The Sacred Cipher (44 page)

Twelve heavily armed, antiterrorist commandos swiftly and silently poured through
the entrance in a ballet of brute force. Four peeled right without a word. Four peeled
left, covering every opening. Four flared out in a crescent, dropping to one knee,
across the main visitors’ area and waited for reports. “Clear One . . . Clear Two
. . .” In addition to the tunnel entrance, there were three possible points of exit
from the visitors’ area. Right and left had been cleared. Gefen stood and turned to
his troops. Four fingers, and Gefen pointed his men toward the tunnel entrance in
front of him, and the gate that was closed over it.

He prayed to control his fury. Here on the rooftop, without his prayer rug, he had
gotten down on his knees in the spreading light of dawn and pleaded with Allah for
vengeance on this Prophet’s Guard, Muslims who would kill Muslims. Just as he was
about to do.

It had begun to rain. His once pure white robes, now dirty and caked with mud, no
longer helped project the image of master. But he still had his voice.

“Da’ud.” His most trusted student responded immediately.

“Yes?”

“Leave the demonstration in Famy’s hands. Take two of your best men, your most trustworthy
men. I am about to bestow on you a great honor.”

Rodriguez was running blind until Tom turned the blue light in his direction. It was
another of the little gizmos that Winthrop Larsen had supplied. A blue-light lantern
that would completely illuminate the direction in which it was pointed, but would
give off no light behind. As long as they kept the blue light pointed down the tunnel,
no one behind them could tell they were there. Rodriguez thought it was pretty cool
when he first saw it in operation. Now, it only added to his anxiety, reminding him
that others may, at that moment, be giving chase.

“Keep moving,” said Rodriguez. The other two didn’t need any encouragement. Despite
the weight of their packs, the three men set off at a brisk pace, following the tunnel
deeper into the earth.

The gate was locked, but one of Gefen’s men made fast work of cutting it loose.

A locked gate did nothing to ease their concerns. Anyone could lock a gate from the
inside.

Gefen motioned two men in, entered himself, and had the other two follow.

Using universal sweep techniques, Gefen’s squad moved along the tunnel. Deftly trained,
they moved quickly, confidently. But there was no movement or light ahead of them,
nothing unusual picked up in their night-vision goggles.

Gefen estimated they had advanced several hundred meters when they came to a junction.
The current tunnel continued straight ahead, and a new tunnel opened at a ninety-degree
angle to the right.

The squad converged on Gefen, waiting for orders.

They had passed the first junction without any incident, continuing straight ahead.
But now they could see a second junction, and this one had five spokes breaking off
from the main tunnel. They stopped cold in their tracks.

It only took a moment to decide. Gefen tapped three of his men and pointed to the
right. The other man remained with him, and moved straight ahead. Gefen figured he
was better than any three of his men put together, so one with him was plenty.

He held up a fist, then snapped a finger to the right. The three commandos poured
around the corner without a sound. Immediately, Gefen and his companion sprinted across
the junction and into the tunnel on the far side. One hundred meters into the tunnel,
they skidded to a stop, their weapons at the ready.

“Aleph Center, this is Gefen. Acknowledge.”

“Gefen, this is Major Mordechai. Report.”

“Major, this is one major foul-up.”

For a moment, Mordechai wasn’t sure if it was a joke. Levin, for his part, was about
to rip out Gefen’s adenoids.

“Sergeant Gefen, come again?”

“Major, my squads have got this place covered. There is a main tunnel, and about a
thousand meters in, there is a junction with a second tunnel branching to the right.
We have both tunnels secured.”

Mordechai looked at Levin. Clearly, something was missing.

“Sergeant Gefen, is that your entire report?” asked the major, allowing his increasing
frustration to come clearly through his voice.

“Yes, sir,” said Gefen, “because there is nothing else to report. These tunnels don’t
go anywhere. They just stop . . . a hundred . . . a hundred fifty meters in from the
junction, the tunnels just stop. It’s a dead end. Nobody is going anywhere in here.
And the rest of the place has been swept. It’s clear, it’s all clear. Yes, sir, there
is nothing else to report.”

Bohannon and Rodriguez were sitting cross-legged on the floor, waiting. Earlier, Johnson
had driven a climbing piton into the wall, pulled out a ball of twine, and gone off
to explore each of the five forks. Now, Doc was back, carefully inspecting each of
the five possible portals. It was taking him forever, and they would have long ago
lost their patience. Except for one thing.

There was no noise coming from behind them. No light. No muffled thump of jogging
feet.

Both of them were still perspiring, and neither one of them could resist looking back
up the passageway once every few seconds. Fear was still with them, anxiety was still
with them, adrenalin was still pumping. But the edge was coming off.

“One thing I don’t understand,” said Rodriguez, scratching little designs in the dirt.
“Why did the Israelis make such a big deal out of finding the King’s Garden Tunnel,
when it doesn’t go anywhere? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Perhaps the Office of Antiquities knows something we don’t,” Bohannon answered. “Maybe
there’s more to the King’s Garden Tunnel than is obvious. But I sure am glad we took
the time to check it out before piling in there with all our equipment.”

Bohannon looked back up the tunnel toward the entrance to Zechariah’s Tomb. “You’ve
got to give Kallie some credit,” he said. “She’s a lot more devious than she looks.”

Rodriguez allowed his mind to slip back to yesterday—was it just yesterday? Kallie
had led the team into the King’s Garden Tunnel, but it didn’t take them long to discover
it was a dead end and that Zecheriah’s Tomb was the only remaining possibility for
them to find a way underground. But Kallie’s mind was working overtime. She pointed
out to the men that Israeli security cameras most likely had the entrance to the King’s
Garden Tunnel under surveillance. If they were already on Shin Bet’s radar, someone
would eventually pick them up entering the tunnel. But instead of exiting immediately,
what if they didn’t come back out for hours? Where would Shin Bet look if they finally
disappeared?

Rodriguez shook his head. “That’s probably where Shin Bet’s SWAT teams are at this
very minute, wondering how we managed to evaporate into thin air. Hey, remind me never
to play poker with that woman.”

Rodriguez heard him before he saw him. Doc Johnson came sauntering back to where they
were sitting, a beatific smile stretched across his face.

“My friends, you are so fortunate to have me with you.” With a sweep of his arm, he
bowed gracefully from the waist. “There is such a great value in a fine education,
don’t you think?”

Rodriguez was about to hit him with a rock.

“Follow me,” said Johnson. “Not only can I lead you to Zechariah’s Tomb, but I can
also lead you to the tombs of the Beni Hazir. And from there, I believe we may encounter
our old friend Abiathar.”

Rodriguez looked at Bohannon. “Clearly, the adrenalin rush has gone to his head. He
better recover soon, or he’s in for a big hurt.”

All three strapped on their backpacks. “By the way,” said Johnson, “when we get back,
remind me to congratulate Kallie. She was right. Zechariah’s Tomb is the right way
in.”