“Amazing,” Devorah murmured.
“Predicted.” Michael winked at her when she glanced at him. “Ezekiel. Israel will collect enough fuel from Gog’s army to last seven years. For seven months those government cleanup teams will gather the dead and bury them in a place to be called the Valley of Hamon Gog. And all the nations will see the punishment of God, and Israel will know that God has delivered her from the hand of Gog and the nations who marched with him.”
From the corner of his eye, Michael saw Rav Cohen’s head turn in surprise. “You know the prophet Ezekiel?” the rabbi asked, one bushy brow lifting.
“I’ve been reading a lot of Ezekiel lately,” Michael answered, shifting to look at the older man. “And I’ve found his prophecies very interesting.”
A half smile crossed the rabbi’s face, then he returned his gaze to the front of the car and remained silent until they reached the tall chain-link fence around what appeared to be an abandoned military installation. Despite the heavy rolls of concertina wire along the top of the tall fence, there were no cars in the parking lot, and only a single guard at the security checkpoint.
Devorah drove up to the gate, showed her ID, and waited while the guard walked around the car. When he saw Rabbi Cohen in the backseat, however, he halted his inspection and waved Devorah through.
“I never knew you had such pull with the military, Abba,” Devorah said, glancing up in the rearview mirror.
“There are many things you have not known, my Devorah.”
Devorah parked in the empty lot near a row of hangars, then she and Michael got out of the car and waited for Rabbi Cohen to lead the way. The rabbi set off at a quick pace, the wind blowing his earlocks and the edges of his fringes as he followed a sidewalk.
He called over his shoulder as he walked. “HaShem, blessed be his name, has saved our people.”
“I know, Abba.” Devorah gave Michael a quick smile, then lengthened her stride until she walked by her father’s side. “Anyone with eyes to see has realized the truth.”
Her father looked up as if surprised, then drew his lips in thoughtfully. “So my wandering daughter has returned to the fold. Good. Now I will show you what will preserve Israel for all time.”
Michael thrust his hands in his pockets and followed, more than a little curious about the rabbi’s secretive manner. What had the Israelis hidden out here in this forsaken place, and why did Rabbi Cohen have access to it? Michael knew the man was revered as one of the descendants of Aaron, but he was no military expert, so why had they hidden him on this base during the invasion? And if they had some sort of weapon hidden out here, why hadn’t they thought to use it during Gogol’s attack?
The rabbi paused before a mammoth airplane hanger, then punched a keycode in the electronic lock on the door. The lock clicked open, and Michael stepped forward to open the door for the rabbi and his daughter. Devorah flashed him a smile of thanks, then lifted a brow as if to say she had no idea what her father was up to, either.
They followed the rabbi into a hangar the size of two football fields, their footsteps echoing weirdly in the vast empty space. The concrete floor was dark with oil stains and the footprints of those who had built this place, and the rabbi walked confidently through the gloom lit only by clerestory windows high in the curved roof. Halfway into the hanger, a deep access bay broke the concrete expanse. A staircase led into the empty well, and the rabbi turned to follow it without hesitation.
Devorah followed her father, but paused to give Michael a questioning look before taking the first step. He shrugged and followed. The rabbi moved slowly, one hand holding tight to the iron railing set into the wall on the railing, the other hand on his cane. Slowly he tapped his way down at least three dozen steps. At the base of the staircase, the rabbi opened a steel door that led to a narrow space of six inches, beyond which stood a pair of elevator doors. Michael looked and saw that there was no call button— only a small touchpad the size of a saltine cracker.
“This elevator,” the rabbi explained as he pressed the flat area of his thumb to the panel, “can only be operated by one of the Kohein. We are allowed to bring visitors, of course—if we feel HaShem, blessed be his name, approves.” He looked at Michael, and for the first time Michael saw the light of approval in the older man’s eyes. “I am certain the Master of the universe understands what I am about to show you. It is important for you to see this.”
Michael felt the vibration of machinery beneath his feet and heard the sound of a rising elevator. A moment later the steel doors parted. The rabbi stepped into the compartment, then held the door open while Devorah and Michael entered. Once inside, the rabbi touched another touchpad, and the elevator began to descend.
Rabbi Cohen smiled as he folded his arms. “The computer maintains a database of over 300,000 sons of Aaron,” he explained. “There are even a few Kohein sprinkled throughout your country, Captain Reed. Any one of them could come and witness what I am about to show you—if they wanted to.”
A sad note filled his voice, a surge of longing and regret. Michael said nothing, but waited until the elevator stopped and the doors opened into a brightly lit hallway. Ten feet away from the elevator, a pair of uniformed IDF soldiers stood at attention outside a pair of gleaming wooden doors.
The rabbi did not speak to the guards, but moved down the polished hallway with the confident air of a five-star general inspecting his troops. He paused outside the double doors, pressed his thumb to yet another sensor panel and spoke a few Hebrew words into an intercom mounted on the wall.
“Another protective device.” He smiled at his daughter as the lock clicked. “In case someone decides to cut off my thumb and use it for a key. The biometrics of my thumb and voiceprint must match an established pattern in the computer before we can pass through this door.”
“I’m surprised it doesn’t read your retina,” Michael remarked as they stepped into yet another room.
The rabbi’s face brightened at the suggestion. “A very good idea, Captain. We will take it under advisement.”
This chamber was completely unlike any room Michael had ever entered. The walls, floor, even the ceiling were made of white marble veined with threads of gold. The room seemed to shimmer with purity and power, and the rabbi stepped out of his shoes before moving carefully across the sparkling floor.
Michael looked at Devorah and lifted a brow. Shrugging, she slipped out of her leather shoes and left them on the mat by the door. Michael did the same, then followed the rabbi and his daughter.
The rabbi moved forward into the pure space, then disappeared behind a corner of white marble. As Michael followed, he found himself standing before a smooth and seamless wall of plate glass, as black as night.
The rabbi bent forward and bowed rapidly toward the space, murmuring in a stream of Hebrew. Devorah stopped as if hesitant to draw closer and Michael stood beside her, equally mystified. The air in this place seemed cool and fragrant, scented with sweet incense, though Michael could see no sign of candles or flames or lamps.
And then, before Michael’s startled eyes, a glow rose from the darkness on the other side of the glass wall. It bloomed slowly at first, like a rare and radiant flower, then expanded and rose like a golden cloud hovering in the center of what appeared to be another chamber. In the fiery radiance Michael could see the shining forms of two angelic beings who faced each other with their wings outstretched, their wingtips separated only by a fraction of an inch.
The glowing sphere of light grew and rotated, throwing sparks of brilliant radiance throughout the chamber. As the light expanded, further illuminating the chamber, Michael saw that the angels sat upon a chest with two golden poles attached to its sides.
He blinked in astonished silence when he recognized the rabbi’s secret.
Devorah recovered first and spoke in a voice soft with disbelief. “The Ark of the Covenant.”
“The Shekinah,” her father echoed. “The glory of God.”
Ri
pples of shock were spreading from an epicenter in Michael’s stomach, making the crown of his head tingle and his toes go numb. The ark of the Exodus? He couldn’t believe it still existed. Most people didn’t believe it had ever existed. Seeing it here, surrounded by the holy glory of God, was like discovering Noah’s ark or the cross of Jesus Christ. It was proof that the Bible was truth, not myth, that God was real and not a by-product of mankind’s yearning for significance.
Devorah sank to her knees, then bent low and pressed her hands to the floor, echoing her father’s prayers. Michael knelt, too, his faith stirred and his hope restored. God did have a plan, and he was obviously at work in the lives of his people.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
1205 hours
Tuesday, December 26
STANDING JUST OUTSIDE THE CUSTOMS AREA AT BEN GURION INTERNATIONAL Airport, Michael clutched his suitcase and struggled to wrap his thoughts around the necessity of saying his good-byes. In the wake of the war’s nuclear devastation, President Samuel Stedman had requested that he return home immediately.
Devorah, Asher, and Rabbi Cohen stood before Michael now, their faces mirroring his own discomfort. Asher stepped forward first. “It’s been a real pleasure to know you, Captain Reed. I will never forget that I owe you my life.”
“Thank Devorah. She’s the one who risked everything to save you.”
Asher nodded, then stepped back and gave Michael a formal salute. Michael returned it, then lowered his suitcase as Rabbi Cohen came forward.
“Blessings be upon you, Michael Reed.” The rabbi held Michael’s hand for a long moment as his soulful eyes searched Michael’s face. “I have spent many sleepless nights since your arrival.”
Michael lowered his gaze, his feelings too raw to discuss even with Devorah’s father. His heart was squeezed so tight he could barely draw breath to speak, but he forced the words out. “You have nothing to fear from me, sir. I love your daughter. I would suffer myself before I would allow anyone to hurt her.”
A trace of unguarded affection shone in the rabbi’s eyes as he looked at Michael. “You are a good man, Captain Reed, but you do not understand our ways. The Torah laws forbidding intermarriage are God’s laws, and therefore they are just and good.”
Michael looked away, unwilling to voice the words that rose to his tongue. This man had probably never experienced anything like the feelings that bound Michael and Devorah; he certainly had grown up in a different world.
“You think I am an old man, and you are right.” The rabbi’s words, murmured and uninflected, ran together in a soothing tune pitched to reach Michael’s ear alone. “But I know love is more than the feeling of happiness that exists when you are with another person. It is an experience beyond emotion, a state of mind where you no longer distinguish between your own soul and that of the one you love.”
Michael drew a deep breath and met the rabbi’s brilliant gaze. The man was right, of course—and Michael was ready to love Devorah with every ounce of his energy, every reserve of his strength. But loving her would mean tearing her from the family she adored, from the heritage she had never been able to shed. Loving her would mean hurting her . . . and he could never willingly bring her pain.
“Thank you, sir.” He shook the rabbi’s hand in a warm grip. “I will never forget you.”
“I hope you do not.” A smile gathered up the wrinkles by the man’s aged mouth. “The days are coming when Israel will be seen as the center of the world and Jerusalem as the center of Israel. HaShem, blessed be he, has shown me that the hour is fast approaching. May his will be done.”
The rabbi moved away, nodding slightly at his daughter as Devorah moved toward Michael. For a moment they stood without speaking, the silence broken only by the monotonous inquiries of the nearby customs inspectors who asked “Is this your first or a returning trip to Israel?” about every thirty seconds.
“Well,” she said, her voice artificially bright, “it will be quiet around here when you’re gone. They’ll have me back in the classroom, teaching reporters how to dodge bullets. But the PLO has been so cowed that we may not be faced with a challenging terrorist situation for years.”
“You’ll be wonderful, no matter where they assign you.” Michael picked up his suitcase and shifted it from one hand to the other, deliberately giving himself something to do so he wouldn’t be tempted to draw her into his arms.
She gave him a secret, understanding smile, then looked down at the floor.
“Devorah,” Michael began. “I just want you to know—”
She cut him off with a warning glance. “Don’t say anything, Michael. It’s fine. I’ll always be grateful I got to know you. And I’ll be indebted to you for what you’ve done for my family and for Israel.”
She looked down at the floor again, then absently scuffed the bottom of her shoe on the worn carpet. “So,” her voice brightened again, “you’ll be in touch with Daniel in the coming days, I’m sure.”
“Of course.” Michael smiled, glad that she had found a way out of the awkward conversation. “He’s still tracking Romulus and still convinced that Romulus is the false messiah of the ancient literature.”
Her eyes sparked with mischief. “Of course you believe he is the antichrist.”
“I do.”
“And you believe Jesus is coming back to earth, to snatch all the true believers away.”
“That’s the plan.” He grinned and shifted his suitcase again. “So tell me, Devorah—what will you say to the Messiah when he arrives in Jerusalem?”
She paused and tilted her head, then a strange, faintly eager look flashed in her eyes. “I’ll ask him,” she said, her fascinating smile crinkling the corners of her eyes, “whether it’s his first or a returning trip to Israel.”
“You do that,” Michael answered, grinning. “I’ll be standing nearby, waiting to hear his answer.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
GRANT R. JEFFREY is the author of the #1 bestseller The Millennium Meltdown, as well as The Signature of God, The Mysterious Bible Codes, Armageddon, Flee the Darkness (with Angela Hunt), and numerous other books. He has done extensive research in prophecy, history, and archaeology, and with his wife, Kaye, founded a ministry that proclaims a warning of judgment to the world and a message of hope to the church.
Award-winning writer and RITA Award finalist ANGELA ELWELL HUNT is author of the popular series The Keepers of the Ring, Legacies of the Ancient River, The Heirs of Cahira O’Connor, and the co-author of Flee the Darkness. Angela is also the author of the best-selling The Tale of Three Trees and The Rise of Babylon (with Charles Dyer).
THE Y2K THEORY BECOMES REALITY IN THIS THRILLING WORK OF FICTION
In a race against time, Daniel Prentice and his colleagues rush to meet a gargantuan challenge: developing the software that will save the world from chaos when the year 2000 arrives. But as the deadline looms even closer, another source of chaos—and evil—arises from ancient roots, threatening global enslavement and terror—and doom—if Daniel’s plan succeeds.
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