“But when I got back to the safe house we were using, I showed the journal to Craig. What immediately caught his attention, as it had mine, was the rabbi’s description of a network of ancient smuggling tunnels south of Damascus, running under the Golan Heights. According to local legends, the tunnels were dug in the first century BC by local merchants trying to smuggle goods in and out of Palestine without getting hit by Roman taxes. According to the rabbi’s journal, Arab groups were using the tunnels by the late 1920s and early 1930s to smuggle arms and explosives into Palestine to fight the Jews, and as you read through the journal, the rabbi wrote urgent letters to Jewish leaders in Jerusalem, warning them of the old smuggling routes. Then we came to a passage on page 55, in which the rabbi explains that the routes run through territory that used to be home to his great-great-grandparents, an area known to locals as Sechab.”
Erin paused the audio file. Bennett looked at her in disbelief. She’d done it. This was it. This was the clue Mordechai had been talking about.
36
Erin pulled up the PDF file.
She scrolled down to page 55, found the passage to which Donovan referred, and read it aloud, translating from the Arabic.
“Sechab runs right along
the edge of the Syrian border,
near a place some local Arabs
call Tel Shihab.
It’s a sacred place to my family.
My grandfather calls it Kochlit,
and speaks of it with
almost mystical reverence.”
Erin hit Play again. Donovan actually read the passage aloud, and then continued his analysis.
“Dr. Mordechai, I have to tell you, no sooner did I finish reading that than the hair on the back of my neck began standing on end. I knew those names. I’d heard them before. Finally I realized where. After you told me the story of the Copper Scroll, I went back to the States and did as much research as I possibly could, and I remembered line 64: ‘In the tunnel which is in Sechab, to the north of Kochlit, which opens towards the north, and has graves in its entrance: a copy of this text and its explanation and their measurements and the inventory… item by item.’
“Now, as I understand it, scholars long believed the name Sechab referred to plots of land owned by the religious commune that wrote the Dead Sea Scrolls and thus was a place where the group could easily have hidden the Temple treasures without attracting undue attention. Some said the plots were in the Qumran area, where the other scrolls were found. Others said it had to be farther north, perhaps near Tiberias. But the truth is, no one was ever sure where Sechab was. In my research, though, I found a quote by Father Bargil Pixner. As you no doubt recall, Pixner was a member of the original team of archeologists from L’Ecole Biblique and the American School of Oriental Research who discovered the Copper Scroll, and he said, and I quote:
“‘They [the Essenes] had treasures hidden away and I think that those [hiding] places are the ones mentioned in the Copper Scroll. [I have deduced that] they must have owned these areas in order to have had access to them [to hide the treasures]. These hiding places were called Kochlit, monastic centers of the community. One Kochlit was in Qumran itself, although it was not called Qumran since this is an Arabic word, but was called Saccacah, a place mentioned in the Bible. A second [Kochlit] was on Mount Zion, and a third one, in my opinion, was in an area of the Yarmuk River, south of Damascus.’
“On the map on page 60 of the journal,” Donovan continued, “you’ll see the Sea of Galilee on the west, the Golan Heights dead center, and the Yarmuk River to the east, running down the mountains and through a place called Wadi Shihab. The river, as you can see, supposedly leads to a waterfall, which lies just to the north of Tel Shihab.”
“Stop the tape,” Bennett said.
Erin did. “What is it?” she asked.
“Scroll through the PDF file a bit farther,” he said. “I want to find that map.”
Sure enough, on page 60, she found the map drawn by the rabbi. She started the recording again.
“To be honest, Craig and I couldn’t resist the temptation to verify the map. So under the guise of needing more intel for our project with the Kurds — Operation November Thunder — we requested updated, high-resolution satellite photography of the Golan Heights and the Yarmuk River. Sure enough, using thermal imaging, we could clearly see traces of a tunnel running from a cave on the Israeli side of the Golan, through the mountain, across the demilitarized zone, and winding up in a cave at the base of the waterfall. The opening of the cave is not that far from a forward Syrian monitoring post, but since the cave itself is inside the DMZ, we doubt it’s ever been explored by the Syrians, much less the Israelis.
“Now here’s my point, Dr. Mordechai — I am absolutely convinced the Key Scroll is hidden at the end of that tunnel. So is Craig. We know the CIA would never let us explore it. The whole place is guarded by barbed wire, land mines, and impressive electronic surveillance, not to mention ten thousand crack Syrian troops, all on a hair trigger to go to war with the Israelis on a moment’s notice. One wrong move and kaboom! But we can’t help it. We’re going to find a way into that tunnel, even if it kills us.
“Which obviously it has. Craig and I are dead now. That’s the only reason you’re hearing this tape and reading this journal. Perhaps we died in the tunnels. Perhaps someone found out what we were up to and tried to stop us. Perhaps the Israelis or the Syrians captured us along the way and we’ve died in prison or by firing squad. It doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that someone finds the treasure. I believe it should be you. All the best. Maybe I will see you on the other side.”
And with that, the audio file came to an end.
Bennett was stunned. So was Erin.
“No wonder Mordechai was so sure he was on the verge of a major breakthrough,” she said. “He was.”
“He was,” Bennett echoed, staring at the computer monitor and wondering if Barak had heard this. Had the others? Had they read the journal as well?
“Did you know these guys?” he asked instead.
“Who, Harkin and Donovan?” said Erin.
“Right.”
“No, not personally. But I’d heard of them — rumors really. People said they went rogue. As far as I know, the Agency never did find their bodies. They just listed them as missing and presumed dead. But there was always something a bit fishy about it. I’m not sure if their files were ever formally closed.”
“What about this brother?” said Bennett. “Do a search. If we can find him, we might be able to learn more.”
Erin swiveled back around in her chair and typed the name Kenneth J. Donovan into a news search engine and hit Enter. A second later, a headline popped up from the Rocky Mountain News: “Local Man Commits Suicide on Thanksgiving.”
Bennett shook his head. That had been just weeks after the firestorm. Everywhere they turned, the death toll kept rising. He got up and paced the room.
“What are you thinking?” asked Erin.
“I’m thinking we may not be the only people who have this journal,” he replied, the anxiety showing on his face. “If we are, it won’t be for long. The original is still out there somewhere. Who knows who got ahold of it after Donovan committed suicide?”
“If it really was a suicide,” Erin noted.
“You think he might have been murdered?”
“It would certainly fit with everything else we’ve found.”