Indisputable Proof

by Gary Williams

  “We’ll discuss it later,” Tolen reassured her. “For now, we must proceed expediently.”

  Jade shot a suspicious gaze from Diaz to Tolen before turning back to the stone. “Do either of you have a pocket knife?”

  Diaz removed one from his trouser pocket and handed it to Jade. “It is an heirloom from my grandfather in Tolédo. Please do not break it.”

  Jade took the knife, opened it, and wedged the tip of the blade into the narrow crevice while Tolen held light to the area.

  A sharp crack behind caused all three to turn. Diaz quickly pulled his HK USP Compact 9mm and had it leveled into the darkness of the tree cover beyond. He looked to Tolen, who brandished his pistol in the same manner. Tolen shined his flashlight over the grounds where the light was all but sucked up in the darkness. After several seconds of silence, both men holstered their weapons. Diaz realized the sound had probably been a tree branch breaking under the weight of some small creature.

  “Please continue,” Tolen said, urging Jade on.

  The Brit went back to work on the stone, slowly working the tip of the blade along the cutout. Within minutes, she had whittled a reasonably deep crevice following the circular outline. Then she used the tip of the blade to try to pry the stone plug out. Diaz winced as he watched the blade tip bend almost to the breaking point without any movement of the stone.

  “It won’t come out,” she said, discouraged. “It may not be a plug, after all.”

  “I doubt you can apply the leverage needed with that blade,” Tolen remarked.

  Suddenly, the roar of an engine split the night. At the far end near the library building where they had entered the courtyard, a set of headlights lanced into the darkness. A vehicle raced through the web of tree trunks, the engine whining and tires squealing as they transitioned from hard ground to pavement. The vehicle turned, targeting them in its headlights.

  It was barreling straight toward them.

  Tolen grabbed Jade’s arm, and slung her away into a patch of nearby low ground ferns. Tolen and Diaz drew their weapons. Tolen dropped into a shooter’s position on one knee, but Diaz remained upright, uncertain if he should move out of the car’s path or hold his ground. He took a nervous step to the side, and then steadied himself. Tolen did not budge.

  The car lunged forward, negotiating between the trees. The churn of the engine grew louder. The headlights were nearly blinding as Diaz tried to shield his eyes with one hand while continuing to aim with the other. Finally, he could wait no longer and fired several shots in succession. Instead of slowing, the car increased speed, the engine raging. The white lights blocked out everything. Diaz sent several more shots to a spot just above the right headlight hoping to get lucky and hit the unseen driver. The vehicle closed quickly. Diaz felt a wave of nausea.

  Tolen had yet to fire a shot.

  “Shoot, damn you!” Diaz barked at Tolen.

  There was a single deafening pop. The headlights veered slightly, and Diaz dove to the side, landing hard on the brick pavement. A torturous groan of iron followed. The right front of the car slammed into the stone sphere, knocking it from its perch, sending it ambling slowly toward the side of the Peabody Museum Building…and Jade. She frantically rolled away, barely out of its path. After a dozen feet, the sphere struck the wall with a thud. The car came to a violent halt as the undercarriage caught on the now-empty stone pedestal. The air suddenly filled with the smell of gas and oil. The headlight beams knifed ahead, lighting the stone sphere where it had come to rest against the dented wall. The motor raced, sputtered, and died. Everything went quiet.

  Diaz rose to his feet breathing heavily. He had no idea what had happened to Tolen until he saw the CIA agent quickly approach the vehicle, open the passenger door and lean in with his gun aimed inside. Tolen stood upright and looked over the car at Diaz. “He’s dead.”

  Jade was still on the ground. The 600-pound stone sphere had missed crushing her by inches. She pushed herself up, too dazed to bother brushing off the grass and twigs which stuck to her hair and clothing. One knee was cut and bleeding. In the spotlight, she cast a long, lean shadow on the stone and the building wall behind her.

  Diaz and Jade joined Tolen at the vehicle. Diaz went to the driver’s side and reached in, pushing the body off the steering wheel and removing the dead man’s wallet. He could now see the man was older, sixty or maybe even seventy years old. A bullet had entered his forehead. “Is this Boyd Ramsey?” he asked Tolen.

  Tolen shook his head. “No.”

  Jade walked away, holding a hand before her mouth as if she might be sick.

  Diaz turned his attention back to the body. He read the man’s identity, “California driver’s license, Richard Mox, from Santa Barbara.” He looked up at Tolen. “Do you know this man?”

  “No, but I’ll have Tiffany Bar check him out.”

  Diaz looked over the vehicle with increasing familiarity. “Isn’t this our car?”

  Tolen nodded. “Which begs the question: what happened to Jason Weedly?”

  “Look at this!” Jade exclaimed.

  Diaz looked up. Jade was standing next to the stone sphere, framed by the headlights soaking the wall. “The plug fell out!” She excitedly pointed to the dark circular hole near the top of the sphere.

  Diaz and Tolen approached. Tolen shined his flashlight inside the cavity for everyone to see. It was cylindrical, approximately eight inches deep with smooth walls and a flat base. There was nothing inside.

  “This has been a waste of time,” Diaz commented.

  “Obviously not or that man wouldn’t have tried to kill us,” Tolen said with a thoughtful look.

  Tolen dipped his head and scanned the ground. His eyes traced a path back toward the car. Jade trailed behind.

  “You think something fell out of the stone sphere?” she asked.

  He did not respond.

  Diaz followed Tolen and Jade as they walked back toward the vehicle. They moved off the pavement into the low fern hedge, where Jade had been thrown by Tolen. The headlight beams created a mosaic of patchy visibility through the low foliage.

  “There!” Jade pointed to a recessed area hidden from the light. At first, Diaz saw nothing. Tolen and Jade squatted, and Diaz followed. Sure enough, there was a small heap of light-colored objects in the vegetation. Jade carefully lifted one and examined it. Tolen shined his flashlight on the tiny pile.

  “They’re rock fragments; what’s left of the plug,” Jade said, turning the piece over in her hand, eyeing it meticulously.

  Tolen lifted a piece from the ground. He nodded his concurrence. He nudged aside another fragment.

  Jade stared at the small rock in Tolen’s hand, then carefully picked through the jagged pieces on the ground.

  Diaz noticed a line of blood stretched from her knee to her ankle. Even with the distraction, he found himself briefly admiring the form of her bare leg.

  After a few moments, Jade drew in a sharp breath. Her hand was frozen in mid-air over the tiny pile. Then she slowly lowered it, and pushed aside one of the larger rocks. Underneath it was a long, thin, tan object. To Diaz, it resembled a dirty cigarette.

  Jade lifted the object delicately. Diaz saw her fingers tremble. He had no idea what she had found, but it must be significant.

  “Is that rolled parchment?” Tolen asked, focusing the flashlight on it.

  Jade looked to both men, and nodded absently as if in utter disbelief. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

  “What does it mean?” Diaz asked.

  Jade looked to Tolen, who nodded his head reassuringly as if to say, go ahead and unroll it.

  Jade twirled the tiny roll slowly in her fingers until a loose flap appeared. She tenderly tugged on the edge of paper and began to unwind it, stretching it the entire six inche
s in length. It had writing that was unfamiliar to Diaz.

  “Oh brilliant!” Jade exclaimed. “It’s ancient Hebrew. This was most likely penned by Joseph of Arimathea!”

  “Can you read it?” Tolen asked.

  “Yes,” Jade responded breathlessly. She swallowed and read it aloud slowly:

  Search for the three stone jars. They will be found when you look for what was offered on the first day. The first jar is at my tomb. Travel from the south. My tomb is through the three-sided rock doorway at the sea.

  CHAPTER 13

  September 11. Tuesday – 4:39 a.m. Cambridge, Massachusetts

  Tolen, Jade, and Diaz returned to the plane at Taylor Hughes Airport by taxi. They had been unable to locate the young driver, Jason Weedly. It appeared that Richard Mox had killed him and stashed the body in order to steal the vehicle.

  Tolen had an uneasy feeling regarding Mox’s actions. Frankly, it made no sense. It had been a weak attack, a desperate plan to try to kill them. Nothing on the man or in the vehicle suggested affiliation with the “True Sons of Light.” The fact that Mox worked alone was equally puzzling.

  Tolen talked briefly to Bar on the cab ride back from Harvard. He asked her to check on the dead driver and to engage the local Cambridge police regarding the incident, the corpse in the university courtyard, and the missing young man. There was no time for them to get caught up in a police investigation, and Bar would justify Tolen and company leaving the crime scene due to a domestic terrorism threat identified by the CIA. They could do so without giving specific details, and it would appease the local authorities.

  Jade had remained contemplative, studying the small parchment during the cab ride. Now, on board the plane, she laid it gently on a side stand, took a napkin doused with water and rubbed the blood from her leg. As she did, she looked hard at Tolen.

  He knew the question was coming. Diaz had spilled the secret.

  “What about the Sudarium? It’s been stolen, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Tolen admitted. He had decided telling Jade the truth would not jeopardize their mission. In fact, it might enhance their efforts. He could deal with the repercussions from Vakind. “It has to be returned to the Cathedral of San Salvador in Oviedo, Spain, before 9:00 a.m. this Friday for the start of the Feast of the Cross. If not, all hell’s going to break loose.”

  Jade nodded. She did not appear angry. In fact, her expression was pained, as if she were hurt at not being included in the circle of information. “This is exactly why we must reach the treasure of Jesus’ artifacts before this radical group does.”

  “Why? We have the only clue: the parchment. Surely, the location of your treasure is secure now,” Diaz said.

  Tolen smiled.

  Jade cocked her head. “What?”

  “By finding this first clue, we’ve elevated our stature,” Tolen began. “We’re not only the group’s target, we’re now their number one priority. We will continue the search and allow the ‘True Sons of Light’ to come for us. This is how we’ll find Boyd Ramsey.”

  “That’s a comforting thought,” Jade said. “Who is Boyd Ramsey?”

  “He’s the CIA analyst I mentioned before,” Tolen took a few minutes to explain, including the murder of Diaz’s brother, Javier, at the Cathedral of San Salvador.

  Shortly after takeoff, Tolen’s cell phone dinged and he answered.

  “Well, your Mr. Mox was a very unremarkable man,” Bar started immediately upon hearing Tolen’s voice. “Seventy-two-year-old widower, retired from the public sector in archaeology six years ago, working for the State of California. No criminal arrests, but he had run up some gambling debts and was headed for bankruptcy. You may find it interesting that in 1986, before he worked for California, Mox participated in the excavation of a first-century fishing boat at the northwestern shore of the Sea of Galilee in Israel. The boat is considered to be the same type Jesus and his disciples used.”

  “I recall the discovery,” Tolen remarked. “Anything else?”

  “We have a team going through Mox’s house, but nothing so far. I’ll keep digging to see what I can uncover. Oh by the way, police and university officials weren’t thrilled with what you did to the campus courtyard, not to mention the damage to the stone sphere, building wall, and the corpse you left behind. They did find Jason Weedly alive, though. He was tied up and gagged in some nearby bushes. Did you find what you were looking for there?”

  “Yes, please advise Director Vakind we’re on our way to Costa Rica.”

  Tolen concluded the call and shared the information with Diaz and Jade.

  “What was the discovery Bar mentioned to you?” Jade asked.

  “Mox was part of an archaeological excavation of an early-Christian-era fishing boat in the Sea of Galilee in the 80s. Curiously, though, there’s nothing in his background to suggest terrorist activity. In fact, the man appeared quite grounded,” Tolen paused momentarily. “Let’s focus on the Hebrew writing.” He motioned toward the parchment.

  Jade lifted it carefully and held it in her lap as Diaz looked on.

  Tolen removed a laptop from underneath his seat where it had been secured. Two were kept on board at all times. The second was in the cockpit with Reba Zee.

  He pulled up a text document program and had Jade translate the Hebrew once again so he could document it in English. He typed as she read it:

  Search for the three stone jars. They will be found when you look for what was offered on the first day. The first jar is at my tomb. Travel from the south. My tomb is through the three-sided rock doorway at the sea.

  “Quite a riddle,” Diaz remarked.

  “What are your thoughts?” Tolen looked to Jade.

  “Well,” she exhaled, “the first line of text seems straightforward. We have to find three stone receptacles. I have no idea what ‘look for what was offered on the first day’ means. It’s too vague.”

  “Interesting that the message specifies three stone jars,” Tolen said. “The number three is often used in reference to Jesus: he preached three years, on the third day he arose from the dead, Peter denied him three times, three men were executed on the cross—Jesus and the two thieves—he was thirty-three at the time of his crucifixion, three entities in the Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

  Jade stared at Tolen curiously. “Is biblical ideology a hobby? You seem to have more than just a passing knowledge on the subject.”

  Tolen responded with a mere smile. “The next three lines reference the location of Joseph of Arimathea’s tomb. ‘The first jar is at my tomb. Travel from the south. My tomb is through the three-sided rock doorway at the sea.’ ”

  “It’s vague,” Diaz said.

  “ ‘Travel from the south,’ suggests south is the point of origin and implies the tomb is to the north. Keep in mind the stone sphere was originally in or near Palmar Sur, Costa Rica, so it’s somewhere north of there.”

  “Well, now, that narrows it down,” Diaz said, arching his eyebrows to emphasize his sarcasm.

  “Not really,” Tolen conceded, “but the final line does: ‘My tomb is through the three-sided rock doorway at the sea.’ Coincidentally, it’s another reference to the number three.”

  “You know what is meant by a three-sided rock doorway?” Jade asked, leaning forward. There was a sparkle in her eye that had been there since they first found the tiny roll of parchment.

  “No, but at the sea implies the shoreline.” He brought up an Internet search engine and conducted a search using the terms, “three-sided,” “rock,” “doorway,” “Costa Rica.” While it returned thousands of hits, nothing appeared to be a landmark at the coastline. He tried again using ‘three-sided,’ ‘opening,’ ‘Caribbean Sea,’ ‘Costa Rica.’ He tried a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth time using a combination of the terms. Still n
othing promising returned.

  Tolen sat back and shrugged. “Nothing from word searches. I’ll go to satellite imagery and use Palmar Sur as a starting point and move north up the coastline of Costa Rica to search for something which fits the description.”

  “CIA technology?” Diaz asked.

  “Google Earth.”

  Tolen accessed the Internet using a Comsat connection. He launched Google Earth and zoomed in on Palmar Sur. Then he shifted on a horizontal plane to the east where Costa Rica met the Caribbean Sea. He would begin his search there. His hope was that this three-sided rock doorway was the entrance to a cave and was notable enough to have been photographed. He looked across the aisle at the weary faces. “Why don’t you two get some sleep? I’ll wake you if I find anything.”

  Each nodded, grabbed a pillow, and closed their eyes. Tolen flipped an overhead switch, and the cabin went dark. Within minutes, Diaz was snoring. Jade continued to shift in her seat with her eyes closed as if unable to get comfortable. Tolen suspected the excitement of the archaeological hunt was making it difficult for her to relax.

  Tolen spent the next 25 minutes examining amateur pictures that people had posted online of scenes along the eastern seaboard of Costa Rica. He continued his search up the shoreline until he came to Nicaragua. His vision began to blur as he reached Honduras, and he took a moment to look away from the laptop to give his eyes a rest.

  He looked across at Jade. Her smooth skin and delicate facial features were accentuated in the radiant moonlight streaming in through the windows. She finally appeared to be resting peacefully. Still clad in her white tank top and khaki hiking shorts, she had curled her firm legs up on the seat and was in a tuck position with her head on the pillow, propped on her knees. Even in the shadows, there was no denying her femininity. Stunning looks and a mind; a rare and tricky combination, Tolen thought.