Jacob pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and studied the image. “What does it reveal?”
“Let’s see.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Paul Marcus keyed in data and watched an illustration form on his computer screen. He said, “Newton had to translate and transcribe Hebrew from Kings in the Hebrew Bible into English to put together an image. I think he believed there was something to be found — some threshold in Solomon’s Temple to follow what would lead to a mathematical resolution. He’s noting here that the temple’s measurements given in the Bible are numerical problems, related to potential solutions for the Greek number pi and the volume of a sphere, such as earth and our place and proportion to it.”
Jacob studied the image. “But pi is a pure number with no real measurable dimensions, meaning that it is simply a number without physical units.”
Marcus nodded. “Exactly! So Newton was searching for clues, maybe measurements from Solomon’s Temple, which might shed more light on all of this. But why did he focus on the temple?”
“Possibly, because there are many who believe in a sacred geometry — the cubit measurements used for the temple and other buildings.”
“What’s sacred geometry?”
“In essence, the temple may have been designed by Solomon, but it was inspired by God, and his hand was the primary architect, the one with the pencil on some ancient drawing board. The Holy Temple, and its dimensions, could be part of God’s plan.”
“Or man’s plan, at least a fraternity of some of the smartest. Maybe Newton believed there was a common denominator between the ancient writings and the early architecture. What if Newton believed these men, people like Ezekiel, Moses, Daniel, Solomon and others, had hidden their knowledge in a multifaceted code? Maybe some figurative and mathematical language that, if ever interpreted, would reveal a deep secret — a knowledge of how the natural world works in tandem with the spiritual world.”
Jacob grunted. “Perchance Solomon’s Temple and other ancient buildings in the area were set with a divine cornerstone that supports a foundation of God’s love.”
“Yet, the temple was destroyed. Not once, but twice.”
Marcus glanced over at Jacob, who placed his glasses in his shirt pocket and stood straighter, his shoulders round from poor posture. “Maybe it will rise once again.”
Marcus stood. “I can’t work here. Not on this computer. Someone is going to great lengths to watch me. I’d like to know who, and I’d like to know why.”
“I thought our IT department rectified that.”
“They tried, but the hackers are very good. I need to work off site.”
“Where will you go?”
“Don’t know. Someplace where what I’m doing can’t be tracked.”
“Does that place exist?”
THIRTY-FIVE
Marcus left the university in his rental car and drove through Jerusalem en route to the Old City, his mind calculating time zones and the possibility that time references could be a plant, a Trojan, to throw off a potential hacker. He looked at his watch, and made a call to Alicia Quincy’s cell phone. “Has the ceremony at the Lincoln Memorial been cancelled?”
“Not yet. I don’t know that it will be. I spoke with Bill Gray. He didn’t exactly dismiss it, but he didn’t see a lot of weight considering the fact you found it decoding Bible verses. You know Bill. For him, it’s getting measurable, quantifiable data. It’s always about intel information that comes from people and their political agendas, that sort of thing.”
“Is he there now?”
“I’ll check. Paul, what the hell’s going on?
“I ran reverse coding from a hacker. The hacker sent in a Trojan, I baited it, and caught him on the return trip.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what you found.”
“Because of the time reference, I suspect it’s from a geographical source not too far from me. Can you run an IP trace on a secure Internet line?”
“You know that all NSA’s lines are secure.”
“They’re secure from the outside. They’re vulnerable from the inside.”
“Where are you going with this, Paul?”
“If someone here in the Middle East is interested in my research, who is it and why? If it’s someone else, who are they and where are they?”
“Have you found more than what you shared with me?”
“I could be on some kind of wild goose chase. The numbers don’t lie. But, because I’m transferring them from Hebrew to English, I don’t know if the letters and numbers I’m corresponding with are accurate. I don’t know if these jigsaw puzzle pieces left by Isaac Newton and a dozen long-dead prophets are real or…”
“Or what?”
“Part of some bigger picture that may not be measurable by any scale we know. Whatever it is, apparently, this has caught the attention of people who believe I might find something, or that I might reveal some secret.”
“Be careful.”
“I don’t know who I can trust.”
“You can trust me. I have a lot of unused vacation time, and I’ve always wanted to visit the Holy Land. Maybe I can come there and help you with this.”
Marcus said nothing for a moment. He stopped and waited for a group of tourists to cross the street at a traffic light.
“Paul, are you there? Sounds like your phone’s fading. Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you.”
“Did I say something I shouldn’t have said?”
“No, no. I was just thinking…thinking about why I’m over here.”
“You said it was by invitation from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Didn’t you want to prove it isn’t your name in Newton’s notes on the Bible?”
“That’s part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
“It’s complicated. At least I think it is.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not now.” Marcus drove, heading for Jaffa Gate. Out of the passenger window, he watched two black helicopters fly above the Judean Mountains. “I need to go.”
“I understand. But I’m a damn good listener. Since you’re overseas, you may not have seen the article in today’s New York Times. It was about you.”
“What did it say?”
“It’s a story about the Nobel Prizes and how you were the only one MIA, still not officially on the roster to accept the prize. The reporter wrote that she’d tried to contact you for a comment, but friends and neighbors had no idea where you were. I guess it’s hard to vanish off the radar when you’re supposed to be a Nobel Prize laureate. Are you still planning not to accept the prize?”
“That’s the plan.”
“The story went on to say that your absence would be the proverbial fly in the ointment as an embarrassment for the president in his winning the Peace Prize.”
“I’m sure the president will do just fine.”
“You told me something earlier that doesn’t align with your decision.”
“What’s that?”
“You said Isaac Newton wrote that a Paul Marcus is awarded a noble medal for healing.”
Marcus said nothing.
“Is awarded, that seems to mean you not only won it, but you accepted it too. Did Newton know, or see something you haven’t?”
Marcus felt the muscles in his shoulders knot. “Did you find Bill Gray?”
“Hold on, I think he’s in the director’s office.”
“Interrupt them. Put Gray on the damn phone.”
“Paul, I can’t barge in there and tell him you’re demanding to talk with him.”