A laborer then handed him a heavy-duty flashlight that had the advertised capacity of lighting an area with the same power as 10,000 candles. Yet it was incapable of penetrating deep into the cavern.
“It’s definitely a hollow chamber,” he said. “But it’s not the Chamber.”
With guarded prudence al-Ghazi entered the room with his flashlight scoping the area and the immediate ground in front of him.
Pressing on he noted a glint of light — a spangle of gold — from the corner of his eye before it winked out and disappeared. Adjusting the flashlight to the source of the glitter it cast upon something not quite decipherable in the darkness. Whatever it was lay just beyond the light’s fringe, but a form nonetheless.
As he moved closer the flashlight began to give the artifact shape, contour and clarity. And in an instant he knew he had finally found the true Ark of the Covenant.
He had read all the ancient tablets, texts and scrolls pertaining to the whereabouts of the Ark, as well as the Bible and Quran only to find the locations documented by witnesses who had most likely seen replicas and duplicates. But never was there any mention of a room connected to the main chamber beneath the Temple Mount. And since the room did not exist by historical reference, al-Ghazi concluded that the true Ark was never meant to be found. By the luck of Allah, he found it by serendipity.
The Arab moved closer, the Ark dulled by years of collecting dust, but pure in essence. With his flashlight he moved its beam over the Ark and along its base, noting the skeletal remains of the Ark’s Keepers. For 3000 years the cloth of their robes degenerated, leaving nothing but swatches of fabric awkwardly entwined around bone. And for 3000 years their secret was safe.
Until now, he thought.
Lifting a hand to the Ark, he let his fingers graze softly over the wings of the cherubim figures and smiled. To touch the Ark was certain death, which was chronicled in just about every written piece of document in existence. But here he was, a hand gliding over the actual Ark of the Covenant sensing no heat, no cold, nor a static charge of electricity. It was simply gold and nothing more than a vintage scarecrow that kept the masses in line and their blind faith intact. Or so he believed. Nevertheless, such a treasure would harbor more than just faith and hope. It would soon hold death and darkness.
“Remove the cap,” he ordered.
Four men that looked as if they had mined for days without bathing, their bodies shining with sweat and grime, carefully pushed the cap to one side, then lifted it and gingerly placed the lid on the ground between the skeletal remains of two Keepers.
Inside the Ark lay more treasures.
Lying untouched for three millennia were four items: a gold pot filled with the dust of something having perished over time; the staff belonging to Aaron, the brother of Moses; and two stone tablets written in the language of Adam, the Ten Commandments.
Even though he was a non-believer, al-Ghazi seemed awed by the discovery in what appeared to be reverence.
With a great measure of prudence al-Ghazi lifted one of the tablets, the writing well preserved, and traced his fingers over the engraved words.
“Written by the fingers of God,” he commented softly to no one in particular. And then he returned the tablet to the Ark with the same care of laying a baby within its crib. “We’ll take the tablets,” he added. “But leave the staff and the golden pot as proof to the Israelis that the Ark has been discovered and that we’re in possession of it. And be careful transporting it!”
Bowing their heads in acknowledgment, the miners removed the original poles, which had become brittle and flaked when touched, and replaced them with metal rods.
Within the hour the Ark was removed from the chamber with the staff of Aaron and the golden pot left behind, and loaded onto the back of a canvassed truck more than a mile beyond the Temple Mount.
As the truck carried away the item fully covered in cloth, al-Ghazi got on an untraceable satellite phone and dialed a number locked into its memory. Within three chimes al-Zawahiri answered, once a conduit to Bin Laden, who asked al-Ghazi if Allah smiled down upon him on this day.
Al-Ghazi was as giddy as a child who could hardly contain himself, but forced the issue that he was a soldier and needed to act accordingly, which meant stoically. “By the graces of Allah, we have found the Ark,” he said.
“But is it the true Ark?”
“No doubt,” he returned. “It was right under the noses of the Israelis all the time in an uncharted chamber. By the will of Allah, it was meant to fall into our hands.”
“Good job, Adham. The principals will be pleased now that our efforts have paid off and our patience soon to be rewarded.”
“Just to let you know, my friend, we’re returning to the base with the cargo.”
Al-Zawahiri seemed pleased. “Then I’ll notify the rest of our constituencies and inform them of your success.” he said. “And continue on with the next stage.”
Al-Ghazi took in a breath of the hot desert air and relished it, like something intoxicating, then released it in a very long and soothing sigh. Closing his eyes, he bid al-Zawahiri the blessings of Allah and terminated the call.
CHAPTER TWO
Yitzhak Paled was the head of Mossad’s Lohamah Psichlogit, which was the unit responsible for psychological warfare, propaganda, and deception operations within the Agency. Although a slight man who was thinly built, he was still lean and firm and without any mannerisms other than what he relayed to others: and that he was not to be challenged in any way.
Standing in the second chamber beneath the Temple Mount, several lights erected on poles and cables lit the area brilliantly. Surrounding the center platform where the staff of Aaron and the gold pot lay, were the nine Keepers of the Ark, their bones brown with the coffee-like stains of aged calcium.
Standing next to the platform, while others worked around him, Paled stood with a hand to his chin in deep thought.
There was no doubt in his mind that the Ark in question was the true Ark for the simple fact that neither he, nor the Israeli government, knew of this chamber. Nor had it been recorded in any text.
In fact, the Ark of the Covenant had been beneath them all this time. The Keepers testament to that since the other arks throughout northern Africa had already been established as fakes, phonies or duplicates.
How the Arabs intercepted it was beyond him. More so, Paled was livid that Mossad Intelligence was handed a direct message from the Arabs stating that they were in custody of the Ark, and that the proof lie at the Israeli’s feet. He took it as a slap in the face, a one-up-on-you type of gesture on the part of the Arab world.
But why would the Arab state go so far to secure the Ark in the manner that they did? How could they have possibly known its location?
As the staff of Aaron lay on the platform, there was no doubt in Paled’s mind that Carbon-14 testing on the rod and the bones would prove to be at least 3000 years old, if not older.
Once more he asked: Why?
Contemplating, Paled appeared lost, wondering what the Arabs had in mind. Obviously they had taken the Ark for a specific purpose. But the reason eluded him.
Could it have been for money? he considered. Or perhaps for ransom, in order to fund terrorist groups or activities?
Of course these were the logical ideas that immediately came to mind.
And there was another consideration. The Ark could be used to turn any situation into a hot-button issue between religious denominations who felt entitled to its possession, which would cause tempers to flare if they were so denied.