Atiq turned and paced back and forth. He looked up at the ceiling. Each time he passed the stone sarcophagus, he let his fingertips trail across the edge of the stone lid. “So many came to Petra,” he whispered, “that we did not know who had taken the sword. We were inattentive to our duties.” He stopped pacing, shook his head, and then turned to face Dane. “On behalf of the Protectors, I must thank you for returning the sword, and alleviating our shame.”
“Well,” Dane said, “we weren’t trying to return the sword. We just wanted some answers.”
“We?” Atiq appeared calm, but his eyes retained their intense stare.
“The daughter of the man who was killed came with us, along with two of my friends. They got away. At least, two of them did.” Inside, Dane still seethed when he thought of Meriwether.
“And have you found the answers you seek?” Atiq sounded as if he were toying with Dane.
“Not all of them,” Dane admitted. “Obviously, it was this ‘Order of the Blades’ that was following us. They killed my friend. But…”
“But you have other questions yet to be answered.”
“Yeah, like who built this place? What is it? What does it have to do with Goliath?” All the confusion he had felt, further clouded by adrenalin and grief came spilling over. “This place isn’t anything! It’s like you made it just to trap people and kill them. But what are you protecting here?”
“To answer your first question, God built this place,” Atiq said, matter-of-factly.
“God,” Dane replied flatly.
“Yahweh, Allah, Jehovah, whatever you wish to call the supreme deity,” Atiq said. “But I can tell by your tone of voice that you will not accept that answer. Consequently, I cannot answer your other questions, as you will not believe those answers either.”
“There is no God,” Dane muttered. He looked Atiq directly in the eye. “If there’s a God who loves us out there, why do people die?”
“We all die, Mr. Maddock,” the old man said with casual indifference. “That is a reality of our mortal existence.”
“I’m not talking about ninety year-olds who die in their beds. I mean young people who have their whole lives ahead of them. A God who loves us wouldn’t let that happen.” He had no idea why he was unloading years of pent-up anger on this strange old man. Atiq, for his part, took it calmly.
“You are obviously a military man. Odd that a man who has been trained to kill has such high expectations for his God in terms of saving lives. When you shoot a man, do you expect your loving God to come down and heal him, so that you may shoot him again and again?”
Dane did not answer. The man was talking nonsense.
“Do your parents love you, Mr. Maddock?” Atiq asked, folding his arms across his chest and sitting down upon the stone coffin.
“My parents were killed in an auto accident. So was my wife,” Dane said bitterly. “But yes, my parents loved me.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” Atiq said simply. For some reason, Dane actually believed that the old man meant it. There was an air of simple sincerity about him that suggested he did not say things he did not mean. “Did these loving parents approve of your choice to take up arms for your nation?”
Dane nodded. “My Dad was career Navy. So, yeah, they were proud of me.” What was the old man getting at?
“But surely, loving parents would not permit their child to do something dangerous. Does a loving parent permit his child to go to school, where the child could contract illness, or possibly be harmed by another child, or even an adult?”
Dane stared at the ground. He did not have an answer for the old man.
“Free will, Mr. Maddock. Your loved ones exercised their free will to operate a motor vehicle, statistically a dangerous undertaking. Just as you made a choice to enlist in the armed forces. Just as you have, no doubt, exercised your free will to take a life, or perhaps more than one in your time.
“Sometimes we use our free will in ways that harm others. That is regrettable. But without free will we are little more than robots.”
“But what about babies who die? What about cancer? Natural disasters?” Dane pressed. “Why is everything so arbitrary?”
Atiq chuckled. His eyes took on a faraway stare. “I once had a discussion with a friend of mine from China.” The man caught the surprised look in Dane’s eye. “I do live in the world. Being a Protector is my calling, but I live and love just as you do.” He paused as this sank in. “At any rate, my friend and I were discussing the ending of a Chinese movie. The character did something that flew in the face of all reason. Even with my friend’s attempts at explanation, I could find neither practical nor symbolic meaning in that character’s choice. He finally grew frustrated, threw up his hands, and said, ‘You simply do not understand the Eastern mind.’” He turned and looked at Dane. “It occurs to me that if I cannot understand the mind of my fellow human being, how can I ever presume to know the mind of God?”
Dane stood in silent contemplation of the old man’s argument. In his bitterness over losing Melissa, he had been so confident in his belief that there was no God. What Atiq said was far from satisfying, but perhaps it could be true.
“God is real,” Atiq said, standing and moving to stand face-to-face with Dane. “This place is the proof. If you have the courage to return the sword to its resting place, you will see that for yourself.” As the old man spoke, another tremor shook the room. Dane staggered back before regaining his balance.
“There were three tunnels coming off of that well shaft. Two of them are blocked. Show me where the third one is before this place comes down on our heads.”
Atiq stared at the gun, his face void of all emotion. “Do you think I am afraid to die?” he asked. “For I am not.” He fixed Dane with an appraising look. “Here are my conditions: put down your weapons, and return the sword to its proper place. Only then will I show you the way out.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Dane said. “These tremors are getting stronger. Take me out of here.” The last, he said slowly, pronouncing each syllable.
“This place has seen worse,” the old man replied. “You have heard my conditions.”
“Why do I have to leave my weapons?” Dane asked, suddenly suspicious. “Your goons waiting outside for me?”
“As long as you are in my company, no harm will come to you. You need to understand faith, Mr. Maddock. Leaving your defenses behind will be the first step.”
Dane looked long and hard at the old man, and read the resolve in his face. He considered shooting the man down on the spot, but quickly dismissed the idea. Atiq had not threatened him. Furthermore, he was the key to getting out of this place. Slowly, he laid the automatic rifle on the floor at his feet. Next, he drew the Walther, popped the magazine out, and removed the unspent bullets. “I’ve had this for a long time,” he explained, holding the pistol up. “I can’t leave it behind.”
Atiq nodded his acceptance, and silently led the way out of the chamber.
CHAPTER 28
Dane followed Atiq down the stairs and into the main chamber, which the old man called the “temple.” Walking to the stream that bisected the room, they followed it down to where it emptied under the wall. The man turned to face him.
“There are metal rungs in the ceiling of this tunnel. You must climb hand-over-hand for about ten meters. Where the rungs end, let go.” Before Dane could ask what he would be dropping down onto, the old man reached into the tunnel, grabbed a handhold, and swung into the darkness.
Dane swallowed a curse. He reached into the tunnel with his right hand and felt along the curved ceiling, cool and slightly damp. His hand found cold iron, and he grabbed hold and swung forward. The faint glow from the temple did little to illumine the blackness of the passageway. He brought his left hand forward, and was surprised to find the next rung right where he needed it to be. Just like the monkey bars, he thought. He found his rhythm with ease born of harsh SEAL training. He moved along so effortlessly that he forgot that the handholds ended, and when after a short distance, his left hand grasped only air, he nearly lost his grip on the last rung.