The Ripper Secret

by The Ripper Secret (retail) (epub)

  ‘Then what was the purpose of placing the codex in the stone box and burying it?’

  ‘I believe that was just a kind of insurance, if you like. Obviously, the Jewish people hoped that one day they would not be a conquered nation, subject to the laws of a race of invaders. I think they probably anticipated that eventually the Mount of Olives would be developed or perhaps excavated, and they buried the box there, in a direct line of sight to the Temple Mount, so that whoever found the box and the codex would make the appropriate connection.’

  ‘So you think the menorah is still there today? Still buried somewhere under the Temple Mount?’

  Chenkovsky nodded.

  ‘If it had been found some time during the last fifteen hundred years, I’m quite certain that we would know about it. So, yes, I’m as near certain as I can be that the menorah is still lying hidden under the Temple Mount, in whatever tunnel or cavern is the closest to the original location of the Temple, and just a short distance from where we’re sitting now. So what we have to decide is who we should tell about it,’ Chenkovsky went on. ‘Obviously we’ll need to inform the Jewish authorities here, so that we can obtain permission to excavate the area to try to find it. Or help direct them to the most likely location.’

  For a few moments Pedachenko didn’t reply, as he worked out the best course of action he should take.

  Then he stood up, placed his arm around the shoulder of the elderly priest and smiled at him.

  ‘You have done very well, my friend,’ he said softly, ‘very well indeed, but I don’t think we need trouble any of the Jews here with this matter.’

  Chenkovsky stiffened as he heard what Pedachenko said, and in those few final instants of his life he realized how severely he’d underestimated both the Russian’s greed and his ruthlessness.

  With a kind of lethally casual grace, Pedachenko swept the priest’s legs from under him and slammed his body, face-first, onto the unyielding edge of the wooden table. It was a killing blow, the impact crushing the front of Chenkovsky’s skull, driving bone splinters deep into his brain. But actually, that wasn’t what killed him. The force of the impact was so severe that his neck snapped a split second later, and he was dead before he hit the stone floor of the room.

  The Russian bent down to ensure that his murderous attack had been successful, then concealed both the codex and the sheets of paper on which Chenkovsky had written out the translation. Only then, when he was completely satisfied that he had left no trace anywhere in the room of what he and the priest had been discussing, did Pedachenko wrench open the door and call out to his staff.

  ‘Come here, quickly,’ he yelled out. ‘There’s been a terrible accident.’

  April 1888

  Jerusalem

  The clang of steel striking steel was followed immediately by a sudden howl of pain, the sound loud and seemingly amplified both by the stone walls of the tunnel and the confined space in which the men were working.

  ‘What happened?’ another of the labourers asked, putting down his shovel and inching his way forward, bent almost double as he approached the rock face where his companion had been working.

  The injured man didn’t reply, just sat down with his back against the wall, his right hand cradling his left, which even in the dim light was clearly oozing blood. He just nodded towards the rock face on his right.

  The second labourer moved forward until he could see what had happened. The hammer the man had been using lay on the floor of the tunnel where he had dropped it, but there was no sign of the steel chisel. Then he looked more closely at the rock face directly in front of him and saw a dark circular shape almost at eye level. He lifted the oil lamp to examine the mark, and in the flickering light he realized that he wasn’t looking at some darker patch of rock, but at a hole. The blackness was the empty space on the opposite side of the rock.

  Obviously his companion had been injured when he struck the end of his chisel, but instead of the tool striking hard rock, the chisel had shot straight through the stone at a weak point, and the steel head of the hammer had then smashed painfully into the man’s left hand.

  The labourer positioned the oil lamp where it gave the best light, picked up the hammer and his own chisel, placed the end of the steel blade a few inches away from the hole and gave it a sharp but controlled rap. Another piece of rock fell away, the hole now a ragged oval shape. He repeated the operation half a dozen times until he had widened the opening sufficiently to allow him to stick both his head and his arm holding the lamp into the open space they had just breached.

  While he’d been increasing the size of the opening, the third and fourth members of the work party had moved forward to see what was happening.

  ‘What is it?’ one of them asked.

  For a few seconds his companion didn’t reply, then he turned round to face them with a smile on his face.

  ‘There’s another tunnel right in front of us,’ he said, ‘one of the old ones. Go and fetch the Russian,’ he ordered. ‘He will want to see this.’

  * * *

  Alexei Pedachenko had known from the start that it wouldn’t be easy.

  Two years earlier, when the old priest from the Ukraine had explained the significance of the codex to him, he’d known immediately that if there was the slightest chance of recovering the menorah, he would have to take it. He knew little about the Jewish religion or customs and cared less, and saw the relic as nothing more than a meal ticket. If he could find it, he could live the rest of his life in luxury, because he was absolutely certain that the ancient relic would be worth a literal fortune simply on account of the value of the gold from which it was made, while its value as the most crucial religious icon of the entire Jewish faith was incalculable. How he would sell the object once he’d recovered it he had no idea, but he was quite sure that he would find a way. Buyers, he was certain, would be queuing up.

  His first problem was much simpler: he had to work out a way of getting into the subterranean world that lay under the Temple Mount so that he could locate the chamber where the menorah had been secreted.

  That, he knew, would be a difficult job. The one thing he certainly couldn’t do was order a group of labourers over to the Temple Mount and tell them to start digging. All excavations in that area of Jerusalem had been banned, and the Muslim authorities had begun posting guards and sending out patrols to ensure that their rules were not broken. He couldn’t even try to get into the tunnel systems at night, because night watchmen were also stationed around the Mount.

  Even starting a tunnel some distance away wasn’t feasible because of the impossibility of obtaining permission to excavate anywhere, and the equal impossibility of trying to dig such a tunnel covertly. An operation of that sort simply couldn’t be carried out without somebody seeing what was happening and asking questions.

  But Pedachenko was both resourceful and determined, and he knew that the answer lay in his grasp, simply because of the church.

  The construction of the Russian Orthodox church involved a considerable amount of digging, and the whole operation had obviously already been approved by the authorities in Jerusalem. Fortunately for Pedachenko, the design of the church also included a crypt, which was one of the reasons why the digging of the foundations had penetrated so deep into the ground, and why the stone box had been found there.

  For about a month after the unfortunate ‘accident’ to the Ukrainian priest, Pedachenko had bided his time and made his plans. And then he’d acted.

  He recruited six local labourers, part of the gang who were working on the crypt of the church, and explained that he had a special mission he wanted them to assist him with. If they agreed, he promised them double their normal payment for working and a bonus at the end of the job, in return for complete silence about what they were doing. If he discovered that anybody outside that group of workers knew anything about his project, he promised that he would personally kill all six men. And such was the Russian’s reputation even amon
g members of the local community that he knew not one of the labourers would even breathe a word about what they were doing.

  The concept of the job was simple enough, the execution rather more difficult.

  Pedachenko had led the workers into the partially excavated crypt and ordered them to fashion an opening at one corner, an opening small enough to be concealed by wood or sacking from the view of any casual observer. From that point he instructed them to begin creating a small tunnel which would lead from the site of the church down the side of the Mount of Olives, under the Kidron Valley and then up towards the Temple Mount itself. The tunnel would need to be shored up at regular intervals, because the ground it was penetrating was earth and rubble rather than rock, but that at least meant that progress should be fairly fast until they reached the Temple Mount, which stood mainly on solid rock.

  During daylight hours, the normal working day, they worked in the tunnel in pairs, the other four men continuing with the construction of the crypt and other parts of the church. At night, four men worked in the tunnel, one man digging his way deeper into the ground while the other three removed the debris, and used lengths of timber to support the tunnel.

  The straight-line distance between the church and the Temple Mount was not very far, perhaps 500 metres or so, but because the Kidron Valley ran inconveniently between the two locations, the tunnel was a fairly major undertaking, not least because of the importance, and the associated difficulty, of following the contours of the ground. It had to be deep enough to ensure that people walking on the ground above couldn’t hear the sounds of the picks and shovels, but not so deep that the workers lost their sense of direction. At least the horizontal bearing of the tunnel had been easy enough to establish, simply because the Temple Mount was so close to the Mount of Olives.

  * * *

  Pedachenko had been deeply asleep when the workmen hammered on his door but, as soon as he learned what had been discovered, he dressed quickly and followed the labourer through the silent streets of Jerusalem and over to the unfinished church standing on the Mount of Olives.

  He descended to the crypt, pulled a heavy woollen cap on to his head as some protection against the projecting lumps of stone which studded the roof of the tunnel, and ducked inside the entrance. Both Pedachenko and the labourer who’d summoned him carried oil lamps to illuminate their path, and they made their way as quickly as they could along the narrow and constricted tunnel to the western end of the excavation. The flickering light from the lamps cast giant shadows onto the walls of the tunnel as they hurried along, bent almost double in the confined space, their feet slipping and stumbling on the uneven surface.

  At the end of the tunnel, the other three men waited, two of them sitting quietly, leaning against the rough-hewn stone, the third one muttering and groaning as he did his best to attend to his injured hand.

  As Pedachenko reached them, all three stood up and moved aside to let him pass. He stopped a couple of feet from the opening in the rock, which had now been widened and was high enough for a man to step through it, lifted his oil lamp and extended it through the hole and into the old tunnel that his men had breached.

  The light, dim though it was, showed him exactly what lay in front of him, which was precisely what he had hoped to see.

  The tunnel that his men had broken into looked both ancient and abandoned, the walls clearly displaying the marks of the picks and chisels which had hewn it from the solid rock, and also the blackening caused by the naked flames of the torches which workers in antiquity would have been forced to use to see their way.

  Pedachenko studied the area in front of him, as far as the light from his lantern would allow him, then nodded in satisfaction. He had no idea where the tunnel began or ended, and at that moment he frankly didn’t care, because he knew that he had achieved exactly what he had set out to do: he’d managed to break into one part of the tunnel complex which lay under the Temple Mount. No matter where the old tunnel led, he was quite sure that he would be able to find his way through the warren and reach his goal.

  But first, he had to decide what to do about the workmen he’d used to achieve his objective, because now he had – he hoped – no further use for them.

  Pedachenko would have preferred all six of them to be involved in a number of unfortunate accidents which would prevent them ever speaking about their work in the area. The dead simply couldn’t talk, couldn’t betray any secrets and, as far as the Russian was concerned, that was the ideal situation. But he was also aware that the deaths of six men, even the deaths of six simple labourers, would generate unwanted official attention on the church, their place of work, and that was the last thing he needed. Any organized search of the building would quickly reveal the tunnel entrance, and if that were to be discovered, his entire plan would be ruined.

  It went against the grain, but he realized that the best thing he could do was pay the men what he owed them, including the promised bonus, and simply frighten them into keeping their mouths shut.

  He stepped back from the opening and turned to face the four men who were waiting expectantly in the tunnel behind him.

  ‘You have done well, my friends,’ Pedachenko said, his face creasing into a smile. ‘The discovery of this tunnel proves exactly what I had suspected, that there was a watercourse which ran from the Temple Mount to one of the springs in the valley below.’

  That – the fiction that Pedachenko was trying to locate and map the ancient cisterns and watercourses which were believed to be located below and around the Temple Mount – was the justification he’d used when he’d recruited the six men. He’d impressed upon them the difficulty of excavating the ground directly because of the blanket prohibition which existed, and that had been the reason for his offer of increased pay and a bonus if they were successful.

  ‘Thanks to you, I will now be able to map the whole of the tunnel system.’

  He looked at each of the men in turn.

  ‘Your work here is done. I will be at the church tomorrow afternoon, when work ceases for the day, and I will pay you what we agreed when you started this task. Please make sure that your two companions are there as well. And remember, do not speak to anyone of this discovery or of the work you did to make it possible. I will complete my mapping as quickly as I can, and as soon as I have completed that I will also pay you the bonus.’

  ‘You said you would pay us a bonus when the job was finished,’ one of the men pointed out, somewhat sourly.

  Pedachenko nodded.

  ‘You’re quite right, but the job will only be finished when I have completed the mapping that I wish to do. That should only take me a matter of a few days, and then you will receive the money that I have promised you. But remember’ – and here the Russian’s voice seemed suddenly edged with steel – ‘if anyone discovers the tunnel before I have finished, not only will you not receive the bonus, but your lives will be forfeit. I will kill each one of you myself. Let that be clearly understood. You will talk to nobody. Do you all understand that?’

  Quickly, all four men nodded their agreement as Pedachenko again looked sharply at each of them in turn.

  He hoped his entirely justified reputation for violence, and the promise of the bonus payment, would together be enough to force them to keep silent. In truth, he wasn’t particularly concerned about them talking to their fellow workers: his concern was solely that the authorities in Jerusalem should not learn what he had been doing. But now that they had forced a way into the ancient tunnel system, he knew that within a few days, perhaps a week at the most, he would have found the treasure that he sought, and after that it wouldn’t matter what anybody said or did.

  ‘Just so long as we understand each other,’ Pedachenko finished. ‘Now you should all go to your homes and get some rest. You have done an excellent job, and I will see you at the church tomorrow afternoon, as we’ve agreed.’

  Without another word, the four men picked up their tools, turned away, and began heading b
ack down the tunnel towards the eastern end.

  As soon as Pedachenko could no longer see or even hear them clearly, he again thrust his lantern through the opening into the ancient workings and feasted his eyes on the walls of the old tunnel. He was so close to finding the menorah that he felt he could almost reach out and touch it.

  For a moment or two, he considered stepping into the tunnel and beginning his search immediately, but then he rejected the idea. He wasn’t sure how much oil there was left in the lamp he was carrying, and the last thing he wanted was to suddenly be plunged into impenetrable darkness and have to try to feel his way out. Much better to prepare and equip himself properly, to return the following night with two or three oil lamps and whatever other tools he thought he might need to conclude his search.

  He took a final look into the tunnel, then turned on his heel and started to retrace his steps eastwards towards the crypt and its hidden opening.

  April 1888

  Jerusalem

  The following afternoon, precisely as arranged, Alexei Pedachenko arrived at the site of the church on the side of the Mount of Olives, ostensibly to check on the progress of the construction so that he could report back to his masters in Moscow. For several minutes, he discussed the work with the foreman of the gang, then took his leave. But he didn’t go far, stopping a few dozen yards away from the building and taking a seat on a flat rock which offered a good view of the site.

  He waited there as the workers began leaving, exchanging pleasantries with them as they walked past him towards their homes in the old city. The six men he’d recruited were the last to leave the site, apart from the foreman. They stopped near the Russian and talked together, waiting until the foreman had also walked away before approaching him.

  Pedachenko stood up as the men approached and gathered around him in a loose circle. He handed over the additional money which he had agreed, and again reiterated his warning against speaking to anybody about what they’d been doing.