The Sacred Cipher (62 page)

“True,” said Krupp pensively, appearing to agree with Rodriguez’s assessment. “But
the animal activists will not be the greatest threat to gaining agreement between
the Jews and the Arabs. In the middle of any turmoil caused by the secular Jews, the
question of a high priest will come up. The Atteret Cohanim Yeshiva in the Old City
will undoubtedly claim exclusive rights to choose the high priest for the Temple,
Maimonides’ rules for the priesthood will reemerge, and a million rabbis will probably
spout two million opinions about what should be done with the Temple, who should do
it, and when it should happen.

“In short,” Krupp said wistfully, “uncovering a temple will probably result in a period
of chaos among the Israelis, not to mention the possibility of being on the brink
of a world war with the Muslim world. So presenting the possibility for a peace treaty
might not only be a welcome diversion, but could also settle on fertile soil.”

Krupp shifted on his chair, leaned forward, and settled his elbows on his knees.

“I know, personally, all of the major players in the Middle East. And they, personally,
are all indebted to me. Our firm has bailed out each and every one of them at one
time or another. I’ve bailed them out myself. If anybody can get these hardheaded,
prideful, determined leaders to even consider sitting down and talking about peace,
I believe I have the influence to see that accomplished. All of them need Krupp Industries;
none of them can afford to be on our bad side. So they will listen. Whether they commit
or not, well, that is in God’s hands. But they will listen.

“My question,” he said, searching each of their faces, “is whether you will give me
permission to make those calls.”

He paused for a moment. Krupp knew that even he didn’t understand all the possible
ramifications of this discovery.

“Once I make these calls, the genie is out of the lamp. There will be no going back.
This discovery of yours will take on a life of its own. None of us,” Krupp said emphatically,
“can predict where that life will lead. It may lead to peace. It may lead to a nuclear
conflict that would annihilate the nations of the Middle East. It may lead to a consequence
that we have not even considered. As you’ve said, there is already more than one group
that has attempted to stop you. So we will be at risk, each of us and millions of
other innocents in and around Israel.”

Krupp could feel the knot in his stomach tightening. “So the question is, do we really
want to do this? Do we have any idea what we are getting ourselves into? Are we okay
with the possible consequences?” he asked staring each man in the eyes.

Johnson turned in his chair to the right of Krupp and looked at Bohannon for a long
moment. Krupp watched as Johnson then turned to Rodriguez, caught his gaze, and held
it silently. Then, he turned back to Krupp. “Herr Krupp, we left one of our friends
in a coffin back in the United States because he believed this quest was worth the
risk. Another, Sammy Rizzo, was severely wounded a few nights ago in an ambush aimed
to take our lives. We still don’t know what happened to Sammy and Kallie Nolan. Kallie
may be forced to leave her home, her job, and her dreams because she helped us. Frankly,
I don’t believe it will be possible for the existence of a temple to be kept secret.
But even if it was, what other choice do we have at this point except to make public
our findings? Too great a price has been paid to find the Temple, to keep it a secret
now. Besides, what other chance is there for peace in the Middle East? The Israeli-Arab
confrontation will inevitably explode, and when it does, it will take millions of
lives with it. At least now, with the Temple, there is a chance for peace. A chance
that everything we know about life in the Levant could change in an instant, hopefully
for the better.” Johnson again swept his gaze across the faces of his friends. In
all of them, Krupp saw both undeniable grief and incredible hope. His heart stalled,
mourned, and hoped with them.

“We have all agreed to see this through to the end,” said Johnson. “We’re not there
yet, so there are more steps to be taken. Please, make the calls. And then we can
all hope in Tom’s faith that God is in control. Because, now, we will need that divine
intervention you told me about, Tom.”

Krupp set his jaw and nodded his head. This was the moment.

“Guys,” Bohannon said softly, “would you mind if I said a prayer?”

In the silence and the shade of the terrace, Krupp joined the others. He bowed his
head, opened his heart, and waited to see if God would show up.

Using all of his billion-dollar clout, Krupp was immediately on the telephone across
the secure lines he used for his most sensitive communications, speaking with the
prime minister of Israel. Krupp proposed a secret meeting in Switzerland, to convene
in no less than seven days, bringing the key Arab and Israeli decision-makers together
in one room. His enticement was that they could, possibly, walk out of the meeting
with a secure and lasting peace for the Middle East.

“Mr. Prime Minister, I know there is an inherent danger in this,” said Krupp. “I admit
I could be wrong. But at the same time, I am also convinced that this may be our best
hope, our last hope, to discover what has been impossible to discover for generations.
A road not only to peace, but also to peaceful coexistence for Jew and Arab in Jerusalem,
in Israel, in Palestine. Eliazar, this could be your moment to change history. For
your children, Eliazar, for all our children, come to Switzerland.”

Krupp could nearly touch the tension and fear on the other end of the line.

“You may be asking for the impossible, Mr. Krupp. I’m sure you understand the dangerous
implications of what you are proposing. If you gave them a choice, half of Israel
would vote against a temple. And you really think there is a possibility the Arabs
won’t respond even more emphatically? This is foolishness. Alexander, you cannot ask
me to make this decision.”

“Mr. Prime Minister, with all due respect, this is a decision you cannot avoid,” Krupp
pleaded. “These men told me the Arabs were also pursuing them. Why would that be,
except to keep this discovery from becoming public? They know. At least two Arab groups
out there know what these men were seeking and that it’s possible they found. How
can any of us keep the existence of the Temple a secret? In today’s world? Where everyone
appears to have their own blog up and running on the Internet? No, my friend, this
is not a time to dwell on our concerns; it’s a time for practical politics and unprecedented
diplomacy. We have the chance for peace. Something none of us ever expected. Eliazar,
you and I have admitted that we both feared the endgame with the Arabs was inevitable.
Well, perhaps we will face it sooner than we expected. But, Mr. Prime Minister, we
must allow ourselves to take a step for peace, when peace is possible. Peace is worth
a risk, is it not?”

As Krupp gauged the responding silence, he felt the eyes, and the hopes, of Bohannon,
Rodriguez, and Johnson on the back of his neck, but he dared not turn to meet their
fear.

“Alexander, you must do two things before I can give you an answer. First, you must
provide me evidence that what you say is true. Forgive me, my friend. It’s not that
I doubt your honesty or your sincerity. But I would be a fool to move forward with
this request of yours unless I had conclusive proof in my hands that this Temple exists.
How you get that proof to me, I don’t know. But nothing will happen without it. Secondly,
if we receive such proof, I must require you to keep this conversation confidential
for the time being. I imagine you were prepared to make additional calls to our neighbors
to enlist their participation, correct?”

“Yes,” said Krupp, “I already prepared lines to contact King Parvez in Jordan and
President Ghasaan in Egypt.”

“You must not, you must promise me that, Alexander,” said Baruk. “I must consult my
cabinet and my military leaders. I can’t take this step alone. That would be political
suicide. You know that. We must have at least twelve hours of silence once we receive
your evidence. I have no other choice. These two things I must demand.”

Krupp was faced with an impasse. Refuse the prime minister’s demands and this whole
thing would blow up. He would not only alienate the Israelis, but he could also give
them an excuse for considering a preemptive, first strike against the Arab states—get
in the first punch if it was going to come to a nuclear punching match. In spite of
the warm sunshine flooding into the room, he shuddered.

“Yes, Mr. Prime Minister, I agree,” said Krupp. “We will transmit to you, electronically,
as much of the existing evidence as we possibly can. Once we’ve received confirmation
that you received the evidence, we’ll just hunker down until we hear from you. And,
Eliazar . . .”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. Thank you, Eliazar.”

“Farewell, Alexander.”

It took an hour to decide what they needed to send to the prime minister and how they
were going to transmit it. With technological skill and dexterity, Rodriguez took
point on the assembly and transmission of the material, just enough to conclusively
prove the accuracy and validity of their discovery—photos, sections of the video with
the GPS units, the voice transmission from Sam Reynolds.

Then they waited.

Baruk pushed the button, ending the conference call, and looked around the table at
his closest advisors.

No one blinked.

“Lukas, now you know where they are,” said the prime minister, endorsing the blank
check he had presented to the Mossad chief not that long ago. “How long before you
can have mission planning complete and a force in the air?”

“Our teams have been ready to go since your first orders,” replied Painter. “All we
need to know is where and when you would like us to intercept them.”

“Intercept?” Baruk physically recoiled in his chair. “No, let me be more precise,
Mr. Director. How long before you have wheels up for an operation into Germany? You
have eleven hours and fifty-seven minutes to silence these men, however that may be
necessary, and to recover all of their evidence. How soon will you be airborne?”

Baruk liked Lukas Painter, very much. Lukas was a no-nonsense man who got things done.
A man in whom Baruk could put his trust.

“We’ll be off the ground within the hour,” Painter said. “Mission planning will be
completed while we’re in the air. We will send two Gulfstreams, private, no markings,
across the Mediterranean and come in from the west to Calvi, in Corsica. Businessmen,
en route to Munich. We will refuel in Calvi and do a HALO drop along the border of
Austria and Germany, somewhere in the vicinity of Fussen.” Painter pursed his lip,
glanced at the ceiling, then looked at his watch. “We will be on the ground, and on
the move, in Germany by eighteen hundred hours, seven hours from now. By twenty hundred
hours, the information should be in our possession.”

Baruk cast a withering look at Painter. “By twenty hundred hours the information
must
be in your hands. There is no alternative.”

“Yes, sir,” said Lukas Painter, who was out of his seat and out the door before his
voice faded from the room.

“Chaim,” Baruk said to his chief of staff, “I know it is very early in Washington,
but please see if you can reach Jonathan Whitestone. I would very much like to speak
to the American president.”

Krupp led Bohannon down the steps from the terrace, along the outskirts of the swimming
pool compound, and out into the gardens, a carefully sculpted riot of color stretching
for hundreds of yards. They turned a corner at the end of a hedge more than six feet
tall. Behind the hedge was a hothouse—half glass-domed nursery, half gardener’s workplace.
Krupp entered the potter’s shed, Bohannon in tow, and pointed to a rack of work clothes
and overalls. “Better to make yourself comfortable. We’re going to get dirty.”