Cloe felt like she had been slapped. She had no power. She was simply a pawn. Michael was the lever. The Karik would use him to get what he wanted from her, and then he would kill them both. Still, something the Karik had said had caught her attention. What was it? Cloe couldn’t focus enough to figure it out. It was something important. It would come to her.
CHAPTER 82
Now seated on the jet, J.E. reflected on the past few hours. The Karik’s hideout had been thoroughly searched and then burned. J.E. had every expectation that after the fire they had set, there would be nothing left but ashes. Evil, he felt, had been pushed back by the flames.
The jet rose, glistening in the morning sun, and in spite of the engine noise, J.E. heard the monsignor’s satellite phone buzz.
“Hello,” said the monsignor. After a bit the monsignor hung up and came over to him. “J.E., that was the ops center.” The priest almost had to yell to be heard over the engines. “The Karik’s plane popped up on radar a while ago. They are headed toward the Middle East.”
“But what’s their destination?” asked J.E.
“Unknown. It could be anywhere in the region,” responded the monsignor.
“Did we find anything at the chalet to help us?” pressed J.E.
“Maybe,” said Father Anton. “My men searched the cell in which we think Cloe and probably Miguel were held during the night. We found something, but we can’t tell if Cloe left it or if it’s just graffiti.”
“What is it?” asked J.E. “We need something to go on.”
“Well, we found the words ‘Gordon’s Cav’ scratched on the wall behind the bunk,” responded the priest. “It was where it could not be seen unless one was looking for it. The v was partially scratched out.”
“Hmmm,” mused the monsignor. “Gordon’s Cav. What could that be? Or should we omit the v and just think of something that starts with ‘Gordon’s Ca’?”
“Well, one thing I know from my military history is there was a famous British general in the late 1900s who was something of a Mideast explorer—General Charles Gordon,” ventured J.E. “Could ‘Cav’ be a reference to cavalry?”
J.E. looked around and saw that everyone was stumped, everyone except Father Sergio; he was chewing on something. “What is it, Serge?” he asked, raising his voice over the sound of the plane’s engines.
“If I remember my religious history correctly, Gordon, a Protestant, was looking for an alternate burial site for Jesus,” said the camerlengo.
“Yes, yes!” cried the monsignor. “The message was not ‘Gordon’s Cav’ but ‘Gordon’s Calvary.’ That’s why Cloe scratched out the v. Gordon thought he discovered not just an alternate burial site but a different site for the crucifixion—in effect, a new and different Calvary.”
“Right, Albert. It’s called Gordon’s Calvary, and the burial site is referred to as the Garden Tomb,” said the young camerlengo.
“What do we know about it?” asked J.E.
“What we know comes straight from the Bible, largely from the Gospel of St. John,” responded the monsignor. “Christ was crucified at a place called Golgotha and buried nearby in a newly hewn rock-cut tomb belonging to Joseph of Arimathaea, a pious man.”
“The orthodox site of Jesus’s burial is within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre,” continued Father Sergio. “The place thought to be Golgotha, or Mount Calvary as it is sometimes described, is nearby.”
“It was hardly a mountain even in those times,” said the monsignor. “It was more of a large rock marking the place of executions. Calvary means ‘skull’ in ancient Latin. This is an equivalent for Golgotha, which means, to some, ‘place of executions.’”
“Amazing, but if that’s where Christ was crucified and buried, what’s all this about an alternate Calvary?” queried J.E. “Surely, all this must have long since been settled.”
“One would think so,” said the monsignor, rubbing his hands together and warming to the details of the story. “However, it seems affairs in Jerusalem, particularly about religion, are never simple and are rarely completely settled. As layer upon layer of history is pulled back by modern science and even amateur exploration, a thing once thought to be fully known and sure may not be so or stay so.”
“Oh, Albert, for goodness’ sake, in point of fact there are issues—some would say problems—with the traditional site at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre,” said the camerlengo impatiently.
“Sergio, you are correct,” said the monsignor. “The site of the burial and nearby crucifixion of Christ at the place now marked by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is plainly within the walls of even ancient Jerusalem. This is part of the problem. It is an undisputed fact that the Jews of that time did not permit a burial within the city except in the case of their kings. So unless the Jews were implicitly accepting Jesus as their king, he could not have been buried within the city walls. Thus, the argument goes that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which is located within the walls, is not the true burial place of Christ. This calls into question the whole location of the crucifixion.”
J.E. looked around at Father Anton and the Swiss to see what their reaction might be to the suggestion that the burial site of Christ, thought to be known and revered for two thousand years, might be in doubt. He smiled to see that the warriors were all fast asleep, saving themselves for more practical challenges to come in the future.
“This is hard to figure,” said J.E. “The Church of the Holy Sepulchre has marked Christ’s traditional burial site for almost two thousand years. Yet you are telling me there’s doubt about this.”
“Yes,” said the camerlengo. “But you have to know a little about how we got there. For the first three or four hundred years of church history, the best written evidence of the location of Calvary and the burial site was in the four Gospels. Variously, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John chronicled that the crucifixion location was outside the walls of Jerusalem at a place known as Calvary. The burial site was in a garden near the place of the crucifixion. It was close to the city but near a road. Of course, everyone agrees that the tomb itself was that of Joseph of Arimathaea, newly hewn out of native rock. That’s it. The exact location for the first several hundred years was handed down by oral tradition.”
“Fascinating,” said the monsignor. “In the time of Constantine, he marked the site with a church, a basilica. This was around the year 326. Since then, numerous churches erected to mark the spot have been burned or destroyed by invaders, and successor churches eventually rebuilt. This has not been a static situation.”
“So what does Gordon’s Calvary have to do with all this?” asked J.E.
“Well, late in the day, in the eighteenth century, people began to question the exact location of the burial site, in part due to the problem of Jewish law making it illegal for burials within the walls of the city,” responded the monsignor. “There were other issues with the orthodox site, but this was the most important one.”
“Later, General Gordon, in the nineteenth century and perhaps with more modern exploration techniques, posited a theory of the true Calvary being outside the city walls at the site now known as Gordon’s Calvary, with the burial site at the Garden Tomb,” said Father Sergio.
“Why would anyone believe that Gordon’s Calvary was the true site after so many years of venerating the orthodox site at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre?” asked J.E.
“Well, as we have discussed, the Jewish tradition of not burying anyone but their kings within the city walls is a given fact that’s very difficult to refute,” replied the monsignor. “Lately, the exercise has turned to trying to identify exactly where the ancient walls at the time of Christ might have been located. The thought is that perhaps there is an even more ancient wall than is known today that might have left the Holy Sepulchre site outside.”
“Has anything like that been discovered?” asked J.E.
“There’s nothing satisfactory as of now,” replied Father Sergio, speaking over the engines
. “So we are left with a dilemma. The Gospels and Jewish tradition are clear that the site was outside the walls of the city, but the Holy Sepulchre is within the known walls. Either there was another wall or …”
“Or what?” queried J.E., beginning to grow impatient and wondering how this could lead them to his mother.
“Or,” said the camerlengo, “as we’ve been discussing, the site thought to be the very site of Christ’s death and burial for two thousand years, and venerated as such, is not the correct location.”
CHAPTER 83
In Jerusalem, the air was cool, and a light rain was coming off the mountains. All the Karik’s men and their equipment were loaded in two large vans. Cloe heard the Karik discussing his options with Noosh. He wanted to leave his main body of men at the airport and go into the city with a smaller group to search Gordon’s Calvary for clues of the jars. But he couldn’t know whether the trail was a short one or a long one. Everything he knew suggested that this was only a way-stop and not the final destination. But where was the end point? Was it a mile away or a thousand miles? Therefore, not knowing, he had to take everybody and everything with him. Cloe realized this would slow him down.
In the van, Cloe gazed out the window as they sped through the Old City. She could not help but remember a similar journey months earlier when she was the captive of the Kolektor. Where would this path end? she wondered.
The Karik said, “Dr. Lejeune, in my time with my master, he talked occasionally of Gordon’s Calvary. What do you know of this place?”
“Not much, Karik,” she responded. “Some rubbish about an alternate site for the death and burial of Christ.”
“Rubbish?” mused the Karik. “I wonder. There is so much under heaven and earth that is not known. We shall see.”
Cloe thought about this response. Had she misjudged this man? There seemed more depth in his contemplation. As she watched, they pulled into the back parking lot of a modern bus station.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
“We are near the place of Gordon’s Calvary,” responded Noosh.
These were the first words the servant had spoken directly to her, and she could sense his excitement at the moment. She wondered if Noosh might be a closet Christian. She studied him closely and thought he might be of Middle Eastern origin, perhaps Egyptian. Could he be a Coptic? She realized it was more likely that he was Armenian like most of the others in the Karik’s employ, but many Armenians were also Christians.
As she exited the van and looked around, Cloe was almost paralyzed by the irony. Here she was in the back parking lot of a contemporary bus station searching for a site that might be the alternate location of a two-thousand-year-old crucifixion and burial.
“Karik, there must be some mistake,” she said as one of the buses, belching smoke, pulled out loaded with travelers. “There’s nothing here but asphalt and buses.”
The Karik seemed to be caught up in the mystery and majesty of the moment, but he said nothing. He simply stared off in the distance at a rock cliff formation.
“Dr. Lejeune, what do you see there?” asked Noosh respectfully, pointing at the rock face.
Cloe turned and studied the rocks, and suddenly her breath was taken from her. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.
“Yes,” the Karik said matter-of-factly.
“It’s … a skull!” she said, looking at the gaunt openings of granite eye sockets and a gross aperture that appeared to be a stony mouth, all framed by the cliff face. In between, there was a rock slash of a nose. It was like looking at a puzzle whose disparate features suddenly come into focus.
“Golgotha!” cried Noosh.
CHAPTER 84
“The Karik’s plane descended below our radar, but our satellites tell us it landed in Jerusalem,” said the chief of the spy monks in the Vatican ops center on the other end of the satellite link, now on speaker with volume turned up fully.
“Father Emilio, we need to know anything you and your monks can tell us about Gordon’s Calvary,” said J.E.
“We have a good deal of historical information on General Gordon and his theory of finding an alternate Calvary,” replied Father Emilio. “I’ll relay what we have by e-mail link to your phones.”
“Thank you, Reverend Father,” responded the monsignor as they all made ready for landing.
J.E. gazed out the window and wondered what this all might bring. It seemed a little like he had been here before. Was this in another hour or another lifetime? he wondered. Surely, every soldier on the eve of battle had such introspections. But those musings were for philosophers, he realized. He was about duty, and he would perform his.
J.E. looked around and saw that the men were preparing for what might be ahead. Weapons had long since been cleaned and recleaned. Most were smaller weapons that could be concealed under their clothing. It had been decided, given the urban nature of the expected terrain, that the heavier weapons would be left in the airplanes. The men were now changing into local clothing that had been secured in Rome. Some were in Arab-style robes, others in slacks and jackets. Still others wore more touristy clothes—shorts, sandals, and the like. They planned to blend into whatever crowds they found.
“Monsignor, what about Father Anton and his contingent?” asked J.E. as he began to read the incoming information from the ops center on Gordon’s Calvary. “What’s their ETA?”
“They are not far behind us, and at my last contact with Father Anton, he figured to land about thirty minutes after us,” responded the priest.
“Good, we’ll get in and get things on the ground organized,” said J.E.
“No need to worry about that,” said the monsignor. “Father Emilio has called ahead to arrange for transportation and trusted local drivers who know the area very well. What are your orders?”
“We will leave Miguel with one of the Swiss Guards at the airport,” said J.E. “When Father Anton and his men come in, leave one man with Miguel, and then have all our fighting men follow us.”
“Good,” responded the monsignor. “Our man can look after Miguel and make sure the airplanes are protected and are ready to go when we need them.”
“Yes,” responded J.E., once again assuming the mantle of command. “We’ll go on ahead and establish an observation post at this Gordon’s Calvary to determine the situation. When Father Anton and his men catch up, we’ll be ready to take the necessary action, whatever that might be.”
CHAPTER 85
Almost at once, Noosh rose, collected himself, and ordered some of his men to take up an unobtrusive defensive perimeter around them. The rest were directed to stay with the vehicles. There was no one else to be seen in this area just now because what tourists there were in this off-season seemed to be occupied elsewhere. Cloe, the Karik, and Noosh followed the cliff face westward. Cloe was able to get a perspective on the knoll, the cliff face of which was the rocky skull. It rounded off at the top, and there were shrines marking something, but she could not make out what.
“Some people believe this is the place of executions, also referred to as the place of stoning,” said the Karik. “My master the Kolektor was intrigued by it and the work of General Charles Gordon here.”
“I have heard of this,” responded Cloe, pulled in by the collegial repartee. “Wasn’t there something about the martyrdom of St. Stephen?”
“Yes, it is believed in many quarters that up there on the top of the hill is where Stephen was stoned,” replied the Karik. “This area was clearly located outside the city’s walls in Christ’s time, and this place of executions could have been the location of the crucifixion. It would have been highly visible to travelers on the main northern road, and that, with the skull-like appearance of the rock face, would have acted as a powerful deterrent to criminal acts.”
As they moved on and approached a smaller knoll, Cloe could see it had been excavated at some point. It had a rather flat facade with an open door gaping in the center. A smaller portal was fixed in t
he wall to the upper right of the door. A niche along the front of the door could, she thought, have at one point housed a stone to be rolled across the doorway to close it. Cloe hugged her arms across her chest. Even though the day had warmed up a bit, she felt cold chills and goose bumps up and down her arms.
“My God,” she said. “Could this be it? Could this be the actual burial site of Christ?”
“I don’t know or care right now, but this is where you said to go. This is Gordon’s Calvary, and now here is the Garden Tomb,” said the Karik. “If you want to see your friend again, get to work and find my jars.”
The jars, thought Cloe. She had been so taken by the possibilities of this place, the jars had fled from her mind for a moment. One look at the tomb, though, told Cloe the jars could not be here. It was too public and seemed too small to hide what Thib had described seeing in the cave. The best they could hope for was some sort of clue to lead somewhere else. Another bread crumb from the Sicarii?
Cloe moved toward the entrance to the tomb, once again feeling almost in a daze over the enormity of what see was seeing. She might be tracing the very footsteps of Mary of Magdala on the morning of the resurrection. Cloe stumbled on the niche that at one time might have held the stone. Stooping to catch her balance, she looked into the mouth of the cave-like tomb. Although it was not artificially lit, the sunlight from the door and the window spilled into the tomb, illuminating it. It was clearly hewn from solid stone, as noted in St. Luke’s Gospel. From where she was, she could see two chambers: a sort of anteroom that she knew from her work was called a “crying room” and then, off to the right, an interment niche in the burial chamber itself.
“My God,” she said. “This may be the very spot on which Peter and the other disciple crouched to look into the tomb.”
Cloe felt lightheaded but grabbed the edge of the rock-face door and slowly stood. As she did, she stepped into the antechamber. She turned right and went down two small steps into the death room. This space was about six feet by nine feet or slightly smaller. To the left was the burial niche she had seen from the door, and to the right were two smaller unfinished nooks. The head space of the larger niche had been hollowed out somewhat as if a man larger than the intended occupant had been laid there. The window admitted light into this room.
The Last Sicarius Page 24