Temple: The Prophecy of the Hidden Treasure (Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries Book 7)

by Bill Thompson

  "How much longer?"

  "One minute – maybe two," Abdel's muffled voice in front of him responded. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes." He was sure he could last that long, but he was getting goose bumps as he wondered what would happen if he couldn't go any farther. What if the passageway ahead of them had become blocked since the last time Abdel was here? It was so cramped there would be only one way to get out – dropping to his knees, lying on one side and shuffling backwards up the narrow tunnel like an earthworm. Cold beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he noticed a sickening acidic taste in his mouth.

  Just then Abdel spoke, his voice clear now, and Brian could see his light. He had reached the end and turned around. Thank God! Brian scrambled out, his bones cracking as he stood upright and stretched. It was markedly cooler; there was a breeze wafting through the corridor now that it wasn't blocked by humans.

  Abdel noticed the sweat pouring off Brian and asked again if he was okay. Brian assured him things were fine now and he turned to look at the place where he stood.

  All thought of the stress and effort it took to get into this subterranean grotto vanished as he slowly moved his eyes from one end to the other. Even though the only light in the large chamber came from two tiny headlamps, there was no way to mistake the significance of what lay in front of him. There was gold everywhere – incredible, priceless artifacts lying in piles as though they were rubbish in a landfill. There were surely hundreds of pieces, perhaps thousands. Statues lay on the ground, their faces staring in timeless grandeur. He saw chests and torahs, flatware and scrolls, ornate screens and tiny vases – each of them lovingly created from solid gold.

  "I can't believe it," he whispered as he became woozy and felt his legs giving way. He found himself in a pose of reverence, kneeling on the dirt floor with his head bowed, gasping for breath. He was in the prayer posture, a position that somehow seemed natural in this place.

  Abdel stood behind him, unable to understand the reverence Brian was experiencing.

  "Didn't I say it was unbelievable?" he said at last.

  "There are no words that could have prepared me for this," he responded, slowly rising to his feet. "This is the most breathtaking sight I have ever beheld. There are more wonderful things in this cavern than in all the museums in Israel. I feel as though God is here in this room, surrounded by the treasures of His people."

  Now Abdel understood. He had been here many times in the past. He always remembered his own first time and how awed he had been at the sight. He explained how his own feelings had overwhelmed him. Every time he laid eyes on this place, it was truly spectacular, even if he believed that Brian's statement about the Israelites being God's chosen people was untrue.

  Grinning like a schoolboy in love, Brian walked around the massive room, taking in one pile of relics after another. Deciding the glow of his headlamp wasn't sufficient, he took out his phone and turned on the flashlight.

  "No!" Abdel shouted when he saw the bright light. "No pictures!"

  "That wasn't what I was doing," Brian shot back in surprise. "I was using it to see better. Is that okay?"

  Abdel nodded and Brian asked why he couldn't shoot photos.

  "For the moment, this discovery is mine alone. If you and I reach an agreement on how you might be involved in it, then by all means we can discuss photos ... perhaps even a documentary on television."

  Those words echoed Brian's own thoughts. He was content to be an observer if there was a chance he could reveal this extraordinary discovery to the world. Since there would be no pictures to document exactly where the items lay, Brian insisted on one thing, declaring that they shouldn't move anything because everything in the room eventually must be photographed and cataloged in situ for archaeological preservation and documentation. Only after the experts were done could anything be moved. Abdel was more dealer than archaeologist, but he agreed. He'd been guilty of taking artifacts now and then in the past, but this discovery was something entirely different. The bulk of the objects lay where they had been placed two thousand years before and they were truly unique.

  Many years ago, long before Brian grew up and became a real archaeological adventurer, he'd dreamed of hidden caches of treasure and read everything he could get his hands on about amazing discoveries. One surprising place he learned about buried secrets was at church in Longview, Texas. His parents never missed a service, and as a child in Sunday school, he'd heard the words of Ezra, a minor prophet whose book in the Bible wasn't that significant to many people, but to a boy already fascinated with treasure-hunting, Ezra's descriptions were exciting. Enthralled with its story, he had read and reread the book. Ezra had accompanied a vast treasure when King Cyrus of Persia told the Israelites to bring it back to Jerusalem. He had been there and his book described the temple and the gold and silver objects it contained – the very things that lay before Brian at this moment.

  Using Ezra's words as a jumping-off point, he'd researched other parts of the Bible – Second Kings, Second Chronicles and Isaiah – reading fascinating accounts of massive caches of silver and gold objects that had long since disappeared. Decades later, that child who'd been fascinated with biblical tales was standing in a cavern, seeing the real thing. He was overwhelmed by the splendor of it all and awed by the knowledge that twenty-five-hundred-year-old words from the Bible were literally true. As had happened so many times through the centuries, once again God's word was proven to be fact, not fiction.

  That knowledge was the most awe-inspiring thing to Brian as he stood in the cavern. He maneuvered the room carefully, illuminating the floor with his phone to avoid stepping on anything. He sidestepped stacks of golden shields, drinking vessels, bowls and cutlery lying in disarray. He imagined how it must have been that day in AD 70 with the temple and most of Jerusalem going up in flames. The high priests and trusted servants must have pushed and shoved their ways through crowded streets, guiding donkeys pulling heavy carts. Brian visualized these priceless objects – hundreds of them – hidden under heavy cloths. Once away from the hubbub, the priests would have begun the long journey to this remote place. Maybe long ago other Israelites had used this hiding place also. Maybe this was the very cave where five hundred years before, King Cyrus had brought the Israelites to redeem treasure hidden before they were taken into captivity.

  Brian imagined that night two thousand years ago when priests stood on the very spot, urging servants to hurry and unload the hoard. There was no time to lovingly arrange the sacred objects. They were tossed haphazardly about in hopes they would be safe from the Roman invaders. Someday the temple would be rebuilt and someone would come for them. Two millennia had passed; so far there was no new structure on the Temple Mount. But Brian believed what the Bible said about the Third Temple. Despite the Muslims' sacred Dome of the Rock that sat majestically atop the hill, the Jews would somehow build a new temple, fulfilling prophecy and signaling the end of days for people on Earth.

  Something interesting amid a stack of golden goblets and urns brought him out of his reverie. He dropped to his knees and, without touching it, examined it closely. It was a small rectangular chest sheathed in gold and crowned by two winged cherubs, their childlike faces beaming in delight.

  Abdel saw what he was doing and knelt beside him. When he got a close look, he was astounded. When he had been here before, he had never seen it. "Is it ... could that be ..."

  "The Ark of the Covenant?" Brian replied, his eyes ablaze with wonder. "As amazing as that discovery would be, I'm sorry to say this isn't the Ark. The book of Exodus gives its dimensions and this one's far too small. I've done a decent amount of research on the subject. According to the Bible, the Ark was one of the treasures of the First Temple, but it disappeared. When King Cyrus freed the Jews, they got their treasure back, but the Ark wasn't part of it. This small one fascinates me, regardless. I think this was a replica for public display, smaller than the original but identical to it. We may not be looking at the Ark of t
he Covenant, but the man who created this beauty probably sat in front of the original Ark and copied the design. That's incredibly exciting to think about!"

  Abdel nodded and Brian surprised him when he said, "Let's see if we can find another one."

  He swept his light across the piles of relics and saw another exactly like the first.

  "Aha! There it is!"

  "How did you know there would be two?"

  "From research. The public areas of the temple were laid out symmetrically. I'd bet you'll discover that lots of the objects in this cave are pairs."

  They talked about how the arks and the vast array of other relics – some tall and graceful such as candlesticks, others short and stubby like drinking glasses, cups and wine goblets – must have occupied prominent spots in that sacred building, according to the scriptures.

  The minutes flew by as they knelt to observe as many beautiful pieces as they could. Abdel had promised only one hour and the time was up far sooner than Brian wished. They maneuvered back up the tight, narrow passageway and stretched their backs at the cave entrance. Then they climbed the rope and stood on the edge of the cliff. Abdel handed him the hood.

  "I must come back, you know," Brian said as he put it on.

  "If it is Allah's will, you shall."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Despite what his boss believed, Abdel Malouf's young driver Mohammed understood English very well. He and five other twenty-year-olds had spent two years at an al Qaeda training camp deep in the Syrian desert. In addition to English, they were taught skills and trades to make them employable by Jews and Palestinians in Israel. Instructors taught Mohammed to drive, and now he had both an Israeli driver's license and a commercial taxi certificate. He had required only one more thing to be legitimate – a list of references. Creating one was a simple matter, and soon Mohammed appeared to have a loyal following of Israeli clients who raved about their clean-cut, polite young driver.

  They furnished him a reliable Land Rover – not so new as to be conspicuous but perfectly acceptable for chauffeuring people around town. He kept it impeccably clean inside and out and always courteously turned his radio low so it wouldn't disturb his passengers ... and so he could hear their conversations. It always surprised him how openly people would talk in the backseat as though he were simply a fixture instead of a human with an iPhone in his lap that recorded every word.

  He arranged to meet his handler Jamel at the usual place. The men swapped phones and Abdel said, "Tell the leader this one is special. Abdel took an American to Beth Shean yesterday to show him something. He made his passenger – a man named Brian – wear a hood part of the time so he wouldn't know where we were going. And listen to this. The American is a friend of President Harrison's. Another thing – Abdel wants to move his most valuable pieces out of the Old City before Israel shuts everything down. He asked his friend to help him do that."

  "What did they do at Beth Shean?"

  "I don't know because Abdel instructed me to stay with the car where I parked it on a hill above the ruins. Abdel led the man away while he was still hooded. They walked northwest and disappeared into some trees. I was afraid to follow for fear he would see me. They were gone about an hour. As we drove back, they both seemed very happy and Abdel said they had seen wonderful things of incredible value. And he said that if ISIS or al Qaeda take control of Israel, they will surely destroy not only the city but also whatever things he showed the infidel."

  "You will hear from me if the leader has questions," Jamel said when Mohammed was finished. He handed over an envelope with fifty American dollars in it and dismissed him. Tariq would be very interested in the recording. Abdel had been a soldier for decades, but al Qaeda hadn't used him in a long, long time. Despite that, the organization always kept a tight rein on its operatives within Israel. In past years, the Jews had turned some of them, and it had caused significant setbacks to the jihadist cause. Today things were even more stringent. With war a distinct possibility, the leader wouldn't tolerate defectors without exacting swift and horrible retribution. Only a month ago a traitor's body had been flayed while he was still alive and hung on a cross. His wife received a video in the mail, showing the gory execution, a terrifying reminder of the brutal nature of al Qaeda's young leader.

  Mohammed pocketed his new phone and the money and drove home. He was scheduled to drive Abdel again soon. Hopefully after that one his wallet would be even fatter.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "This is the White House switchboard. Please hold for a call from the president."

  No matter how many times he heard them, those words still made Brian pause. He'd known Harry Harrison since they were roommates at Oklahoma University. He'd watched his friend become a congressman from Oklahoma, then a United States senator and finally the running mate for President John Chapman, whose mysterious death had made Harry commander-in-chief.

  No matter how long you've known someone, Brian reflected, it makes your heart jump a little when you're told that the president of the United States is calling.

  "Hello, Brian. I hear Nicole's safely home and that's good news. But how about you? Did you go to the cavern with Abdel Malouf?"

  "I did. I saw the treasures. It's hard to find words to describe them. If I can turn this into a documentary, it'll bring the Old Testament to life. Some of the pieces undoubtedly date back to the First Temple – the time of King Solomon. They're fascinating. They're absolutely incredible ..." He paused, realizing how shallow his vain attempt to find the right adjectives sounded. "I have to do a little more work here before I can come home."

  Despite his deep concern for Brian's welfare, his friend’s excitement made Harry smile. Even volatile political instability couldn't dampen this guy's enthusiasm for adventure.

  "It doesn't matter if there are assassinations or airport bombings or saber-rattling, right?"

  "Come on, Harry. I don’t think it’s as bad as that. You’re as paranoid as Nicole is!”

  Harry’s tone changed. "I have a little advice and you can take it or leave it. You’re too flippant about all this. You’re one of the smartest people I know, so it’s not that you’re ignorant of the danger around you. It’s because you choose to focus on what you want and ignore the rest.

  “You’re my best friend but I'm not married to you. Don't make light of how she feels. She has a whole different investment in you since you tied the knot. You're her future, and vice versa. Every time you scared the hell out of her before, it was her boyfriend who was in trouble. Now it's her life partner – her soulmate. I'm not trying to preach to you but there's no way to sugarcoat the facts. You need to think about her as much as you do yourself, Brian. Maybe you need to slow things down a little. Indiana Jones always gets away in the end, but this isn't a movie. What's developing in Israel is downright terrifying. You're right in the thick of it. It must seem ten times worse in person. If you won’t accept that danger’s all around you, maybe you need a reality check."

  His friend’s words stung and Brian struggled to shrug off his own concern – the fear he pushed down inside himself so that he could accomplish his goals. Harry was right. So was Nicole. But he knew the tremendous potential of a documentary about this extraordinary cavern.

  "I really appreciate your advice. It means a lot to me. I'm trying to convince Abdel to take me back to Beth Shean one more time. Then I'll be on the first plane home."

  Beth Shean? Harry knew where Brian had been but he was surprised he knew it too. "How do you know that's where you were? I thought you said Abdel kept it a secret."

  "Simple. Since we never crossed a border, I googled ancient cities in Israel. I found a few and when I saw Beth Shean, that was it. There was a picture of the city from the same hill where I stood myself."

  It was time to level with Brian. "I'm going to tell you something about Abdel – something confidential that I hoped I didn’t have to mention. Now that you insist on going back with him, you need to know what he may be. Malouf's bee
n on the CIA watch list for years. He conducts himself like thousands of other Arabs living in Israel, but in the past, he associated with some characters who were linked to al Qaeda. Granted, it's hard to grow up in Syria without running into jihadists. Whatever he was or still is, the Mossad's still keeping an eye on him even after all these years."

  Brian was amazed. Of all people, Abdel didn't seem the type – he was a little on the meek side, someone other kids might have called a chicken when he was little.

  "I can hardly believe it. I wouldn't think he could be involved in anything like that." But he also knew it could be true. You couldn't always pick out the good guys in an environment where there were so many ethnicities, religions, backgrounds and political agendas thrown together in one small piece of real estate.

  "We talked in the car yesterday," Brian advised. "He said he was sorry about the assassinations and that even though he didn't like the Jews in particular, terrorism wasn't the way to deal with them. I asked him about Shigon and he said it was a poor choice – a knee-jerk reaction against the Arabs. He said Shigon's such a hawk that it'll only make things worse with the Palestinians and the countries that border Israel."

  "That's interesting information and in other circumstances I’d ask you to see if he’ll talk about AQS. I doubt he'd tell you anything, but his body language might be revealing. All that said, I honestly hope you don't see him again. I'm begging you as a friend to get the hell out of there right now. But I also know what a bullheaded guy you are and that you’re going to do this your way."

  "I wish you'd stop mincing words." Brian laughed, wishing he were as jubilant as he tried to appear. "If I can work out this one last trip I’ll have plenty of time to talk with him in the car. After that I'll leave the country, Harry. I’m not crazy and I’m not trying to put myself in danger. I think it’s important that the world sees what Abdel’s shown me."