Haunted Blood

by Elik Katzav

  “Now, open the wine. If we’re here, we might as well enjoy our picnic.”

  That evening, we park near the house with the van. The priests start arriving alone and in pairs right before eight thirty. The white minivan leaves about half an hour after the first clergyman walked in and we followed them from a distance, now that we know where they are headed and only want to make sure they are indeed going back to the abandoned church. Sure enough, we see the minivan’s back lights climbing up the dirt road when we get to the foot of the hill.

  After making sure they remained up there, we go back to my room, where Na’ama makes ample use of the shower. She comes out wearing one of my shirts, lays over my couch and purposely breaks my concentration using those long legs of hers.

  I try to keep it professional.

  - I hope you got the finger cam out of the way properly.

  “You wouldn’t have found it even if you knew what you were looking for.”

  - Excellent.

  I smile at her.

  - So let’s let the camera do its thing and go back for it tomorrow morning.

  She turns and looks at me. “And what about the goat herder guard?”

  - We’ll handle him.

  “And when do you plan on raiding the church?”

  - Raid the ruin? After we see where they disappear into, we’ll try and figure out what it is they’re doing there. I don’t believe they’re up to anything harmless. All this secrecy shows they’ve got something to hide.

  “Okay then. So we call the cavalry to come get us out?”

  - Sure, when it’s called for. Right now, all we’ve got is our suspicions. Unless we catch them in the act, this entire investigation goes down the drain. I was thinking of coming back this Sunday, in the evening. I can get close under the cloak of darkness, so even if the goat herder is still around, he would have a hard time spotting me arrive. Besides, they meet at the church on Sunday evenings, so they’ll only get here after that, which will buy me a few more hours to figure out what’s going on around the ruins.

  Na’ama is nodding in agreement.

  “Sounds like a safe plan. You’re not going to play hero, right? If you see something incriminating that can help clarify what they’re doin’ here you’re gonna report it straightaway, right?”

  - Sure. Play hero? Me? I can’t wait to finish up and go home. As much as Nazareth feels like Jaffa, I’m dying to return to my own quiet little pad.

  “Liar. You wanna go back to the beach, to those swooning tourists who fall for that fit body of yours. That’s what you’re really missing.”

  Na’ama doesn’t bother to hide the way she’s checking me out.

  - I’m pleading the fifth on this one.

  I chuckle.

  The following morning, the goat herder is waiting at his usual post by the ruins.

  I manage to shake his hand right before he gets the chance to pull out his cell phone.

  - How are you, old pal?

  “Me? I’m fine. You can’t go in. Dangerous. Roof could fall in,” he chants his usual line.

  - Oh, that’s fine.

  Na’ama gets out of the car and bends over. She’s scanning the ground, occasionally rifling through the sand.

  I point at her.

  - My girlfriend here, she lost her bracelet. It used to belong to her grandma. It means the world to her. Have you seen it by any chance?

  His gaze turns blank. Whoever had him stand here and keep watch never prepared him for such an event.

  - Come with me. Do you mind giving us a hand? Help us look. We’re sure it’s here.

  He looks at Na’ama as she moves slowly, looking closely at the ground. I’m bending over too, so he shrugs and joins us. I turn towards him and motion my intention to go round the back, where we made the turn. He looks at me, then at Na’ama, and probably reckons I’m the more handful among us two and joins me in the search.

  By the time we return to our starting position, Na’ama is already looking in the balcony. We join her, and as the goat herder looks at Na’ama, I drop a silver bracelet to the sand behind me. Na’ama and I stand close to each other at the edge of the balcony, pushing the guy back as he tries to keep his distance anyway. He bends over too, and suddenly picks the bracelet up.

  “Hey,” he calls her, “Yours?”

  The look on Na’ama’s face is just perfect. She thanks him over and over in broken Hebrew. She takes the bracelet he offers her, and as she turns to me, she says, “Give him something for his trouble.”

  I argue with her for a few seconds while he’s looking at us. She eventually pulls her purse out and hands me fifty bucks.

  I shove the bill into his hand.

  - Thanks, that’s for you, for helping her find her bracelet. It was her grandma’s.

  “Thank you,” he replies in Hebrew. He looks at the bill.

  “Thank you,” he says to her in English.

  We thank him and head back to our car.

  Back in the car, we see him in our rear view mirror. He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, watches us and his bill and eventually shoves both the phone and the money deep into his trouser pocket.

  I smile at her as we head back to the main road over the dirt path.

  - See? It’s like we were never here. He’s not gonna own up to getting money from us, so he won’t spill the beans about us ever being here. The whole thing took less than ten minutes, anyway.

  Na’ama produces the finger cam from her handbag and waives the devices across my face.

  “We sure weren’t. All-seeing and invisible,” she smiles.

  We return to my rented room, where we upload the pictures directly from the camera to the laptop.

  Among the hundreds of pictures the finger cam captured, of each and every movement in church, we can see the priests, and the rest of the people from the van arriving at the platform, where they touch something behind it, opening a trap door at the base of the altar platform on the floor.

  The following pictures feature the men bringing some sort of equipment inside the tiny room and descending into the dark opening. The finger cam pauses in the absence of any movement, but four minutes later, it resumes. A light comes on at the center of the platform.

  Na’ama and I are impressed.

  - Now that’s advanced. They’ve got electricity in there.

  “It’s not like they’re wired to some grid. They’ve got a generator,” she reminds me. “Don’t you remember that sound we heard?”

  - Right, but the hum was real quiet.

  Next, the following pictures feature the men bringing heavy duty equipment into the room. It looked like a jackhammer.

  “Are they digging? Does this make sense to you?”

  - Right now, nothing makes sense to me.

  “What are they looking for down there? Underground archeological treasures?”

  - This mountain is ancient. They found traces of prehistoric cavemen. People have been living here throughout the ages.

  Na’ama looks at me.

  I tell her I’ve been reading up on these parts ahead of arriving here in order to learn more about the area.

  “You’ve read about this place? Well, what else did you learn?”

  - It’s sacred to Christianity and Islam alike. The town itself is a center of worship, with pilgrims coming here for centuries, including quite a number of popes who joined Mass right here.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” she cuts me off. “Talk to me about this here church, Maharani, not about Jesus.”

  - There used to be a quarry on the other side of the road. They completed the tunnel road just below only a few years ago. Something here doesn’t make sense.

  I take another close look at the picture. Then, I point to show her.

  - Look. No one comes diggin
g for archeological findings with a jackhammer.

  In the subsequent pictures, we see them bringing in supporting beams and another, smaller jackhammer.

  - Here it is.

  I pause the reel.

  - They’re using support beams, which means their reinforcing the walls. They’re building a tunnel. But where does it lead to? Where are they digging to?

  There’s another pause, about half an hour, until the next picture, showing a man leaving the base of the tunnel, carrying a sack, which he loads on the wheelbarrow.

  “These are the burlap sacks they loaded onto the minivan.”

  - Right. Seems like they’re filled with sand and rocks from the dig. They give ’em to the contractor, who later disposes of them.

  The finger cam captured more pictures over the following three hours. Then, the priests are seen taking the equipment out and closing the opening.

  “They were done earlier than usual,” Na’ama comments. “Nearly two hours earlier than last time.”

  Then, she adds, “Maybe they’re done? Is it possible they found what they were digging for?”

  - Dunno. I sure hope we can still find enough evidence for what they’re doing down there.

  “Isn’t this enough?”

  - No. We have nothing concrete. All they’re doing is digging. Pretty sure they don’t have a permit for that but that’s not nearly enough.

  The next pictures show our friendly neighborhood goat herder entering the church.

  He’s pouring a layer of sand over the floor and sweeps the entire place, wiping away all trace of anyone being there, and out he goes.

  “So,” Na’ama closes the picture file and looks at me.

  “Now you know there’s an entrance under the church floor. Promise me you won’t get lost in the tunnel down there, and that you check in the moment you have all the evidence we need to close this case.”

  - Sure. Take the pictures back to the department with you. Check whether these people are linked somehow and whether they have any police record.

  Then, I add,

  - I’ll keep Aharon posted that I’m about to go in Sunday evening, so be ready, because it looks like that’s the night our mission will be accomplished.

  “Great,” Na’ama smiles, removes the mini camera from my laptop, and puts it in her bag.

  “I’m going back to Tel Aviv. Keep having fun with Father Conroy here, and don’t forget to clear all the leaves at the church.”

  I give her a scolding look.

  “You’ve got no time to be pissed at me,” she gestures with her watch. “You left early yesterday too, and you’re already late today. At this rate, they’ll fire you before your work here is done.”

  I sigh as I get off my chair.

  - All right, fine, I’m going back to work. Just make sure we’re clear to go on Sunday and that everyone’s ready. If I find enough evidence that sticks, we’ll have to book this entire operation. We would have to case Synagogue Church as well and arrest Father Gaynes, so we’re talking about an operation in several locations. I just hope it’s not a false alarm.

  “You’d better see to that. We’re gonna get the entire force around here to carry it through, so your evidence better be real good.”

  I follow Na’ama back to her car. We embrace and say our goodbyes and I watch her drive away. Once she disappears around the bend, I turn and go up towards Synagogue Church.

  Chapter 4

  That evening, the priests appear to be in no hurry to leave for their evening activity. Instead, they go down to the locked crypt, where they seem to be having an unexpected meeting.

  Father Gaynes is coming down the stairs, ignoring me and my broom. The other priests are waiting for him by the door and he goes in first. When I hear them bolting the door from the inside, I walk over quietly. Inside, I can hear Father Gaynes delivering his prayer and the priests echoing his hymns. When they are done, the room goes silent for a few moments, and then the Father starts speaking to the people present.

  Father Gaynes greets everyone in English and thanks them for doing the Lord’s work and tells them that blessings will be upon them for acting to fulfill his will and the will of God.

  I hold my head closely to the door, ever so quietly, hoping to hear more of what’s being said.

  “It won’t be long before we can witness the victory of God’s will. We shall cleanse the heresy with divine fire and the injuries against His holy places shall cease,” Father Gaynes continues. Murmurs of agreement among the priests soon echo.

  Then, they resume prayer, “In order to serve the will of God,” says Father Gaynes, “so that we may join Him in Heaven soon.”

  I move away from the door without a sound and resume sweeping along the corridor. The door opens about twenty minutes later and the priests come out, talking quietly amongst themselves. They watch me inquisitively for a brief moment, turn silent and rush up the stairs.

  I try to make sense of what I had just heard. If the archeological digs are not the driving force behind this activity, then maybe this is some religious rite. This “cleanse the heresy with divine fire” might be some quote.

  On the way back to my room, I text what I had just heard to Na’ama and update her about the activities at the church. In reply, she says this might have to do with some ritualistic mass suicide, adding she’ll check back with Aharon. She asks me to hold off until she gets back to me.

  I also text Father Conroy, asking to meet with him that very evening. He replies and suggests we meet at the Rimonim Café, at the local Rimonim Hotel.

  Aharon checks in as I make my way to the hotel. His friend, the chief of the International Crime Investigations Unit, summoned him for a briefing to ascertain the extent to which our investigation is running the risk the Israeli Police and the entire country might run into an international incident with the Vatican. This entire issue of religious centers is a sensitive matter, and it could trigger an international scandal, so he demands Aharon keeps him updated at all times. Before he is to meet the chief of the International Crime Investigations Unit, Aharon would like to have a conference call with the entire team at ten o’clock that evening, in order to analyze the findings we have gathered thus far and to figure out whether the current missionary activity, combined with the digging under the abandoned church, could be considered as an event that would draw the world’s attention.

  Rimonim Café, on the ground floor, is very busy, which is precisely why the Father chose this particular spot.

  Father Conroy enters in his plain clothes and sits across from me. The hotel’s décor and design date back to the 1980’s, complete with brown wood and green armchairs. As much as this color scheme is easy on the eyes, it’s so out of touch with 2013. Our table is far from the entrance. A young waitress comes over to us and smiles as she asks what we would like to have.

  Father Conroy orders his usual tea and I have a double espresso and bottled water.

  By the time our orders arrive, we catch up on the weather and our respective moods, the Father takes sugar and I adopt a different tone.

  - I discovered what it is your priests are doing at night.

  Father Conroy rests his spoon by his tea cup and looks sideways before leaning over in anticipation for what’s next.

  - What to do you know about Bishop’s Palace?

  As he looks at me, I see he’s got new frown lines across his temple.

  “I know a bit about it, I mean there’s not much to be said about this church. I have to say I am more familiar with the more formal or certified title, “Our Lady of the Fright Church”. It was built back in the 19th century right across from Mount Precipice, which is where our Lord Jesus landed after being thrown off the mountain by an angry mob, right after he declared himself the Messiah. It’s right over what you nowadays refer to as Tunnel Road. But hey,” he pauses briefly, “
there’s nothing there this day and age. The church itself has been abandoned for quite a few decades now. I know that a few years ago, they wanted to have the area developed, build a school, but for now they’ve done nothing. What’s this got to do with Father Gaynes?”

  - I don’t know all the details yet, but our stakeout of the priests eventually led us to Bishop’s Palace, and what’s more interesting, they’re busy digging inside the ruins.

  I pause to have some water and allow Father Conroy to consider what I just said.

  “What are they digging for?” He asks after a few seconds. “Did you see what they were doing inside?”

  - No. They entered via a trap door, just like in the movies. There’s some hidden button in the wall, which opens a secret door under the platform where the altar used to be. They came in with a great deal of equipment.

  “Did you see what they were doing down there?” He reiterates. “Did you actually come through and see this digging for yourself? Do you know what they might be looking for? What did they remove from there?”

  - The pictures we’ve taken show them taking sacks out. We believe these sacks were filled with earth and rocks, which they’ve dug out. We know nothing else, at least not until I get in there myself.

  Father Conroy leans back, his hands held together across his face. He’s staring at the wall. After a few minutes of silence, he says, “I think there was a copy of the blueprints for Bishop’s Palace at the church library. It’s part of our history in this region. There might be something there that could be of some assistance to you. I need to look into it.”

  He takes another sip from his tea.

  “Around the time they built Bishop’s Palace,” he says, tapping on the cup with his finger, “the church has already weaned itself off this notion of hidden openings and side doors designed to spy after visitors and clergy alike. I wonder what made them install that subterranean trap door. I wonder what they might have hid there.”

  I sit in attention.

  - Hang on, you mean the tunnel was already there?

  “Sure,” Father Conroy replies. “From your description of this mechanism in the wall, I deduce it dates back to the time the church was erected. If you are going to dig into the floor, why would you have something built separately especially to open and close the entrance? You would have to dig into the walls again, which is something anyone can spot when the building’s already up and running.