The Temple Mount Code

by Charles Brokaw

  That sight had stayed in Lourds’s mind. The arm bones had been buried according to Jewish custom, but pictures of the find remained on display.

  A short distance farther on, Lourds found the mikveh, the ritual bath used by men and women. Regulations varied widely among the different interpretations of the religion, but most agreed that the ritual baths had to be fed by natural springs and be deep enough to cover the person bathing.

  The mikveh was constructed of stone and had two doorways at the top of the steps: one for entering and one for leaving. Lourds went down when no one else was there. He took the Black Scorpion blacklight he’d purchased from the electronics store from his pocket.

  He stopped at the bottom of the mikveh’s stone steps, then turned to his right and tracked the blacklight beam across the stones, counting as he went.

  Thomas, if I ever have anything that is important and must be found, I will leave it where you can find it. Only you and I will know of this place. If, for whatever reason, I cannot finish my study of whatever this thing might be, I want you to promise me that you will look for it.

  They’d been drunk at the time. It had been after Lev had gotten out of the hospital and been fitted with his prosthetic leg, after which walking with the prosthesis had proven both sad and hilarious.

  As a boy, Lourds had fallen in love with the old Doc Savage pulps, and Lev had shared a love of them. In the stories, Doc Savage and his aides were forever leaving messages for each other written in ultraviolet chalk.

  Over the years, Lev had occasionally left messages for Lourds in different places. Never the mikveh. That place was sacred, meant for only the holiest of things.

  Lourds knew that if Lev had truly been working on something important, earthshakingly important, he would have left a clue there. He hoped there was nothing there.

  Then the blacklight touched the message and brought it to vibrant life.

  THOMAS

  CENTRAL BUS STATION

  B-34

  GO WITH GOD, MY FRIEND

  26

  Schloss Volker

  Vienna, Austria

  August 5, 2011

  Von Volker stared at Colonel Davari’s face on the computer monitor. The telephone connection linking them was heavily encrypted, but they still remained careful.

  ‘Thomas Lourds has arrived in Jerusalem.’ The colonel’s tone was accusatory, as if Von Volker himself were to blame for the professor’s appearance in the city.

  ‘I know. I have men watching him even as we speak.’

  ‘Then why haven’t they taken him into their custody?’

  ‘Because we have to be careful. The police are watching Lourds, and somewhere out there you can bet the Mossad are also watching. I shouldn’t have to remind you that if the Mossad finds out about me, they will also find out about you. Austria’s political sympathies lie with the Ayatollah, at least for the moment.’

  ‘What is he doing over there?’

  That told Von Volker a lot, and he had to keep himself from smiling. Evidently Davari’s intelligence sources didn’t run that deeply into Jerusalem.

  Or maybe he had pulled his people back to leave Von Volker hanging as a Judas goat. That thought didn’t settle quite so easily, and took away some of the superiority the Austrian felt.

  ‘For the moment, Lourds seems to be sniffing around, looking for whatever crumbs might be left of his old friend.’

  ‘I trust nothing was left that we need to worry about.’

  ‘I had Strauss’s computer and the artifacts by his desk smuggled out of the country. They’ve been arriving over the last couple of days. I’ve got people going through them this very moment. If there is anything to be found, any clue of the Book or the Scroll, they will find it.’

  ‘And you will call me.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Without another word, Davari broke the connection.

  Despite his casual conversation with the colonel, Von Volker was tense. If Davari was getting hard to get along with, Von Volker knew the Ayatollah would be even more so. If something didn’t happen soon, blood would spill, and some of it might be his.

  He rose from the plush leather chair and walked out of the office. In the hallway, he turned toward the former two back bedrooms, now one very large bedroom. When Lev Strauss’s things had started arriving, Von Volker had hired a crew to remove the wall to allow more room for his specialists. After this project was completed, he would have the wall rebuilt.

  He walked into the room.

  Instantly, one of the older men got to his feet and approached.

  ‘Herr Von Volker, it’s a pleasure to see you.’ The older man knew better than to offer his hand, and bowed his head instead.

  ‘Have you any news to report, Professor Gustav?’

  ‘We are proceeding according to schedule.’ Gustav waved to the artifacts that lined the tables. ‘There were many things in this collection, and the cataloguing takes time. If I may suggest, Herr Von Volker, your wife is a trained archaeologist, and many of these things are surely within her field of study.’

  Von Volker glared at the man. ‘Are you telling me that your skills are not up to this task, Professor Gustav?’

  The old man paled. ‘No. Certainly not. I was just thinking that another pair of hands would – ’

  ‘Then you presume to tell me my business.’

  ‘No, Herr Von Volker. Certainly not. I will do as you wish to the best of my ability.’

  ‘Good. Anything less will get you released.’ And your body dumped at the bottom of a lake. Von Volker refrained from saying the last, so that it would be a surprise. Gustav and his group of experts were headed for the bottom of a lake anyway when the time came.

  ‘It will not be a problem.’

  ‘There are more deliveries forthcoming. They should arrive tomorrow or by Monday.’

  ‘Of course. We will make room.’

  Von Volker walked back out of the room and spotted Alice in the hallway in her lounging wear and a robe, a wine glass in her hand. He wondered if she had heard any of the conversation.

  ‘How is your secret project going?’

  ‘Fine.’ Von Volker put on a small smile.

  ‘You still haven’t told me what it’s about. Or why strangers stay so long at our house, or why the wall was torn out?’

  ‘The wall was torn out to make room for the strangers. That should be obvious.’

  She frowned at him and sipped her drink.

  ‘As for the rest of it, that shall remain my secret for a time longer.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Alice lifted one slim shoulder and dropped it. She looked at him. ‘Would you like a drink?’

  ‘No. Thank you.’

  ‘Are you coming to bed?’

  Von Volker was almost tempted. It wasn’t often his wife asked him to bed, but she did so every now and again when she wanted something. He supposed she might have grown tired of her car. ‘I’m afraid I can’t. Business, you see. There is the rally tomorrow night. I must make sure things are ready. People are depending on me.’

  She nodded and even managed to look a little disappointed. She turned and walked away. ‘Well, if you should change your mind …’

  Watching her hips twitch so provocatively, Von Volker almost changed his mind. But he knew he had things to do. If the Ayatollah got his precious Book, and it even came close to doing what the man thought it would do, Von Volker knew the Austrian and German people had to be ready.

  If the Ayatollah unleashed a global jihad, a brand-new powder keg lit in the Middle East would go a long way to paving the road for a larger, more powerful Germany. And Austria would be the crown jewel of that new unification.

  And Von Volker was going to make sure that when the time came, he would be the man wearing that crown.

  August 6

  Alice lay in bed for more than two hours. First she heard her husband leave, watching out the window as his car drove into the night. Then she heard the men in the renovated bedroom
s pack up their gear and leave.

  The clock beside the bed showed 12:34 a.m. And they would be back no later than seven in the morning. Even though they were staying in one of the guesthouses and had no long drive ahead of them, she felt bad for them. Her husband worked them unmercifully.

  She lay atop the bed for a while longer, thinking about the conversation she’d overheard her husband having with someone on his computer. Klaus had mentioned Thomas Lourds’s name, something he’d never done in all their years of marriage.

  For a moment, she thought back to the last time she’d had sex with her husband. She didn’t call it making love because it wasn’t that. And it really wasn’t having sex either, though sometimes his attentions were welcome because she was a young, healthy woman with her own needs.

  That night, though, she was certain he’d drugged her. The way she’d felt, so hazy and out of control, and the spectacular headache she’d had the next morning had convinced her Klaus had given her something.

  He’d done that before, though he never admitted to it. And each time, the next few days were always awful as her body recovered. When Klaus loosed his inner depravity, he was a beast.

  No matter how much she struggled, though, she couldn’t remember that night. They’d talked, she was sure of that, but she had no idea what they’d talked about or even what Klaus would be interested in talking to her about.

  She got up, pulled on her robe, and went out into the hallway. She’d worn some of her sexiest lingerie, hoping to seduce Klaus. She did that to him sometimes, and when he was passed out in postcoital bliss, she went through his pockets, his phone, and his PDA.

  There was always precious little to find. Klaus was very careful. Sometimes she wondered if he knew what she did and wondered if he thought the layers of duplicity was some grand game. Things like that delighted him.

  Out in the hallway, she grew more afraid. This could be some kind of game, too. Leaving the house unattended with the secret project here was enticing.

  Of course, there was the possibility that he didn’t think she could figure it out. Or that it wouldn’t matter if she did.

  He mentioned Thomas by name. There must be a reason. Alice screwed up her courage and walked to the doors at the other end of the hallway. A fresh security lock had been installed on the door. This one required a thumbprint.

  She smiled at that. Klaus did love gadgets, but he wasn’t nearly as clever as he thought he was. A thumbprint-recognition system in a house where he lived was foolish.

  It only took her a moment to get a print off his electric razor with a piece of clear tape. Then she pressed the borrowed thumbprint to the door, watched the green bar cycle from top to bottom while it read it, and heard the locking mechanism pop open.

  Her breath caught in her throat. If this was a trick planned by Klaus, this would be the point at which he would step forward and catch her in the act.

  She remained alone in the hallway.

  Trembling, she pulled open the door and stepped inside.

  As she gazed in wide-eyed wonder at the artifacts revealed on the tables in the moonlight streaming through the windows, she wondered what it could all mean. How was Thomas mixed up in anything her husband might be doing? The only history Klaus was interested in was the German Confederation and how he might be able to bring Austria and Germany together as a large, imposing nation the West would have to acknowledge.

  The news had been full of her old lover lately. Although she’d had to keep her interest hidden from Klaus, Alice had followed all the breaking reports about the temple Thomas had located in the Himalayas. She’d also heard that he had left the dig site a few days ago.

  That hadn’t sounded like the Thomas Lourds Alice knew. Wild horses and rampaging lions wouldn’t have gotten him away from something like that.

  But something had.

  Alice studied the artifacts, realizing they were an impressive collection of Christian, Judaic, and Islamic pieces. There were centuries-old crosses, Stars of David, a sword-wielding figure that could only be a representation of Iblis, the Islamic devil, who’d been either a jinn and a devoted servant of God or a disobedient angel. That was just one of the many ways Muslim faith diverged. Iblis had been made of fire while Adam had been made of clay, and Iblis had refused to accept that Adam was better. God had thrown Iblis into hell and renamed him Shaitan. Since those days, Shaitan had devoted himself to turning men and women against God.

  What did any of this have to do with Thomas Lourds?

  As she touched the figure of Iblis, she thought of where she’d last seen a figurine like this. Lev Strauss had had one at his flat in Jerusalem. Only it had been his grandmother’s flat at the time. The Iblis had been one of his first pieces.

  Curious, Alice lifted the figurine and gazed at the bottom. There, on a piece of masking tape worn and faded with time, was the legend IBLIS, and it looked like Lev’s strong, sure hand. She replaced the figurine and went to one of the computers on a desk. She didn’t dare use her personal notebook computer because Klaus had loaded it with spy programs.

  The computers in here had been left up and running. She went to the Internet and Googled Lev Strauss’s name. She saw his handsome face, a touch of gray in his hair and beard now, and read the headlines that declared he’d been killed in a tragic terrorist attack on July 28.

  Tears filled her eyes as she remembered the beautiful young man he’d been. For a time, after she and Thomas had parted ways, Lev had kept her company. She’d known he cared for her, but she was unable to return his interest. Every time she’d thought of him, she’d thought of Thomas.

  In the end, not only had Alice lost Thomas to his treasure hunt for the Library of Alexandria, but she had lost a good friend, too. Now she’d lost him forever. How had she missed this story?

  She knew the answer at once. Klaus kept her away from the world for the most part. She wiped the tears from her face. For just a moment, a piece of that drugged night of wanton sex surfaced in her mind.

  Is Lev in Jerusalem?

  She was certain that Klaus had asked her that.

  And now Lev was dead, with his things somehow in her husband’s control.

  Desperate, she returned to the computer. If Klaus was going after Thomas next, he needed to be warned.

  27

  Central Bus Station

  Jaffa Road

  Jerusalem, the State of Israel

  August 5, 2011

  Walking like a man who belonged there, trying to ignore the little voice in the back of his mind that insisted he was stepping into a trap, Lourds entered the modern eight-story building that had replaced the old bus station in 2001. The building had five floors of office space above the three main levels and two levels of underground parking.

  The new bus station also had a shopping concourse and a food court that had stirred up considerable strife among the Haredi community. Rabbis of the superconservative Orthodox Judaism had protested vehemently against adding more than coffee shops and magazine racks, the way things had been in the past.

  Lourds missed the old bus station as well. He preferred it to the gleaming monstrosity that sprawled out around him. Getting big and modern had taken a lot of character out of the neighborhood. People had once been able to find small places and corners to talk over coffee and the newspaper, and even felt like they had some privacy. Now the food court was in plain sight, and everything felt hurried.

  He took the bus locker key from his pocket. He’d retrieved it from inside an old prosthesis Lev kept in his closet as a hiding place. After all, who would think to look there?

  Earlier that morning, Lourds had slipped into Lev’s building through the back way, awakened Mrs. Hirsch, and listened to her complain about her bad hip the way she always had, even though it hadn’t appeared to get any worse since the last time he’d seen her. She’d opened Lev’s door with her spare key. Someone had to water the plants when Lev was gone. Mrs. Hirsch wasn’t moving, so she’d been a good temporary
flat sitter. They had consoled each other briefly over Lev’s death, then Lourds had headed to the bus station.

  At the locker area, aware that he was being watched by closed-circuit television, Lourds took note of the lockers and the way the numbers ran. The IDs held Hebrew and English markings.

  He found B-34 with ease. He put the key into the lock and turned it, almost expecting someone to jump out of the small square space and shoot him. Relief filled him when he saw only a bound notebook inside.

  Picking it up, he looked around to see if anyone was taking undue interest in him. Satisfied that he was safe for the moment, he walked out of the bus terminal. He hadn’t slept a wink all night, and now – with adrenaline fueled by the discovery of the notebook – he was more awake than ever.

  Dear Thomas,

  If you’re reading this, something unseemly must have happened to me. If I am captured, hurry and come save me because the people looking for Mohammad’s Koran (more on that in a moment) are desperate to find it and bloodthirsty as well.

  If I am dead – well, i hope it was quick. You know how I dislike pain.

  Tears welled in Lourds’s eyes as he read the last, but he chuckled as well. That was Lev, always a jokester. But the message reminded Lourds that he could be in danger as well.

  He glanced around Jaffa Road as he sat in a coffee shop down the street from the bus station. He didn’t see anyone watching him, and he felt quite certain that if anyone had been watching, they would have grabbed him when they saw he had Lev’s book.

  He resumed reading.

  I’m not going to go into the whole story at this moment, but it’s a great one, trust me on that. Rather, I’m asking you to try to find what I haven’t been able to yet. Or quite possibly to find what I found that got me killed.