Eddie nodded. ‘So it’s the way to the last angel?’
‘Most likely.’ She went to the neighbouring opening, taking a flashlight from her backpack and shining it inside. A short tunnel opened out into a chamber, but it appeared empty. ‘This was an important religious site, but it was also a shelter where the Israelites could hold out against their enemies. They supposedly wandered in the wilderness for forty years, but the desert’s not that big. The Old Testament books concerning the Exodus are very vague about the timescale. They probably established settlements at various points along the way – or fortifications, in this case. There was a water supply here, so they took advantage of it.’
Jared checked another archway. ‘This one’s empty too,’ he announced, disappointed.
‘It’s a big find, though. Even if there isn’t anything else here, I think this is definitely one of the stations of the Exodus. That’ll keep the archaeologists busy – and the theologians arguing.’ Nina returned to the left-hand tunnel and cautiously entered it, taking off her sunglasses and shining her light around the walls and ceiling. Faded paintings were revealed on the stone, images of people and animals framed by elaborate patterns. ‘These are a lot like the ones in the catacombs.’
‘No traps?’ Eddie asked, joining her.
‘Not yet. But look, the tunnel slants upwards.’ The beam fell upon a steeply sloping floor.
‘Great,’ said Jared gloomily. ‘It really is like the Spring of Immortality.’
‘I don’t think there’ll be any killer statues or giant crabs,’ said Nina as she started up the passage. ‘But let’s be careful, huh?’
They proceeded deeper into the mountain. The tunnel’s walls had been smoothed by both hand and time, giving the undulating passage an unsettlingly organic feeling. Its colour changed as they climbed through different strata. Stubs of side passages occasionally branched off, copper deposits having been grubbed from the rock, though more often than not the valuable metal had been left in situ. Eddie paused to rub one of the seams. ‘Wonder why they stopped mining it?’
‘Out of reverence, I’d imagine,’ said Nina, examining a wall painting. Unlike those at the entrance, which showed general scenes of the Israelites’ lives, this was clearly religious in nature: robed figures standing with their heads bowed before a tent in the desert. ‘This tunnel seems to be going somewhere important – maybe a temple. Once it was established, mining was probably considered disrespectful.’
Jared peered at the image as Nina moved away. ‘What is it?’ Eddie asked.
‘The tent . . . I think it’s the Tabernacle. The shrine to God that the Israelites carried with them,’ he explained, seeing the Yorkshireman’s quizzical look.
‘The Tabernacle of the Covenant,’ said Nina. ‘Where they kept the Ark.’
‘What, like the lost Ark?’ Eddie asked. ‘As in, Raiders of the?’
‘That’s right. The actual one.’
‘Wow. If you found that, it might finally make you more famous than Indiana Jones.’
‘I’ve had more than enough of being famous, thanks!’ she said firmly.
They continued upwards. ‘It’s getting damp,’ Nina observed before long. In places, the walls had a faint sheen, some of the painted scenes smeared by water and mould.
Eddie sniffed. ‘Something smells a bit dodgy.’
‘It might be these.’ She played her light over something low on the wall. A small patch of bulbous white mushrooms was growing on the glistening stone. ‘Fungi.’
‘Yeah, I know I am.’
‘What? Oh God,’ she added with rolled eyes as she got the pun. Eddie chuckled. ‘There are more up ahead.’
The walls were indeed home to other colonies of the fungal growths. They were so pale in colour that they almost seemed to glow in the reflected light. But Jared was already looking past them. ‘Hey, I can see something.’ He moved to investigate.
Eddie and Nina followed. ‘Okay, we found where the smell’s coming from,’ the Englishman announced, wrinkling his nose.
A vertical shaft thirty feet in diameter opened out before them, dropping into darkness below. The walls were home to more mushrooms, the largest bigger than a clenched fist. A faint light came from what Nina at first thought were small holes in the ragged ceiling high above, before closer inspection revealed that the milky glow was actually being refracted through veins of some type of translucent crystal.
But the most arresting feature was man-made.
A narrow bridge of blackened wood led across the chasm to an archway flush with the wall on the far side, the opening barricaded by a heavy door. A now-familiar symbol was marked upon it: the menorah of the twenty-four Elders. Beside the entrance, a large nook had been carved from the rock, numerous small objects sitting within. ‘Careful,’ Nina warned. ‘That doesn’t look safe.’
Eddie moved to get a look at the crossing’s supports. ‘No kidding.’
He retreated so Nina could see. The near end of the rickety bridge was supported by what she could only think of as a hinge; the whole thing seemed designed to plunge intruders into the pit below.
She dropped a loose stone over the edge. A faint splash echoed back up the shaft after a couple of seconds. ‘It must be a cenote,’ she mused. ‘There’s a reservoir at the bottom; it might even join up with the sinkhole outside. And this’ – she waved her hand at the bridge – ‘is a trap to tip people into it.’
‘I’ll go back and get some rope,’ said Eddie.
‘No, wait a minute. Look at that.’ She shone her flashlight at the nook. Set into its back was a piece of glinting metal: a bronze slab almost a foot wide and several inches deep. There was a slit in the rock beneath it, through which a rod protruded to support the shelf. ‘We’ve seen something like that before, in the Atlantean temple in Brazil. It’s a weighing scale.’
‘To weigh what?’ asked Jared.
‘Those.’ She shifted the beam to pick out the objects below the scale: stones of various sizes. ‘There’s more text by the door. It’s some sort of test; a puzzle. It probably tells you what you have to do to get in.’
‘Which you’ve got to cross the bridge to read,’ Eddie said dubiously.
‘Yeah, that’s kinda worrying. But I don’t think it automatically throws everybody who tries to cross down the shaft. It’s more likely that it only catches people who fail the test. The people who knew the answer, the ones who built this place, could come and go as they wanted.’
Jared conducted his own examination of the bridge. ‘That may have been true when they built it. But look at it! It’s falling apart. If it really was made by the Israelites, then it’s over three thousand years old.’
‘It might not be as old as you think,’ Nina countered. ‘The people who hid the angels, the Elders, did so a long time after the Exodus. John of Patmos discovered their writings in the Library of Pergamon, and that wasn’t founded until around 350 BC.’
Eddie made a sarcastic sound. ‘Oh, so it’s only over two thousand years old. That makes it completely safe.’
‘The site may have still been used for a long time after that, though.’
‘Or it might not. Seriously, don’t even think about crossing it until we get some ropes.’
‘I’ll go back for them,’ said Jared. ‘Wait here for me.’
‘Don’t bloody worry, we’re not going anywhere!’ the Englishman told him. Jared smiled and headed back down the tunnel.
Nina watched him go, then moved to the bridge. ‘Oi,’ said Eddie.
‘What?’
‘You’re thinking about putting a foot on it, aren’t you? Just to test your theory.’
‘No I wasn’t,’ she said, not entirely convincingly.
He shook his head. ‘I dunno. You say you’re done with all this stuff, but give you half a chance and you’re back climbing cliffs to reach ancient temples. Even when you’re pregnant.’
The words had been spoken with humour, but Nina’s expression revealed that she had taken them very serio
usly indeed. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘I’m worried that . . . that I’m going to be a bad mom,’ she admitted in a quiet voice.
Eddie was surprised. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ She held out both hands to encompass their surroundings. ‘I’m four months pregnant, and I’m in a cave halfway up a mountain in the middle of a desert looking for an ancient relic with the power to kill thousands of people! I should be going to Lamaze classes or pigging out with a big tub of chocolate fudge ice cream.’
‘Just because you’re having a baby doesn’t make you an invalid. And it doesn’t mean you have to give up everything else, either.’
‘That’s the thing, though,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to give this up. Not now; not at all. And that’s why I’m worried about becoming a mother – because I’ll have to give it up. Which makes me . . . selfish. We’re having a child, but I just keep thinking about how that’ll stop me from . . . from doing what I do.’
She turned away from him, looking down into the darkness of the cenote. ‘You know what’s weird? We were both dragged into this in the worst way possible, but now that we’re free . . . I’m almost glad I’m here. I could have told Oswald to hand this over to someone at the IHA, but I wanted to do it. I wanted to do it,’ she repeated, with emphasis. ‘I deliberately chose to do something that could be dangerous, even though I’m pregnant. What the hell kind of mother does that?’
‘But . . . you do still want a child?’ Eddie asked hesitantly.
‘Yes, I do – of course I do!’ She looked down at the slight swell of her abdomen. ‘I want us to have a baby together. But it’s kind of scary, and I hadn’t realised just how scary because I had other issues going on. First I was in denial about how much Macy’s death had affected me, and because of that I was hyper-obsessed with working on the book – and then I was blocked because I was depressed and not sure if everything I’d done in my life was actually worth it.’
‘You were?’ he asked, surprised.
‘I wasn’t seeing a shrink to get over my fear of public speaking. And I know I should have told you exactly why I was having therapy, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to burden you with my psychological problems.’
‘Yeah, you should have done,’ he said, though with sympathy rather than in remonstration. ‘We’re married. Being burdened with your problems is sort of my job! But just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean you have to give up everything important to you. It just means you need to change how you do it. You can still write your book, for a start.’ He moved up behind her. ‘And since you’re not at the IHA any more, maybe you can do some of that “proper” archaeology you go on about, and dig little bits of junk out of the dirt instead of being surrounded by gunfire and explosions.’
‘I could definitely live with that,’ she said, managing a small smile, albeit brief.
Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist. ‘You can do anything you put your mind to; I know you, you’re too bloody stubborn to give up! Trust me, you’ll be a great mum.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nina glumly. ‘I really don’t know if I will . . .’
Echoing footsteps signalled Jared’s return. ‘I brought the rope and some gear,’ the Israeli called as he reappeared.
‘Good lad,’ said Eddie. ‘Okay, let’s set this up.’
Nina watched as they pounded a pair of pitons into the rock wall, then fixed the rope to them. ‘You do realise that if the bridge collapses when you cross it, you’ll swing back and slam into the wall, right?’
‘Course I do,’ her husband replied. ‘That’s why I’m sending the kid!’
Jared gave him a startled look, which quickly became one of smug superiority. ‘Actually, I was going to volunteer anyway. You can’t leave something like this to an unsteady old man.’
‘You keep thinking that,’ said Eddie. He secured the rope to the younger man’s harness. ‘You sure you want to do this?’ he asked, more concerned.
Jared looked down into the pit’s inky depths. ‘No . . . but somebody has to, and my mom really would be disappointed in me if I let a pregnant woman risk it!’
‘Thank you, Jared,’ said Nina, with an appreciative nod.
‘I’ll play out the rope to you,’ said Eddie, picking up the coil of nylon line. ‘If the bridge looks like it’s going to give way, run right back. If you fall, I’ll catch you.’
Now the Israeli was the appreciative one, although he couldn’t resist making a crack. ‘Hope your withered arms can take the weight, alter kocker.’
‘Or I could fucking kick you over there . . . Ready?’
Jared steeled himself. ‘Yeah.’
‘Okay. Watch yourself.’
The Israeli cautiously put one foot on the narrow bridge. The old wooden beams had been dried out over flames to harden them; even so, they creaked. He edged forward. ‘Seems solid so far.’
‘Your weight’s still being taken by that hinge,’ Nina reminded him, her nervousness growing. ‘Please be careful.’
‘Don’t worry, I will!’ He aimed his flashlight down at the bridge, then advanced until he was clear of the support. The creaks grew in volume as he shuffled along . . . then eased.
Nina let out a relieved breath. ‘Thank God.’
‘You’re doing fine,’ Eddie called, carefully letting out more rope. ‘Just take it easy. You’re about a third of the way there.’
Jared moved on – then abruptly stopped. ‘Some of the planks are missing.’
‘Then don’t step on the holes!’
The advice drew a glare, but he adjusted his step to traverse the gap. The next intact board held, though with a raspy protest. A second space, wider, but this too he successfully crossed. ‘It’s holding.’
‘Great,’ said Eddie, trying not to let his concern show. He knew that a loss of confidence could be as dangerous as any broken plank. ‘You’re almost halfway across. Just keep going, nice and steady.’
Jared used his torch to check the remainder of the bridge. ‘There aren’t any more gaps,’ he said as he took another careful step. ‘I should be able—’
Crack!
Nina shrieked as the gunshot snap of breaking wood echoed around the cenote. Jared staggered, trying to regain his balance . . .
He failed. Arms flailing, he toppled towards the abyss.
26
Eddie yanked the rope, pulling Jared on to his back just before he plunged. The whole bridge shook. The Israeli’s flashlight spun away into the darkness below as he grabbed at the crossing. ‘Jared!’ yelled the Yorkshireman, reeling in the line. ‘Hold on, I’ve got you!’
Jared secured himself. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay!’
Eddie held the line taut. ‘You sure?’
The younger man waited until the bridge stopped shuddering, then very slowly sat up. More moans came from the supports, but the structure held. ‘Yes! Let it out again so I can get up.’
Reluctantly, Eddie did so. Jared cautiously rose to a crouch. Nina aimed her flashlight to illuminate the bridge ahead of him. He surveyed the dusty wood, then continued onwards with great care. Eddie played the rope out in his wake.
The Mossad agent passed the three-quarters mark – then froze, as did Nina and Eddie, as a pole cracked beneath him. The structure swayed . . . then steadied. Nina shone her light at the supports. ‘I think it’s okay,’ she said.
‘How does the bridge feel?’ Eddie asked Jared.
The Israeli glanced back. ‘About two thousand years old! Nina, can you give me more light?’
She brought the beam to the top side of the crossing. Jared composed himself, then set off again. Five feet to go, three . . . ‘There,’ he said with a gasp of relief. ‘Okay, I’m going to secure the rope.’
It did not take long to hammer another two pitons into place and fasten the line to them. Eddie tested that it was firmly secured by hanging beneath it. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘we can get across without worrying about falling into t
he lair of the white worm.’
Nina raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay, your movie references keep getting more obscure.’
‘Now we need to get that door open. I’m guessing the dynamite method isn’t going to be approved.’
‘Nope,’ she told him. ‘Jared, come back over so I can look at the scale. We shouldn’t risk having two people on the bridge at once.’
‘Or even one person,’ Eddie said.
Jared remained in place, examining the alcove beside the door. ‘No, you’ll need my help. There’s more ancient Hebrew here.’
‘Okay,’ Nina decided reluctantly. ‘Translate as much of it as you can and tell me what it says.’
He nodded. ‘I need a light.’
Eddie held up his own torch. ‘Hope you can catch better than you can walk across bridges.’
‘Yeah, yeah, old man. Just throw it to me.’
Eddie tossed the torch across the gap; Jared caught it with one hand. ‘Show-off.’
The Israeli grinned, then directed the light at the alcove. ‘What do you see?’ Nina asked.
‘There are about thirty stones, all different sizes,’ he reported. ‘Each one has a letter carved into it . . . No, wait, they must be numbers. I can read parts of the text. It says that God’s number is seven, and then something about . . . wisdom, needing wisdom?’ He was silent for a long moment, scanning the ancient words. ‘Okay, I think it says that you have to prove your wisdom, I guess, to get through the door. You were right about it being a test. You have to know the . . . the number of a man?’
An idea had already formed in Nina’s mind at the mention of the word wisdom, and now it came to her in a flash of – appropriately enough – revelation. ‘That’s right!’ she called, excited. ‘It is the number of a man. I don’t remember the exact chapter and verse from Revelation, but I know what it says: “Let him that hath understanding” – or wisdom in some translations – “count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man.”’
‘That sounds familiar,’ said Eddie. ‘You’re about to quote some Iron Maiden lyrics, aren’t you?’
‘Not quite. The King James Version isn’t as catchy. But according to John of Patmos, the number of the Beast is “six hundred threescore and six”.’
The Revelation Code Page 30