As the Egyptian king led his league of soldiers toward the Temple, the color of the morning sky was no longer red, but blue, with towering pillars of black smoke reaching skyward toward the emerging new-day sun. Jerusalem was burning.
The Temple Mount was exquisite, even by Shishak’s standards who ultimately respected Egyptian architecture. The Temple itself was a massive complex of stone arches and monumental columns. The towering walkways and wide staircases that took worshippers to grand hallways that seemed endless mesmerized Shishak to the point where he felt somewhat remorseful in defeating a city so rich in the complexity of its structure and beauty. At one point he even considered imbibing this architectural culture into his. But then he quickly dismissed the notion, sensing that this culture would only tend to belittle Egyptian sophistication.
Once at the Holy Temple, Shishak remained upon his horse for a long moment before getting off his steed, placed his hands against the door as if to learn the secrets within through osmosis, then gestured for his troops to knock it down.
It took nearly an hour, but the door was destroyed, the wood lying in splintered pieces, the opening giving way to a dark passageway that led to the depths beneath the Temple Mount.
With his torch ablaze, Darius moved toward the darkness with his light piercing little of the descending stairway. “The Chamber lies deep,” he told Shishak. “We’ll need many to carry the treasures, especially the Ark.”
“The Ark is first and foremost,” he said. “Make sure great caution is taken.”
“Aye.”
They descended slowly with several torches lighting the way, the stairs well maintained. Once at the bottom they noticed the dust-laden floor, which seemed odd when the rest of the complex was immaculate, especially for a place of great worship. As they entered the Chamber they were awed by the vastness of wealth, which was far more considerable than they originally thought. Lined against the walls were the Shields of Solomon, a pillager’s dream. And throughout lay conical-shaped mounds of gold coins as well as gems of every size, of every color and shape. Yet they did not appear opulent or bright. The color of gold was instead muted, the shine hindered by heavy dust that continued to eddy in the air.
Shishak moved to the center of the room. The space was empty. “Where is the Ark, Darius? You said it would be in the room’s center.”
Darius made his way beside him. “They moved it,” he said. ”There isn’t an open spot within this whole Chamber, except for this area.”
“If that was so,” said Shishak, “then there would be evidence that something was recently moved, yet the floor remains heavy with dust without a hint that something was ever here at all.” Shishak took a few steps to his left and lifted a golden pot of manna. The ground beneath it was clear of dust, the evidence that the pot was there while dust gathered around its base prominent, his point made. He tossed the pot aside. “It was never here,” he finally said. “Grab everything and make ready for transport. These treasures should be residing in a temple of a true god.”
“Aye.”
“And, Darius?”
“Aye.”
“If one soldier steals a single coin, I want you to execute him on the spot and make an example of him to the others. And especially watch the Sukkites. Mercenaries seem to have a weakness for profit that is not their own.”
“Aye.”
As the treasures were being gathered, Shishak wondered what happened to the Ark, never realizing that it was less than one hundred meters from where he stood.
CHAPTER ONE
Adham al-Ghazi had been searching for the Ark of the Covenant for several years, reading every written piece of work regarding its whereabouts and exploring the true possibility of its existence. He had gone to the Sanctuary Chapel in Saint Mary of Zion's Church in Axum, Ethiopia, only to find the Ark to be a duplicate. He also traveled to Elephantine, Egypt, and to locales throughout the Arab world only to uncover replicas ranging from the poorly fabricated to adequate imitations.
The last remaining location to excavate lay beneath the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, which had been declared by Israeli and Arab factions as their sovereign territory. But in reality it remained a region in limbo since the United States refused to acknowledge the land as strictly Israel’s, even though it remained under their control.
For over a year al-Ghazi had quietly worked his way beneath Jerusalem by stitch-boring a lengthy tunnel. And though the process was quiet, it was still vulnerable to detection. With acquired and detailed notes and possible GPS coordinates acquired from Iranian intelligence, he spent many long nights calculating within certainty the Chamber’s precise location.
Once they had drilled to within one hundred yards of the location, and in fear of alerting the Israelis by the vibrations meted out by the drills, they labored tediously with pickaxes and shovels from that point on, the momentum becoming glacially slow.
However, al-Ghazi’s patience would soon prove to be fruitful.
Day after day and night after night the pickaxes swung. And al-Ghazi watched as his hands never touched an instrument of labor. After all, he was a high-ranking lieutenant with al-Qaeda.
He had been involved with planning several attacks against Israeli and American objectives, as well as anyone associated with either faction. Prior to Bin Laden’s assassination in Pakistan, he had been asked by the former leader to plan out and head the excavation for the Ark. For what reason he didn’t know, nor did he dare ask questions.
The man was tall and lean, wearing clothes that were always immaculately clean and pressed, even within the tunnels where dirt seemed to constantly flow through the air, but somehow repelled by the man who never seemed to get dirty or sweat. His face was thin, his beard meticulously shaped, and his eyes appeared dark and moody and filled with a quiet intensity. However, he was patient to the core, which was a deadly concoction when mixed with a black desire to kill for a cause.
Standing over a table bearing maps and compasses, the air around him cloyingly thick and hot, the chamber beneath the ground in which he stood lit only by a string of bulbs that offered feeble lighting at best, he seemed unaffected as he studied the details of the mapped progress. Lines had been drawn in red, noting that they were nearing the Temple Mount. With the progress using pickaxes, he considered at best another two to three months if they worked around the clock.
The man clenched his jaw, the muscles working. It was the only sign of his impatience, thus far.
A worker, skinny and dirty with the grime of earth, entered the chamber with a pickaxe in hand, his breathing labored. From his point of view al-Ghazi seemed more like a shadow in the dim light. “Commander, we broke through.”
Al-Ghazi raised a brow in reservation. “Impossible,” he said. “We still have thirty meters to go.”
The man nodded. “We found a chamber.”
Al-Ghazi ran a finger over the charts and numbers. There was no way his configuration was incorrect. If there was an adjoining chamber, then it was not within the schematics provided.
“Have you looked inside?” he finally asked.
The laborer nodded. “The light would only penetrate so deep. But the area appears large.” The man bowed his head in homage to al-Ghazi. “We thought it would be better if you entered first, since the glory of the discovery is yours.”
When al-Ghazi passed the man he gave him a pat upon the shoulder. “You considered well, my friend.”
The tunnel leading to the opening in the wall was well bored, the walls rough, but enough space to move freely about without bending at the waist. Once at the passageway, the other laborers gave him a wide berth.