat
e one out of one-hundred-and-fifty options.

  She read the psalm through again, and when she got to the passage that read, “Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for YHWH hath dealt bountifully with thee. For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling,” she said quietly, “Well chosen, my mysterious friend, well chosen.”

  With gentle hands and thoughtful mind, she closed the book, the bookmark a colorful reminder of her unknown hero.

  Chapter 16

  Dubai, United Arab Emirates

  They assembled in the conference room next to Darius’s office one last time. Tomorrow he and Alexandra would be leaving for Jerusalem, and a real-life game of chess would begin in earnest. Darius hoped their plans would keep them several moves ahead of their opponents, but much could go wrong at any time. The familiar faces looked up expectantly, with serious but barely subdued smiles of excitement and anticipation. Noticeably missing was Arash. Darius did not intend to explain his absence, and he doubted anyone would be inclined to inquire.

  “Well, my friends,” he said, “in two days it begins. What we have been working for all these years is about to come to fruition. I know each of you has had different motivations for working on this with me all these years without adequate compensation. I realize each of you could have earned many multiples of what I have paid you working elsewhere. Your amazing loyalty and discretion has not gone unappreciated. At my direction, Dylan has added four billion shares of AQES to each of your accounts. This is my way of saying thank you.”

  There was a shocked look on all of the faces except Dylan’s. He had known of this for several days now, and he just sat there with a look of mock importance.

  “As we agreed, you may start selling your shares when our stock price reaches ten dollars a share. Remember, you must place all of your sell orders through Dylan so that the stock price is not adversely affected. Since none of us knows how this will ultimately play out, I would recommend that each of you sell at least some of your shares when we reach that ten-dollar threshold. We all know Dylan’s modeling has projected a possible share price in excess of one thousand dollars, but I would not take that for granted. At ten dollars a share, each of you will have more money than you can spend in several lifetimes.”