and its bars, and the wall of
the Pool of Shelah at
the King’s Garden as far as
the steps that descend from
the City of David.
“The words in capital letters were missing from the scroll?” asked Dmitri.
“Exactly,” said Natasha.
“What’s the Pool of Shelah?” asked Erin.
“Oh, that’s easy,” said Katya. “Shelah is a Hebrew variant of Shiloah, or Siloam,” said Katya. “That could be the Pool of Siloam in Jerusalem.”
Bennett was stunned. “The pool near Hezekiah’s Tunnel?” he asked. “Where Jesus told the blind man to go wash and he would be healed?”
“Yes, that’s the one,” Katya confirmed.
All eyes turned to Natasha.
“Mrs. Galishnikov is 100 percent correct,” she said. “And what’s intriguing to me is that according to John Marco Allegro, the first member of the Copper Scroll team to actually publish the original text in Hebrew and English, Lines 50 and 51 of the Copper Scroll actually point to the Pool of Siloam.”
She quickly did a Google search for Allegro’s translation and read it to the group.
“In the settling tank of the Bathhouse of running water, under the gutter: seventeen talents. In its four inner corner buttresses: tithe vessels, and inside them figured coins.”
Then Natasha added, “Other translators have put it a little differently. One has it, ‘In the basin of the latrines, beneath the water outlet: seventeen talents. In its pool, at its four corners, tithe vessels and marked coins.’ Either way, a number of scholars—Allegro, my grandfather, and Uncle Eli included—believe the ‘Bathhouse’ or ‘latrines’ and the ‘pool’ nearby were direct references to the Pool of Siloam and the area around Hezekiah’s Tunnel. Now, the scroll that Jon has found may actually confirm that theory.”
“Wait a minute,” said Bennett, at the edge of his seat. “Are you saying the Temple treasures might actually be buried as close as the City of David?”
“I can’t say I know for sure, of course,” said Natasha. “But that does seem to be where this scroll is pointing.”
“That’s just a five-minute walk from the Temple Mount,” Erin gasped.
62
TUESDAY, JANUARY 20 – 1:16 p.m. – MEDITERRANEAN COAST OF ISRAEL
A shock of anticipation moved through the team.
Could they really be that close? Or was this another massive, time-consuming diversion? And even if it was true, what exactly were they supposed to do—march into Jerusalem with a few bags of explosives and blast their way to the Temple treasures?
Natasha tried to keep everyone’s expectations in check. She cautioned that over the decades, numerous archeologists had prospected around the pool, to no avail. A few had even been arrested. There was also the very real possibility that the reference to the Pool of Siloam was, in fact, another decoy. After all, none of the locations directly mentioned in the Copper Scroll had yet borne out to be true. Why should this one?
“Could the treasures be hidden behind a wall inside Hezekiah’s Tunnel?” Bennett wondered.
Natasha chewed on that for a little while. “It would certainly be consistent with the text and with the location,” she agreed. The Pool of Siloam was an open-air water garden—no roof, no covering, and directly visible from at least three sides. The tunnel, on the other hand, was a perfect hiding place—long, dark, narrow, and waist deep with often-freezing running water from the Gihon Spring. It certainly would have been hidden from the prying eyes of Roman soldiers two thousand years ago, not to mention the watchful eye of Israeli soldiers today. Natasha went back and examined several other missing verses, then zeroed in on verse 16 from the Ezekiel passage.
He then brought me
into the inner court of
the house of the LORD,
and there at the entrance
to the temple,
between the portico
and the altar,
were about twenty-five men.
With their backs toward
the temple of the LORD
and their faces
toward the east,
they were bowing down
to the sun in the east.
“I think that’s it,” said Natasha at last.
“What?” asked Bennett, as Erin checked her watch.
“I think that’s the clue we’re looking for!” Natasha said excitedly.
“Which one?”
“‘He then brought me into the inner court,’” Natasha explained. “I think we’re supposed to go into Hezekiah’s Tunnel, into the exact center.”
“You’re sure?” Erin pressed, noting that they had to move soon if they were going to move at all.
“Wait, wait, there’s something else,” said Natasha. “‘Between the portico and the altar.’ That’s another clue. We need to go halfway into the tunnel and then move twenty-five paces from the precise center.”
“How would we know which way?” asked Bennett.
“Well,” said Natasha, “in the passage it says the men were doing something evil. They had turned their backs toward the Temple of the Lord and bowed east, toward the sun. I say we do the opposite. We’ll go twenty-five paces west and try to break through the tunnel wall on the side facing the Temple, digging toward the Temple Mount.”
Bennett’s heart was pounding. Everyone’s was. He didn’t fully understand it, but he trusted Natasha’s experience. It had, after all, gotten them this far. Now all they needed was a plan.
“How can we help?” asked Dmitri.
“Can we borrow your helicopter?” asked Natasha.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” said Natasha. “I’m fully rated.”
“Not my point,” Dmitri replied. “I’m going with you.”
Natasha looked to Bennett.
“Dmitri, you know we’d love to have you with us,” he said as tactfully as he could. “But I think you’ve discovered enough treasure for one lifetime.”
Dmitri didn’t bat an eye. “And what exactly are you planning to do, Jon? Fly into Jerusalem, land near Hezekiah’s Tunnel, and just leave the helicopter there? You really think that’s not going to attract attention?”
“He’s right, Jon,” said Erin.
“Of course I’m right,” said Dmitri. “Besides, there’s no manhunt under way for me. I’ll be able to get clearance to land in Jerusalem. None of you can. I’ll fly you in, drop you off, and then hightail it out of there until you call me to come back for you. That’s it. That’s my final offer.”
Bennett looked at Erin and then at Natasha. It wasn’t like they had a lot of leverage. “We’ll take it,” he said. “But we could also use some men to guard the tunnel.”
“As many as you need,” said Dmitri.
“And some weapons,” said Erin.
“No problem.”
“And we’ll need some other equipment, too,” Natasha reminded them.
“What kind?” asked Dmitri.
“Something to blast through those walls would be nice.”
“Done,” said Dmitri. “Now, if you’re all out of excuses, I suggest we get going.”
* * *
When they were in the air, Bennett called Ken Costello.
“Hello?”
“Ken, it’s Jon. You got a minute?”
“Jon! Are you all right?”
“We’re fine.”
“I just got a call from the Palestinian interior minister,” Costello explained. “He said there’s been some kind of shooting incident outside of Nablus.”
“No comment,” said Bennett.
“Where are you now?”
“I can’t say. Not yet. But—”
Costello cut him off. “Jon, seriously, I’m telling you this as a friend. If you want the president to go to bat for you, you guys have got to come in now.”
“I need a few more hours.”
“Right now.”
�
�Ken, I’m only asking for a few more hours.”
“And if you get caught? Or killed?”
“Look, Ken, I give you my word. We’ll come in today. But I need your help.”
“Are you crazy? You’re going to get us all thrown in prison.”
“We found it, Ken.”
“What?”
“We think we’ve found the treasures of the Copper Scroll.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“And the Ark?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean we haven’t found the treasures yet. But we’re pretty sure we know where they are now.”
“And that’s where you’re headed?”
“Exactly.”
“But you’re not going to tell me where, are you?”
“Not yet,” Bennett admitted. “But look, if something goes wrong, I’ll call you. I’ll tell you officially that Erin, Natasha, and I are ready to come in. And then I’ll need you to send me as much backup as you possibly can. And reporters.”
“Reporters?”
“Lots of them, with cameras, satellite trucks—the whole nine yards.”
“Why?” asked Costello.
“Let’s call it an insurance policy,” said Bennett. “Just promise me you’ll be there for me if I need it.”
“Just promise me you’ll turn yourself in by the end of the day,” Costello replied.
“I promise,” said Bennett.
“Then so do I,” said Costello.
* * *
Indira Rajiv tried to remember where she was.
She tried to remember what day it was. But it was all a blur. She blinked hard and stared at the phone next to her. A label on the handset read The Rome Cavalieri Hilton. She glanced at the alarm clock. Was it already Tuesday? Had she really slept so long? It didn’t seem possible. She suddenly realized the phone next to her wasn’t the one that was ringing. She got up, stumbled across the penthouse suite, and grabbed her satellite phone, answering it on the tenth ring.
“Hello?” she mumbled. “Rajiv.”
“Indira, it’s Erin—got a minute?”
Rajiv was instantly awake. “Erin? Is that you? I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“Then where have you been?” Erin replied. “I’ve been calling you for days.”
Rajiv froze. She couldn’t tell her she’d been escaping a mole hunt, of course. Nor could she tell her “best friend” that she’d actually gotten her voice mail and immediately relayed their location on Mount Ebal to Viggo Mariano’s team, though they’d been too stupid to kill them when they had the chance. Come to think of it, Rajiv wondered, what could she tell her? When nothing came to mind, she quickly changed the subject.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. The point is, where are you right now?”
Erin paused. “First promise me you won’t turn me in,” she insisted.
“Are you kidding?” asked Rajiv. “You know me better than that.”
“You could lose your job if you don’t,” Erin warned.
If you only knew, thought Rajiv, wondering how much longer it would be before Langley told the media she was on the run, wanted on charges of espionage.
“Actually,” said Rajiv, “they’ll probably give me a promotion.”
“Seriously, Indira,” Erin insisted. “You could go to jail.”
“No one’s going to jail,” said Rajiv.
“Then promise me.”
“Erin, really, you’ve got to—”
“Promise.”
“Fine,” Rajiv lied. “I promise. Now what do you need?”
There was a long pause. Rajiv feared Erin wouldn’t believe her, but then she said, “I think we’ve found it, Indira.”
“What?”
“The Temple treasures.”
“Really?” asked Rajiv. “How? Where?”
“I’ll explain later,” said Erin. “Right now, I don’t have much time.”
“Why? Where are you headed?” Rajiv pressed.
“Hezekiah’s Tunnel,” said Erin. “We’re in Dmitri’s helicopter.”
“Dmitri Galishnikov?”
“Yeah. We should touch down in about five minutes.”
“How can I help?” asked Rajiv.
“I need satellite coverage over the tunnel.”
“Expecting trouble?”
“Hoping for it, actually,” said Erin. “We’ll have guys watching both ends of the tunnel, but we need to buy as much time as possible.”
“Who’s helping you?”
“Dmitri’s security team will be guarding the tunnel,” said Erin. “So you’ll do this for me?”
“For you? Anything,” Rajiv answered. “Where should I route the feed?”
Rajiv no longer had access to American spy satellites. But Erin didn’t know that. And this phone call was the break she needed. Now she just had to get the Bennetts’ location to Mariano and his men.
63
TUESDAY, JANUARY 20 – 2:30 p.m. – JERUSALEM, ISRAEL
They landed in the Kidron Valley, about a mile away.
Any closer and Bennett feared they would attract too much attention. But that meant they had quite a hike ahead of them—uphill no less—with much gear and not much time. As they touched down, two of Galishnikov’s security men jumped out of the chopper, armed with MP5 machine guns and communications gear to keep everyone connected. Bennett, Erin, and Natasha were right behind them. Each grabbed an Uzi, ammo, and a backpack stuffed with sledgehammers, picks, flashlights, batteries, and bottles of drinking water, and began racing up the hill, through the Arab village of Silwan, toward the Old City. When they looked back, Dmitri and the chopper were gone.
Ten minutes later, they had reached the Gihon Spring. For thousands of years the spring had been the only source of freshwater for Jerusalemites, who would exit the city gates each morning, fill pails with water, and bring them back to their homes. Now Bennett prayed it would somehow quench their thirst for justice.
The key, Natasha had convinced him, was Hezekiah’s Tunnel. In 701 BCE, the Israelite king Hezekiah—fearing an imminent siege by the Assyrians—ordered his advisors to find a way to channel the water directly into the walled city in such a way that the Assyrians could neither find Jerusalem’s water supply and cut it off nor use it to sustain their own troops. But in order to complete the vital task before Sennacherib and his forces arrived, Hezekiah divided his men into two teams. One began digging from deep underneath the city toward the spring. The other began at the spring and chiseled their way toward the city. The result was a marvel of ancient engineering—a 1,750-foot-long, S-shaped tunnel, snaking its way through the limestone mountains to the Pool of Siloam, which at the time was located inside the walls of Jerusalem.
And according to the Scriptures, it was finished just in time. Israel’s enemies were driven back, and the city and its Temple were saved. How history would play out this time, Bennett had no idea.
He glanced at his watch. On Tuesdays, the tunnel was only open to tourists from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon. It was now 2:47. He held the Uzi tight to his chest and peeked around a stone wall, then across the courtyard. There was no one there. The ticket booth was closed. The door leading to the tunnel was padlocked.
Bennett turned and nodded to the others, and they made their move. While Arik and Roni—Galishnikov’s security men—scanned the grounds for signs of movement, Bennett cut the lock and waved the others through. Everyone entered except for Roni. He would stay and watch their backs.
“Miss Erin?”
“Yes, Roni,” she whispered back.
“I still can’t log on to the satellite feed you were telling me about.”
“Neither can I,” said Arik.
“Don’t worry,” said Erin. “I just talked to my friend. I’m sure it will come online any minute. Keep trying. And call us on the radios if anything comes up.”
“Thanks.”
With that, the rest of the group scrambled down the stairs to the tunnel entrance, turned on their flashlights, and began their journey, with Bennett in the lead, and Erin right behind him.
* * *
Mariano’s satphone rang again.
He instantly recognized the number. It was Rajiv, and he was furious. “I told you to stay put and not make any more calls.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Rajiv shot back.
“He’ll meet you,” Mariano countered. “I told you he would. But I don’t know when, and quite frankly, I’m in the middle of something right now.”
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Then why?”
“Just shut up and listen,” Rajiv barked. “Where are you?”
“Why does it matter?”
“It just does. Now where are you?”
Mariano didn’t have time to play games. But given all Rajiv had given them so far—and the fact that she had left the CIA and her husband and was holed up in his hotel room in Rome—she probably deserved to be listened to for a few more minutes.
“We just left Tiberias.”
“Headed where?” she asked.
“Jerusalem.”
“What’s your ETA?”
“Thirty, forty minutes tops. Why?”
“What about the team in Jordan?”
“In Tel Aviv, waiting for orders. Why? What’s all this about?”
“Erin Bennett.”
“What about her?”
“She just called.”
* * *
The water was knee-deep and freezing cold.
It was January, after all. But at least it kept the team moving. The bigger problem was the fact that though the tunnel rose to a height of some sixteen feet at the other end, in this stretch it was barely five feet high, making it all but impossible to run. They were moving as quickly as they could, but for Bennett it wasn’t nearly fast enough.
“Why didn’t these guys just dig in a straight line?” he asked, hunched over and trying not to smack his head as he followed the serpentine route through the mountain.
The Copper Scroll Page 28