Indisputable Proof

by Gary Williams

  To her side, Diaz was snoring like a bear.

  He was teamed with quite a pair: a beautiful English archaeologist and a revenge-minded Spanish police inspector. He could not remember working with a more odd combination of partners.

  Just then, the image of his father lying dormant in the hospital bed in Jacksonville popped into his head. It came suddenly and without warning, as if someone had used a remote to change the channel of his thoughts. With absolute clarity, he could see the man’s dark, withered face, and his sunken eye sockets draped with rubbery eyelids. His emaciated arms stretched down at his side. He envisioned the white sheet permanently pulled to the top of his chest, rising and falling with his slow, shallow breathing as the machine hissed and pumped on the wall behind.

  Tolen shook the thought away and looked at his watch: 5:56 a.m. local time, 11:56 a.m. in Spain; 69 hours before the Sudarium was to go on display in Oviedo. He rubbed his eyes, fending off fatigue; it was time to get back to work.

  Tolen had exhausted the eastern seaboard of Central America, at least the range he considered to be within reason, and now moved to the western shoreline. He was feeling far less optimistic about finding a “three-sided rock doorway at the sea” on the Pacific side, since he assumed the cross-oceanic journey Joseph of Arimathea made to reach the area would have been via the Caribbean Sea. Nevertheless, Tolen resumed his search, diligently examining every posted picture along the western coast, north of Palmar Sur.

  He followed the coastline almost to Nicaragua to a peninsula jutting out at the northwest end of Costa Rica when he pulled up a picture titled, “Formacion Descartes Santa Elena.” He studied the image for only a few seconds.

  Minutes later, both Jade and Diaz were wiping sleep from their eyes as Tolen explained what he found. “ ‘Formacion Descartes Santa Elena’ is a natural recess in the coastal land wall. It’s framed in a triangular outcropping of rock with the apex reaching about 20 feet high and leaning slightly to the right.” He turned the laptop around to show them the image on the screen: a “three-sided rock doorway at the sea.”

  A sleepy smile blossomed on Jade’s lips. Diaz seemed unaffected.

  “How do we get to it?” Jade asked.

  “The entire coastline in that area is mountainous, and where the land meets the water, there’s a sheer cliff face. It’s only accessible by water. I’ve already contacted Bar and asked her to secure us a boat from a nearby fishing village. It’ll be an eleven-mile boat ride.”

  “If this is a known land formation, why hasn’t the tomb already been found?” Diaz asked.

  “We won’t know the answer to that question until we get there. We’ll land in Costa Rica by 1 p.m. Until then, we better all get some rest.”

  In truth, Tolen realized with some consternation that Diaz’s question was valid. The tomb might have already been found in antiquity and plundered. The more troubling possibility, though, was that the tomb was never there.

  The certainty was they would know before nightfall.

  ****

  At 8:40 a.m. Eastern Time, Tolen unbuckled his seat belt and rose from his chair. Jade and Diaz were both fast asleep in the dark cabin. He looked out the nearest window. The droning engines were pushing the plane through the morning skies far above the silky surface of the Atlantic Ocean. Tolen quietly walked to the rear and grabbed two bottles and three shot glasses from the galley bar. He carried them back up the aisle to the cockpit door. He knocked lightly and entered. Reba Zee turned in her seat. She was flying by autopilot and had been reading. Upon seeing Tolen, she silently laid her book to the side.

  She had been expecting him.

  Without a word, he handed her one of the shot glasses. Then he popped the cork on the non-alcoholic champagne and filled her tiny glass. He filled the other two shot glasses from the contents of the second bottle: a 25-year-old Chivas Regal Scotch. He held onto one glass and placed the other one on a side stand.

  “Who’s that one for?” Reba Zee asked.

  “Frank.”

  Reba Zee gave an appreciative nod.

  By odd coincidence, this was their fourth time working together on the infamous anniversary, and this would be their fourth time sharing a traditional moment of remembrance.

  “How’s my girl, Tiffany, doing?” Reba Zee asked, passing the minutes until it was time.

  Tolen grinned. “She’s coming along. I forgot to mention earlier, she said to tell you hello.”

  “I haven’t seen the child in over a month. I hope to get to DC soon and stop in for a visit.”

  Tiffany Bar had formed an unusual relationship with the elder pilot, bordering on a mother/daughter kinship. Bar’s mother and father had divorced when she was eight years old. Her mother had turned to alcohol, and their relationship had been strained ever since. Reba Zee had lost her husband, Frank, to a terrorist attack when his plane exploded just after takeoff from Belfast two years ago. Yet Reba Zee swore that she spoke to Frank every day. After Tolen introduced the two last year, Reba Zee had taken Bar under her wing. They had even vacationed together in Mexico. The stout, gray-haired pilot with the brusque mannerisms who spoke English with a pronounced Texas drawl, and the diminutive, blonde-haired girl who spoke Spanish better than the inhabitants of Cancun made quite the pair.

  Tolen checked his watch: 8:45. He waited patiently for the next minute to tick off. Once 8:46 arrived, he hoisted his shot glass into the air, as did Reba Zee.

  “To those who have fallen…,” Reba Zee said, a tear threatening to fall from her eye.

  “We will never forget,” Tolen finished solemnly.

  They both gulped down their respective shots, and on the exact minute of the anniversary when the first airliner was flown into the North Tower of the World Trade Center, Samuel Tolen and Reba Zee commemorated all the people in the world whose lives had been lost as a result of terrorist activity, including Frank.

  For a long moment, Reba Zee stared at the third, full shot glass sitting stoically to the side. “Okay, back to business,” she finally said, forcing a grin.

  Tolen rose and was about to return to the cabin when he paused. “Would you like to take a break? I can take the wheel for a few hours.”

  “Are you kidding?” Reba Zee said with a smirk. “No one who’s sipped alcohol is touchin’ my baby.”

  CHAPTER 14

  September 11. Tuesday – 2:04 p.m. Northwest coast of Costa Rica

  Tolen had to keep the speed down as the vessel pushed west through the waves, rising and falling with each comber. The salt in the breeze was strong, and, in a way, invigorating. The sky was clear and bright. To starboard, the shoreline of Costa Rica fell away and blended seamlessly into the Nicaraguan coast in the distance. Ahead, the dark blue horizon stretched out to infinity. Yet it was the port side Jade was watching with building anticipation, as they paralleled the barrier of gray, mountainous walls which abutted the sea and reached to lofty cliffs overhead.

  If she had not been so anxious about their quest, Jade might have felt more sympathy toward the inspector. It had taken Pascal Diaz all of five minutes riding aboard the 25-foot boat to turn green from seasickness as they pitched and swayed in the choppy waters of the Pacific Ocean. The Spaniard had quickly disappeared below deck where he now lay on a mattress in a small cabin, hugging a pillow. Diaz’s attitude was vexing at times, but no one deserved to suffer as he was at that very moment.

  Jade held onto the rail beside Tolen on the upper wheelhouse deck as he guided the boat. He occasionally lifted his sunglasses to glance at a handheld GPS display on his iPhone to mark their position. His mastery of the vessel was apparent. He was very much at ease as a captain.

  This truly was a man of many talents.

  As they rode in silence, the boat tossed to and fro. She found herself involuntarily stealing glances at Tolen’s fo
rm. He stood erect, dressed in long dark pants, wearing a dark sports jacket over a white tee shirt. When the jacket opened with each brush of wind, it revealed a muscular chest, a well-defined mid-section, and a holstered pistol. With smooth cheekbones set against a firm jaw, he exuded confidence, without appearing arrogant. Samuel Tolen had an undeniably regal appeal.

  Although in desperate need of a shower, Jade had at least managed to secure five hours of sleep, which was miraculous, considering the adrenaline rush that had swarmed her when Tolen had shown them the picture of the land formation. It matched the clue so precisely she was certain they would find Joseph of Arimathea’s tomb inside the cave, and it might be the first step to finding archaeological evidence which would confirm Christ’s existence. Tolen and Diaz, on the other hand, had remained reserved. As monumental as the discovery would be, their priority was focused on capturing Boyd Ramsey and recovering the Sudarium. They viewed their efforts as a trap; a means to get to the ‘True Sons of Light.’ Yet, even knowing the possible danger, she could not suppress the exhilaration she was feeling, and despite the warm sunlight drenching her skin, she tingled with excitement. It had been a long search for the stone sphere referenced in the decoded Copper Scroll text. Her only regret was Phillip could not be here to experience the moment with her.

  The water continued to churn, frothy and alive, dipping the bow of the slow-moving vessel into a trough just before the next wave lifted it up again. It had been like this since leaving the dock where they had rented the boat, and there was no indication it would calm any time soon. Jade was certain Diaz would not come topside until he was forced to debark. Even she began to wish for calmer water as the boat gyrated in the turbulent seas.

  Through sunglasses, Tolen intently assessed the agitated surface, slowing as they crested each wave, then gunning the motors as they climbed from each gully. The stiff wind kept the temperature moderate.

  Jade spoke above the drumming of the twin Mercury motors. “How long have you been with the CIA?”

  He remained focused ahead. “I joined the agency immediately after college, much to my father’s disapproval.”

  “Not a fan of bureaucracy?”

  “He was a pacifist. He never saw the need for such a governmental agency.”

  His responses seemed measured. Jade noticed that he referred to his father in the past tense, and was void of any emotion as he spoke, although it was hard to tell behind shielded eyes. Her intuition told her he was covering pain.

  “You said that all hell will break loose if the Sudarium is not returned by 9:00 a.m. Friday. What did you mean?”

  “There will be considerable, and deadly, backlash toward U.S. citizens if it’s discovered missing. The Spanish government, at the urging of the U.S., covered up the theft with the hope of finding it before then.”

  “The U.S. is trying to cover their arse because this Ramsey fellow is ex-CIA?”

  “Correct, although it’s not in his character to lead a radical sect; especially one intent on killing archaeologists and stealing relics that are thought to be tied to Jesus of Nazareth. Ramsey is agnostic, but he saw religion as a personal choice no one else had the right to criticize.”

  The conversation lagged for a few seconds. “What about you?” Jade said, trying to brush her black bangs out of her eyes to no avail, as the wind whipped her hair constantly.

  Tolen turned toward her and removed his sunglasses revealing his enchanting blue eyes. “Come again?”

  “What about you? What’s your take on religion?”

  “Like Ramsey, I believe it’s an inherently personal decision. Belief is a choice, not an obligation, as any organized religion would have you think.”

  “Do you believe Jesus was crucified on the cross and died for our sins?”

  Tolen paused before responding. “It was the French philosopher, Voltaire, who said, ‘If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him.’”

  Jade looked at him, unsure of how to respond.

  He took the invitation to continue. “I believe there is a clear delineation between fact and belief. A belief shouldn’t directly conflict with a fact; otherwise, you’re wearing blinders, ignoring all reality.”

  “Then how do you distinguish between the two?”

  Tolen turned back toward the bow as he steered. “What I know for a fact is that the Bible claims to be a record of truth, and in support of its claims, long forgotten places and cities mentioned within its text have been discovered. In several cases, the existence of historical figures has been confirmed, such as King Herod, whose tomb was discovered in 2007. The reality, though, is there is no documented historical support for the existence of Jesus.”

  Jade felt mild frustration in his circular logic. “You don’t believe Jesus ever walked the Earth? You realize that eleven of the twelve Apostles preached His word and died as martyrs? Doesn’t this offer more than just a compelling argument for His existence? Would they really subject themselves to heinous deaths if Jesus hadn’t existed, and they didn’t believe in His teachings?”

  “Is there any historical proof, beyond what’s in the Bible, that any of the twelve Apostles existed?”

  Jade was momentarily speechless, but then managed a surprised, “Well, no; no hard archaeological evidence.”

  “Don’t misinterpret what I’m saying. I’m not making a judgment. You found a code in the Copper Scroll which supports the existence and travels of Joseph of Arimathea and references objects belonging to Jesus. All of it is intriguing, but we must keep an open mind. It may have simply been instigated by someone perpetuating a story.”

  “A deception? From the first century?”

  Tolen did not respond. Instead, he returned the sunglasses to his eyes and concentrated on the tumultuous waves meeting them head on. A fishing boat was anchored several hundred yards on the right. Seagulls looped above it, squawking as they looked down on the half-dozen occupants who were dragging in a seine net. It appeared to be a lucrative catch as they worked fast to pull the fish into the boat.

  She felt a swell of rejection. “So you’re in Diaz’s corner? You think the deciphered text—the clue from the stone sphere—it’s all an elaborate hoax?”

  Tolen’s words remained calm. “Fact versus belief. We’ll know soon enough.”

  Jade stared at Tolen, unsure what to say. She wanted to argue the point. She refused to accept that the search she and Phillip had undertaken was based on a 2,000-year-old ploy. The thought was extremely unsettling.

  Tolen stood at the helm, busy guiding the boat. He had stated his position then abandoned the discussion and left her struggling for answers. His points were salient, yet bloody well disturbing, as was his laconic speech and stoic veneer, she thought.

  “Do you mind telling me what religion you are?” Her words had more of an edge than she planned.

  “I was raised Methodist.” There was a slight pause as he again turned to look at Jade, removing his sunglasses. “And you? Where do you attend now?”

  The comeback question caught her off guard. “I…um…I was raised a member of the Anglican Church, like most British citizens, although I have to admit, I haven’t attended church in a few years…17 to be precise.

  “I’m curious,” she continued, hoping to avoid further confrontation. “You seem to have significant knowledge of global history. Is that some sort of CIA prerequisite?”

  For the first time that afternoon, Tolen smiled. “No, I have a master’s degree in world history to go along with a PhD in criminology.”

  “You have a doctorate and don’t use the title in your name?”

  “I always found it a bit pretentious to ask people to call me Dr. Tolen. Dr. Tolen is my father.”

  “A family lineage of PhDs,” Jade said. “You’re quite an educated man to be a secret agent.”

&nb
sp; “Secret agent. Now that’s an antiquated term. The official title is ‘clandestine service operations officer.’ ”

  “You just made that up,” she said in a whimsical tone.

  “Not at all, although it no longer fits in my case, especially given my current assignment supporting the Smithsonian Institution. These days, I’m more of an international liaison.”

  There was a slight twinkle in his eye. She suspected his work with the Smithsonian better suited his intellectual side. “How did you come by such a plum assignment? Surely you don’t get to choose the position that makes you the happiest? You are working for the government. They have rules against happy employees.” Playfulness had seeped into her voice, and she felt at ease again. It was in complete contrast to how she had felt only minutes before when they were discussing religion and faith, and it was a welcome change.

  Tolen smiled and looked down. “Some people are just lucky, I guess.”

  She wanted to press him again about how he had acquired his early-Christian-era knowledge, but she was reticent about falling back into another uncomfortable discussion. “Did you specialize in any certain time period or culture? Every world historian I’ve ever met had a favorite topic.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve always been very fascinated with Egyptian history—the pyramids, the sphinx, the historical cities, monuments, funerary temples, mummification techniques, and so on. Ancient Egyptians left an indelible mark on history unlike any other past civilization. I believe we have only scratched the surface of the discoveries yet to be made there.”

  “Phillip also had a fondness for Egypt,” Jade replied. Her thoughts drifted back to the last time she saw him alive. He was waving goodbye from the airport terminal as she boarded the flight to the States. She could see him staring at her through the window. He had his usual intellectual grin which she found so remarkably attractive.