by Jim Plautz
“Jim, you have a call - a Lynda Suarez, from the White House.”
I rolled over in bed and looked at the clock; 9:30 AM. Not too early, even for a Saturday, unless you throw in the fact that I was experiencing severe jet flag after a red eye flight from Cairo. “Thanks Mary. Tell her it will be just a minute,” I said as I tried to wake up. I needed to splash cold water on my face and get rid of the foul taste in my mouth.
“Ms. Suarez, this is Jim Simpson. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry for bothering you at home on a Saturday, but we are operating on a tight time frame. Can you be in Washington Monday to meet with the Assistant Secretary of State for the Middle East?”
“Why?” I asked succinctly. After being home only eight hours after two weeks in Africa, I wasn’t in the mood to jump onto a plane again to meet with some politician.
“I don’t have the specifics, but my boss asked me to tell you that the State Department has several fast-track civilian contracts that will be awarded next week. Matthew Wilson suggested we give you the first crack at one of them.”
Name dropper, I thought. The mention of Matthew’s name was all it took. “Okay, I can be there by 10:00 AM if there are seats left on US Air. Just tell me where to go.”
“Don’t worry about a commercial flight. We will have a Lear Jet waiting for you at the private hanger at Tampa International. You should be home for dinner. There is plenty of room on the plane if you wish to bring a business associate.”
“Is there anything else I should bring?”
“No, just an open mind,” Suarez replied seriously.
“This has to be a joke,” I said to myself as I dialed Matthew’s cell phone number.
“No joke,” Matthew said without bothering to say hello.
“I’ll see you Monday. Bring your pen.”
With Matthew involved, this was likely to be a major undertaking in some third world country. I considered how Rosann would react to the news of another big overseas contract. We had been looking forward to spending more time together around the house. Pete and Lisa were never home anymore given their tennis careers and Pete’s upcoming wedding to Ambre in June. It’s funny, most people look forward to taking vacations overseas or traveling to Paris or Australia to watch their kids play in a grand slam tennis tournament. We were so lucky that we could do all that, but now we looked forward to spending time together at home, especially Mary. She had several close friends and was active in several clubs and charities to keep her busy and still ranked #6 in the Florida 35 and over tennis rankings. I knew, however, she had been looking for the Ethiopia job to wind down so I could cut back on my travel.
“Breakfast is ready,” Rosann shouted from the kitchen. Intercoms were a waste of money I thought, as I threw on some workout clothes.
“Good morning, dear,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “Thanks for letting me sleep late.”
“That was your reward for your Oscar performance last night,” Rosann said with a smile.
“I don’t remember having much of a choice,” remembering the sheer negligee she was wearing when I entered the house. “What if it had been the Maytag repair man?”
“Well, then we probably would have the best maintained appliances in the subdivision,” she said with a laugh. “After two weeks alone in the house I wasn’t asking for IDs.”
I might as well get it over with, I thought. “That phone call .…” I started.
“Yes,” Rosann answered, putting the waffles on my plate. She had noticed the hesitancy in my voice. “Where are you off to this time?”
“They want me in Washington Monday to discuss some contracts that the State Department is awarding. Apparently Matthew has something to do with it.” Rosann liked Matthew and usually I got a free pass if I used his name. Not today.
“Oh no, you’re not taking another job in Africa or some God-forsaken place like that. Why should you? We don’t need the money.”
“I haven’t said yes to anything,” I argued. “I just want to see what they have to say. Who knows, maybe they want us to clean the beaches in Malaga.” I was desperate and I knew Rosann wanted to take a vacation to Southern Spain.
“Eat your breakfast. We are in a mixed doubles tournament at the club this afternoon and have an 8:30 tee time tomorrow. We might as well enjoy the weekend.”
Monday, Ken and I boarded the private jet to Washington and enjoyed a continental breakfast on board consisting of coffee, juice and croissants. “How was your weekend, Jim? Play any golf?”
“I played bad tennis Saturday and bad golf on Sunday. I saw so much sand that I thought I was still in Ethiopia. Luckily, I had a good partner Saturday or it would have been a lost weekend.”
“She sure can hit that backhand,” Ken added referring to Mary’s two-handed service return.
“Yeah, she was hot. All I had to do was cover the alley and stay out of her way. How about you? Did you golf this weekend?” I asked knowing that Ken played at least once.
“74 on Saturday and a cool 69 on Sunday that would have been a 65 if I could putt. I bought some new irons and I couldn’t miss. We will have to play some this week.”
“Yeah, right,” I said without enthusiasm, “and I suppose you want a stroke or two?”
“Why not? You’re the ex club champion.”
“That was so long ago that we’re the only two people that remember.” I said, reflecting back on that weekend that I beat Jack with a 12-foot putt on the 36th hole. “That sure brings back some memories.”
“Not for me,” Ken mused. “I was in a Mexican hospital fighting for my life.”
“That’s because you got drunk and fell off a balcony,” I chided, knowing full well that Ken had been pushed.
“By the way, Jack says hi. He shot a 71 Saturday, but still lost a little money. He had the nerve to call me a ‘Simpson’.”
I laughed, realizing that Jack still told anyone that would listen that he was sandbagged in that winner-take-all tournament. “Yes, we should try to play a little if we have time this week; maybe Friday? It would be fun seeing Jack and the guys again.”
“Why don’t we see about playing in the Friday morning men’s game? I’ll get us a 4th and enter us as a four-some so we can play together,” Ken added, knowing full well that on Fridays the teams were picked by the lowest handicap golfers, but the golfers chose their own foursomes. “They still play two-best-balls so it’s ideal for players like you that haven’t played much and might hit a couple bad shots.”
“Yes, let’s do it; that will be fun. Hopefully we won’t need to be out of town again,” I said thinking back to my discussions with Rosann.”
“What are we getting ourselves into today?” Ken asked. “Do you know anything more than you told me?”
“Nope, only that Matthew is involved”
“Which means that we will be flying off to some starving, bug-infested nation that can’t pay us anything,” Ken said almost half-joking. “Why can’t Matthew and Father McGinnis devote their energy to saving countries that at least have running water and cable TV?”
I smiled at the absurdity of his statement. “Let’s hear them out, Ken, but I will say this; I’m not in any mood to build roads or office buildings in some third-world country. Rosann would have my ass,” I confided. Ken nodded in understanding.
The rest of the flight we spent reading and lost in our own thoughts.
Matthew kept a low profile, away from the mahogany conference table where Ken and I sat listening as David Rutherford; the Assistant Secretary of State for the Middle East described the project. Thirty minutes into the presentation Mr. Rutherford came to the point. “Mr. Simpson, we want Simpson International to take the lead in a multi-national effort to rebuild Babylon and restore this historic city to the greatness and world prominence it once enjoyed.”
I spilled my coffee; literally, I spilled my coffee. Fortunately, this gave me time to absorb what the man had said while everyone scrambled to limit the damage. I noticed
Matthew smiling at my embarrassment. “Matthew, you could have warned me so I didn’t make such a fool of myself,” I complained.
“Please go on, Mr. Rutherford. You now have our complete attention,” I said with a wooden smile.
“I take it this means you have some understanding of the importance of this project to the free world. Baghdad is beyond repair. Its infrastructure is shot and it seems it is irrevocably divided into religious sects. We are proposing to rebuild Babylon and make it the political and financial center of this part of the world.”
“Not to mention the religious capital of this region,” Matthew added. “There is no other city in the world where Shiite and Shia Muslims would live together in peace.”
“I thought Babylon was a biblical city,” Ken said, making a statement more than a question. “If I remember my Bible studies correctly, Babylon is mentioned more than 300 times.”
“That’s right, Mr. Reed, it was the first city built after Genesis and was once the cultural and political center of the world. The historical and biblical significance of Babylon is unrivaled by any other city with the possible exceptions of Rome and Jerusalem,” Rutherford continued. “That’s why we have agreed to help Iraq restore Babylon to its prior glory.”
“Let’s talk a little bit about the details,” I suggested. “How do you plan on accomplishing this goal and how long do you think it will take?”
“This project will take forever,” Rutherford said with a smile, “but we hope to have a framework in place in five years. Restoring the ‘old town’ of Babylon is just a small part of it. We also envision a new, modern city resplendent with office buildings, shopping centers, restaurants, residential communities and so on. Five years from now we hope to have a thriving city and a blueprint for growth.”
“Where does Simpson Construction fit into this plan? We obviously would be there forever if we tried to rebuild Babylon ourselves.”
“There are plenty of governments and private contractors that are eager to get a piece of this. Several countries including France, Germany and Iran would love to undertake the entire project. There is no shortage of manpower or financial resources. The World Bank will provide whatever money we require, within reason of course.”
“You want someone to manage the project and coordinate all of these groups,” I said, starting to get the picture.
“That’s correct, we need a project manager. Matthew said you were the best and that if anyone can do a fast-track project, it was you.” The way he looked at me told me that he thought it was an impossible job to control all these diverse factions.
“Can we take a 15-minute break to talk this over?”
“You’re not really thinking of doing this, are you?” Ken asked in amazement. “Everyone in the room knows it’s an impossible job.”
“This reminds me a little bit of that job we undertook in Mexico City to build the sports arena. It was tough, but we did it and eventually it got us the work to rebuild Roland Garros.”
“You can’t compare a rinky-dink job like that to rebuilding the entire city of Babylon. The problem in Mexico was getting them off their asses to do some work; the problem in Iraq is to stop someone from shooting us in the ass.”
“It won’t be that bad,” I replied unconvincingly.
“Yes it will,” Matthew said as he walked over to our table. “Nobody will want to follow your orders and there are a lot of fanatics that will try to disrupt anything that will get Iraq back on its feet. Don’t underestimate the challenge.”
“You are the one that recommended us,” Ken stated.
“I just told them that if anyone can do it, you could. I’m just not sure anyone can do it.”
“Think of the benefit to the Iraqis and the Western world if this succeeds,” I argued. “A prosperous, democratic Iraq would go a long way to curbing Iran and the radical Muslim movement. I would like to give it a try, with one condition.”
“Which is?” Ken asked.
“We need to control the money. Nobody gets paid unless we approve the invoice.”
“It might work,” Ken agreed; “it will take a lot of accountants, but it might work.”
“Matthew, what do you think?”
“Try it. By the way, ask for a 10% project management fee which includes a 5% donation to my world disaster relief program. The money will feed a lot of hungry children in Africa,” he said seriously. “I still don’t know if you can pull this off, but it’s worth a try. I wish you luck.”
The 5% fee Matthew requested startled me and I flashed back to my discussions with Chris Lewis and the CIA, but I should have known that Matthew was one step ahead of me. He always was. What I didn’t know was that Matthew was 10 steps ahead of us on this one.
It took twenty minutes to get a handshake agreement with Rutherford and settle on an 8% management fee, plus expenses. Matthew still insisted on getting his 5%, but three percent of a $600 million dollar per month expenditure is still a lot of money and would pay for quite a few accountants. It took another three hours to get a status report from the State Department’s technical team and to work out the mechanics of how the money would flow. I was pleased to see that a lot of work had already been started. At 3:00 PM we were ready to go home when Matthew informed me of a change in plans.
“Jim, I took the liberty of calling Rosann and asking her if I could borrow you for a couple days. Do you mind?”
“I assume she said yes,” I asked. “Where are we going?”
“Have you been to Jerusalem?”
“No, are we leaving this afternoon?”
“Tomorrow morning. Tonight we are attending a small, black tie dinner party at the White House. The President wants to meet you and Mary.”
“Mary?” I repeated in surprise.
“Yes, she should be on her way now. I sent the Lear back to pick her up. The President took the liberty of making hotel reservations. Tomorrow, she and Ken will head back home to Tampa on the Lear and we will fly to Jerusalem.”
“Why are we going to Jerusalem?”
“To see the Temple Mount and the Dome of the Rock; you could use a little perspective on what you are getting yourself into.”
Matthew and I strolled through the walled city of Jerusalem, past the Armenian Quarter, and past the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which dominated the Christian Quarter. Matthew had been here a year earlier and was my guide.
“We’ll come back later and visit the Chapel of the Invention of the Cross which was dedicated to the Ethiopian community in the 12th Century after the Muslims overran the city. The Ethiopian connection with Jerusalem is really quite remarkable.”
I just nodded as I took in the sights of this historic city. We continued walking along the Street of Chains. To our right was the Jewish Quarter and to the left was the Muslim enclave. Straight ahead were the Temple Mount and the magnificent Al-Aqsa mosque erected by the Caliph Omar in the seventh century AD.
“There it is,” I said to myself thinking of the wars that had been fought over this piece of land, identified in both the Bible and the Koran as the site where Abraham offered up his son in sacrifice.
“This is the 3rd most sacred site in the Islamic world,” Matthew explained. “According to the Koran, Mohammed and Gabriel made the Night Journey to the Throne of God in the 7th century AD.”
“The Muslims built smack dab on the site where Solomon built the Temple as a permanent resting place for the Ark of the Covenant, a centerpiece for the traditional Jewish religion,” I added, showing off the research I had done in preparation for our visit.
“That wasn’t unusual,” Matthew replied. “Muslims often built their Mosques directly over the religious sites of the people they conquered. They did the same thing in Elephantine,” he explained, referring to the location where the Ark was rumored to be hidden before continuing its journey from Solomon’s Temple to Lake Tana.
“If the Ark is ever found, Matthew, do you think there is any chance it would be returned here?
The Muslims wouldn’t allow it, would they?”
“It depends upon who finds it. Who knows what they would do with the Ark if the Muslims found it? But if the Jews or Christians find it, there will be a lot of pressure to build a 3rd Temple on this site. Let’s go inside,” Matthew said, putting an end to this line of questioning.
Minutes later we were kneeling next to the Shetiyyah, the foundation stone of the world according to orthodox Jews. The massive stone was about 30 feet in diameter and jutted out above the bedrock of Mount Moriah. Rugged and asymmetrical, it seemed to emit a presence that made you believe that this indeed could be the foundation stone of civilization.
“Touch it, Jim. Can you feel it?”
I laid my hand on the porous rock and closed my eyes, trying to envision what the rock saw in 955 BC when Solomon, son of David, placed the Ark of the Covenant on this spot. “I wonder if Solomon believed in his heart that this would be the Ark’s final resting place,” I mused.
“Well, if he did,” Matthew commented, “he was a bit of an optimist. It wasn’t 30 years later that an Egyptian king overran the city and according to scripture, looted the treasures of the house. This was the first of many conquerors that overran the city before the Babylonians completely destroyed the Temple in 587 BC.”
“So where did the Ark go, and who took it?” I asked, more perplexed than ever.
“Let’s go downstairs,” Matthew replied, momentarily putting an end to my inquiries.
We descended down a stairway into a hollow beneath the stone that Muslims call the ‘Well of Souls’ where legend says that you can hear the voices of the dead intermingled with sounds of the River of Paradise. Below are the secret passages, now sealed, where many Jews believe the Ark was hidden when the temple was looted. Many Jews believe the Ark is still here, but we might never know for sure. Islam authorities vigorously prohibit excavation below the Dome.
“Do you believe there is a secret hiding place below us?” I asked Matthew. “Could the Ark still be here, hidden beneath the rock where it was originally kept?”
“No, I don’t. Many people have looked since the Ark disappeared? Let’s go next door to the Mosque and you will see what I mean.”
“See those three bays?” Matthew asked as we neared the mosque.
“Magnificent,” I commented. “What type of architecture is that?”
“The Al Asqa Mosque is a fascinating mixture of old and new architecture that tells a story by itself. For example, Mussolini donated the marble columns inside, but the porch bays were designed by the Knights Templar between 1119-1187 AD when they used the mosque as their headquarters. This is where the Catholic Order was founded,” Matthew added. “Take your shoes off.”
We entered the mosque and saw immediately what Matthew meant by the mixed architecture. It was a blend of many periods and obviously had been added to and renovated since it was built. “Why did the Knights Templar come here?” I asked, as we proceeded downstairs. The stables used 800 years ago by the Knights were well preserved.” My senses could almost detect the odors of the majestic steeds and the sounds of Knights putting on their metal armor preparing for battle.
“Most people agree their prime purpose was to search for the Ark of the Covenant,” Matthew answered. “As you might know, the Knights Templar became a warlike offshoot of the church and finding the Ark would have made them the dominant power in their day. In fact, in later years the church was fearful of the Knights because of the power and money they had amassed. This power was the source of their demise.”
“That’s why you don’t believe the Ark is hidden beneath the Well of Souls, isn’t it. If the Ark was here, they would have found it. But what if they did find it?”
Matthew smiled. “If they found it, what was James Bruce doing in Ethiopia 650 years later, if not looking for the Ark?”
“Wasn’t Bruce a member of the Knights Templar?” I asked in bewilderment. Just as I thought I understood the situation, another angle cropped up. “Who was he?”
“He was a Scottish freemason and claimed to be a distant relative of Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland. Regardless of this claim there is no dispute that James Bruce was one of the most brilliant people of his time and spent many years in Ethiopia searching for the Ark,” Matthew added.
I was now totally confused.
“Let’s get a bite to eat. This afternoon I want to introduce you to a Falashas priest that lived in Gondar.”
“Gondar, Ethiopia; what’s he doing in Jerusalem?”
“Most of the ‘Black Jews’ relocated back in the 1990s because they were being persecuted in Ethiopia. It will do you good to hear their story.”
“What story?”
The story of why the Ark might have been taken to Ethiopia and particularly the Lake Tana region, in the first place.”
“Okay. I’ll bite; why Ethiopia?”
“Because there was a sizeable population of Jews in the Gondar area that they knew would protect the Ark.”
“How did Jews get to Ethiopia 3,000 years ago?” I asked, trying to follow Matthew’s line of thought. “Was this part of the Solomon – Queen of Sheba connection?”
“You’re half right. Solomon was rumored to have fathered another child with the Queen’s maid-servant and this is the origin of the Solomonic dynasty that ruled Ethiopia from 1268 - 1974, when the last emperor, Haile Selassie, was deposed by a military coup.”
“So you believe the Ark is in Ethiopia?”
“Maybe, but I sure don’t believe it’s in Jerusalem,” Matthew answered carefully. “Who knows for sure, maybe it’s in Babylon? Remember, Jim, it was Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, that burned Solomon’s Temple to the ground in 587 BC and evicted the Jews from Jerusalem and relocated the Jews to Babylon.”
“The entire Jewish population?”
“Yes, everyone; and the Jews have not forgotten. There is a passage in the Old Testament that starts and ends like this;”
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept,
when we remembered Zion.
If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the
roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.
“When did they come back to Jerusalem?”
“Fifty years later the King of Persia, Cyrus the Great, conquered Babylon and freed the Jews. He returned the treasures Nebuchadnezzar had taken from the temple and allowed them to return to Jerusalem in 538 BC. A year later they started to build the 2nd temple.”
“I gather the Ark wasn’t one of the treasures that were returned,” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“No, in fact, there is evidence that the Ark was not in the Temple when it was looted. The list compiled by the Babylonians of what they took was pretty complete and it didn’t contain any mention of the Ark. Most historians agree that the Ark had already been moved to another location.”
“So you don’t think the Ark is in Babylon?”
“No, but Babylon is a key to the puzzle for many other reasons.”
“Matthew, I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“Not now, Jim, but suffice it to say that Babylon was once known as the city of sin. I’m hopeful that the new city will erase the blasphemy that is associated with the old Babylon.”
Years later, when Matthew lay on his bed close to death, I would wish that I had pursued this topic while I had the opportunity. Babylon was indeed an important key to the puzzle, but at that time I did not understand the Biblical implications of rebuilding Babylon.
Chapter 11 - International Basketball