The other Arab, who wore a long, straggly beard, quickly shed his AK-74, but the wounded man didn’t move. He stared at Dirk with hatred in his eyes. Then suddenly his face softened, and he gritted his teeth in a defiant smirk as his gaze shifted past Dirk’s shoulder.
“I’m afraid it is you who shall throw down your weapons,” came a hardened female voice from the darkness. “Place your hands in the air where I can see them.”
Dirk turned toward the voice to find a short-haired woman standing directly behind Sophie with a pistol pointed to the back of her skull. He saw she was dressed in dark, casual clothes, but had her own night vision goggles perched on her forehead. Dirk felt another presence, and he craned his neck slightly to see the shadow of another man in the darkness with a raised gun aimed at his own head.
Sophie gave him an apologetic look as she lowered her Tavor to the ground. With little choice, Dirk smiled innocently at the Turkish woman, then gently tossed his pistol onto a nearby grave.
46
Dirk and Sophie were marched at gunpoint up the side of the hill and into the narrow passageway. Like the Arab terrorists that followed them, they were startled at the sight of the huge quarry that awaited on the other side, now illuminated by the pale glow of several lanterns. Sophie had visited Zedekiah’s Cave on several occasions and was astonished to find another, equally expansive quarry situated beneath the Temple Mount. Her awe turned to fear when she spotted the bloodstained body of al-Khatib lying facedown beside one of the lanterns. Her fear was only enhanced at her recognition of the Arab terrorist leader.
“The tall one… he led the attack at Caesarea,” she whispered to Dirk.
Dirk nodded, already aware that the well-armed contingent was after something more important than an old grave or two. The Janissary prodded them to a low stone ledge, where they took a seat, under gunpoint, near the dead Palestinian. Maria ignored them as she gathered the heavy backpacks from the three Arabs.
“This is the entire quantity?” she asked Zakkar.
“Yes, all twenty-five kilos are there, with fuzes and detonators,” the Arab replied. He gazed up at the high ceiling. “Do you aim to blow up the Dome of the Rock?”
Maria looked at him coldly. “Yes, and the al-Aqsa Mosque. Do you have a problem with that?”
The Arab shook his head. “You will cause great anger in our lands. But perhaps it will result in the greater good of Allah.”
“There will be a greater good,” Maria replied sharply.
She knelt down and quickly inventoried the explosives, then rose to her feet. Noticing Sophie and Dirk observing her movements, her face quickly soured.
“You nearly exposed our mission,” she hissed at Zakkar.
The Arab shook his head. “They are archaeological police looking for grave looters,” he said without acknowledging his own recognition of Sophie and Dirk. “It was a random surveillance. Why don’t we just kill them now?” he asked, tilting his head in their direction
“Israeli archaeologists, you say?” Maria mulled her own words over. “No, we shall not kill them. They shall die ‘accidentally’ in the blast,” she said with a wicked grin. “They will make the perfect scapegoats.”
She waved for the Janissary to approach, then turned again to Zakkar.
“Have your two men stand guard,” she said, glancing at her watch. “It is time we set the explosives, which I wish to detonate at one o’clock.”
She picked up a lantern as the Janissary hoisted up two of the backpacks. Zakkar addressed his two men, then picked up the other pack and a lantern and followed Maria as she disappeared down one of the passageways.
“Destruction of the Dome will unleash a horrific wave of bloodshed,” Sophie whispered to Dirk.
“Silence!” barked the bearded Arab, briefly waving his gun in Sophie’s direction.
His partner, the wounded man named Akais, sat on a nearby rock, cradling his arm. The gunshot had missed any major arteries, and he had stemmed the flow of blood with his keffiyeh, now wrapped tightly around his arm. Though he had walked easily up the hill and into the quarry under his own power, he was now suffering a moderate degree of shock from loss of blood. At times he would glare at Dirk with rage, then his eyes would glaze over into a thousand-mile stare.
Dirk methodically surveyed the quarry, searching for a means of escape that wouldn’t garner a bullet in the back. But there appeared to be few avenues. Staring at the dead Palestinian for a few moments, he took note of the two remaining lanterns. One was lying on the floor near the dead man, some ten feet from his own position. The bearded gunman slowly circled the other lamp, perched on a stone across the cavern.
Dirk caught Sophie’s attention and casually motioned toward the bearded guard. Then he rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, whispering beneath it.
“The lantern… can you turn it off?”
Sophie eyed the lamp and the adjacent guard, then nodded faintly with a determined glare. She then carefully scanned the walls of the cavern, examining every cut and chisel mark that she could make out in the dim light. On a wall beyond the guard, she found what she was looking for, an irregular mark from which to build a story.
She stared at the spot with rapt fascination until the guard caught her gaze and turned to see what she was looking at. Keeping her eyes locked on the wall, she gently rose to her feet and took a step forward.
“Do not move,” the Arab hissed, turning back toward her.
Sophie tried her best to ignore him without getting shot.
“This quarry is two thousand years old, directly beneath the Dome of the Rock,” she murmured. “I think I see a sign of the Prophet over there.”
The guard looked suspiciously at her, then at Dirk. The NUMA engineer gave him the best clueless and uninterested look he could muster. Grabbing the lantern, the Arab backed slowly to the wall, keeping his assault rifle leveled on the pair. Reaching the wall, he took several hasty glances at the carved limestone. A pair of parallel gouges ran lightly across the surface at eye level while a faded mark in charcoal was visible between the cuts. The gunman looked at the mark blankly, then focused on Sophie.
“Yes, that’s it,” she said, taking another tentative step forward. When the gunman didn’t react, she continued walking toward him at a cautious pace.
“Any tricks, and your friend dies first,” the Arab spat, keeping his gun aimed at Dirk. He then turned and yelled at his companion.
“Hassan, stay alert.”
The wounded gunman responded by sluggishly nodding his head.
“Now, show me,” the gunman continued, speaking to Sophie while backing away from the wall.
Sophie crept to the wall and placed a hand on the surface near the cuts and marking. She had seen similar cuts in the walls of Zedekiah’s Cave and knew they were nothing more than the preliminary markings for a limestone slab that for some reason was never cut by the quarrymen. The faded charcoal was likely a numerical marking or placeholder for the unused stone. Yet she played it for much more.
“Like his footprint in the Dome’s sacred rock above, I believe this may be an indication of Muhammad’s departure on the Night Journey,” she said, referring to the visit to heaven atop a winged steed. “I can’t quite make it out under the light, though. May I borrow the lantern?”
She never looked at the guard, instead pretending to be engrossed in the wall carving as she extended a hand out toward him. He reacted instinctively, tentatively passing the lantern while also shifting the muzzle of his rifle in her direction. Grabbing the lantern, Sophie held it up to the wall, her eyes still glued to the charcoal marking.
“See this here,” she said quietly, pointing her free hand at the rock. She then casually let her hand slip to the base of the lantern, where her fingers groped for the power switch. Finding it with her index finger, she clicked the lamp off and froze.