The Temple Mount Code (43 page)

Horns blared around them, and shouts filled the street. Lourds struggled against his opponent, fueled by adrenaline and his desire to live. The Guardsman snarled curses, promising him God’s vengeance. Lourds twisted hard, forcing the man to drop the gun.

Someone else stepped in close to Lourds as he fought for his life. From the corner of his eye, he watched helplessly as Davari picked up the Book and Scroll. Then the colonel pointed his pistol at Lourds.

Panicked, not knowing what else to do, Lourds released his hold on the Guardsman and scrambled for safety. Before he could do more than turn over, the Guardsman hurled himself on top of Lourds again, taking them both back to the ground. Lourds’s chin struck the cobblestone, splitting open his skin. He felt warm blood flow as his head went sideways.

Pistol shots boomed and rolled. More blood cascaded down Lourds’s neck, and for a frenzied moment he thought it was from his. The Guardsman convulsed above him, though, and Lourds knew Davari had shot his own man in his zeal.

For a moment, Lourds remained still, knowing if he moved, he would be killed. Remaining unmoving, especially with panic racing through him, was almost impossible.

Davari ran, calling to the men that followed him.

Once they had gone, Lourds shoved the dead man off him. For an instant, he stood panting, watching helplessly as Davari got away with the prizes.

Are you going to stand here and let him get away?
Lourds thought about Lev and how his friend had given his life to get the Book and the Scroll into safe hands. He thought of all the risks Alice had undertaken for something she didn’t even know about. He thought about how Davari had killed Professor Namati.

He thought about how Davari had tortured Miriam.

Davari can’t be allowed to take the Book back to Iran
. Lourds took off in pursuit, driving his legs hard and feeling the steady drip of blood coming from his chin. His heart labored in his chest, but his stride lengthened and steadied.

Davari ran across the next street while holding a walkie-talkie to his mouth. Evidently he was trying to put together an alternate exit strategy.

The alley didn’t go through the neighborhood, though; Lourds knew that from all his visits with Lev. They’d walked all over Jerusalem, discussing the various historical and biblical events that had taken place there. Apparently Lourds knew the city much better than Davari did.

Angling away from the alley Davari had gone through, Lourds ran left, toward the next alley. The one Davari was in came around in a big U.

At the mouth of the next alley, Lourds dashed into a small tourist shop. The space was filled with T-shirts and souvenirs. A bin next to the doorway held umbrellas and walking sticks.

‘May I help you?’ A rotund little shopkeeper started from behind the counter.

‘Stay back or you’re going to get hurt.’ Lourds didn’t know if it was his bloody face or hearing the shots on the street that persuaded the man to back away, but he did retreat.

The man also snatched up a cell phone and called the police as he dropped behind the counter.

Tense and shaking, Lourds waited as the running footsteps grew louder. Angling his head, Lourds discovered he could see the alley reflected in the glass door that was propped open outside.

Davari was approaching fast, still talking on the walkie-talkie.

Desperate, Lourds reached into the bin and pulled out a curved walking stick. Turning back to the doorway, he stuck it out, caught Davari around the neck, and yanked the man into the shop as if he were he was hauling in a prize marlin.

Surprised and half-choked, Davari stumbled into the shop and slammed into a display rack of T-shirts, taking everything down with him.

Twisting the walking stick free, Lourds swung it into the face of the first Guardsman who tried to come through the door. The wood shattered upon impact, the Guardsman staggered backward, and Lourds’s hands went temporarily numb.

Confused and coughing, Davari desperately tried to fight free of the clothing rack. He lifted his pistol and pointed it at Lourds.

Moving on instinct, Lourds kicked the man’s gun hand and launched the pistol toward the opposite wall. The gun shattered the window and disappeared into the alley.

Bending down, he gathered up the Book and the Scroll, both of which had spilled across the floor. Lourds ran to the window, hurling himself onto the street as more Guardsmen poured into the room. Bullets chipped the window frame and slammed into the building across the alley. Then Lourds was outside and running for all he was worth.

He dashed down the first alley he came to and followed the twisting path between buildings, trying to figure out some goal, wondering if he had enough gas left in him to outrun his pursuers.

He risked a glance over his shoulder and instantly regretted it. Davari and three men had taken up the chase and were pacing him easily, like a pride of lions stalking an antelope.

Cutting around a corner, Lourds slipped on loose trash from a spilled container behind a restaurant. Spoiled vegetables turned into paste underfoot. He struggled to maintain his balance, couldn’t, and skidded across the rough paving stones, losing skin from his chin, his cheek, and his left hand.

He pushed himself up, grabbed the Scroll he’d dropped, managed to get to one knee, and watched helplessly as Davari and his men appeared out of the alley and pointed their weapons at him.

Then a slender figure in a
burqa
came out of nowhere and flung herself at the last Guardsman. She struck the man at the knees and he went down with a cry of alarm. As he dropped his weapon, Miriam scooped it up and came up on one knee with the pistol in both hands.

She pressed the pistol against the head of the fallen man and pulled the trigger. Blood spattered her face, but she didn’t even flinch as she brought the pistol up. The last two men turned at the unexpected gunshot. Her bullets caught them in the face and dropped them both where they stood.

Davari swung around, dropping into a crouch. Both of them fired at the same time. Miriam held her ground, and for a moment Lourds thought she’d been hit.

Then Davari sprawled forward, head turning so Lourds could see the bullet hole squarely between his staring eyes.

Miriam ran to him, helping him to his feet. ‘You got the Book and the Scroll?’

‘Yeah.’ Lourds held them up, his left hand torn and bloody.

They stepped out into the street, and a black sedan shrieked to a halt in front of them. The doors opened, and men in dark suits and earpieces opened the back doors. Lourds and Miriam looked at each other.

Aaron Jacob, president of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, sat in the backseat. ‘We meet again, Professor Lourds. I’d get in if I were you.’

Pushing Miriam ahead of him, Lourds fell into the back seat and struggled to get his breath back. He looked at Miriam as she stripped off the
burqa
and
hijab.

Jacob smiled at Lourds as the car got under way and held out his hands. ‘I’ll take the Book and Scroll now, please.’

Lourds sighed and handed over both items. ‘Mossad?’

Jacob smiled. ‘I know some people that are. Reputedly.’

‘I don’t suppose I’m going to get to read those items, am I?’

‘You didn’t look at them?’

‘I looked at them enough. No one’s going to be able to prove that Mohammad himself wrote those documents because we don’t have any existing examples of his handwriting, but the message was clear enough to spin the world out of control if it had fallen into the Ayatollah’s hands.’

‘Thank God that didn’t happen. You understand that it would be better if no one ever sees these documents again?’

Lourds nodded. ‘It’s what Lev would have wanted.’

Jacob smiled in relief. ‘I’m glad you see it that way.’ He clapped Lourds on the shoulder.

Lourds winced in pain at the friendly contact, then swiveled his gaze to Miriam, relieved that she wasn’t hurt. ‘I have never had a graduate assistant who helped take work away from me. Especially work that would have impacted the world.’

‘You’ve probably never had a graduate assistant who saved your life before. Especially not as many times as I have these past few days. Starting with that little episode in Namchee Bazaar.’

‘That was you?’

‘Yes.’

Lourds leaned forward to hug her. ‘Thank you.’

She surprised him by turning her face up to be kissed.

When they parted, Lourds looked at her. ‘Maybe after this is over we could meet for dinner?’

‘To renew the friendship?’

‘Whatever you want it to be.’

She looked at him. ‘But it’ll never be any more than what it is.’

Lourds shook his head. ‘I’m a good friend, Miriam, but I’m not good for much more. There’s too much work I want to do, too many things I want to see.’

She took his hand. ‘I understand. And good friends are a rare pleasure.’

‘I’ve always thought so.’

Epilogue

Covert Operations

Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations (Mossad)

Tel Aviv, Republic of Israel

August 18, 2011

‘I appreciate you joining us today, Professor Lourds.’

Leaning back in his chair, Lourds took stock of the old man sitting on the other side of the rectangular table. ‘I wasn’t exactly given a choice. Your agents came to my hotel room and took me.’

‘I’m sure it wasn’t as dramatic as that.’

Lourds rubbed his bruised wrists. ‘Take my word for it. When I told them I wasn’t interested, they handcuffed me and took me into custody.’

‘I’ll have a word with them.’

‘I’m sure that will do all the good in the world.’

The old man grinned and laid his walking stick across his knees as he sat. ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘I don’t suppose it would do any good for me to call the US Embassy and protest.’

‘No. They already know you’re here.’

Lourds grew more irritated but curbed the feeling. ‘Did you bring me here to look at the Koran or the Scroll?’

The old man raised an eyebrow. ‘What Koran? What Scroll?’

Lourds didn’t even bother to reply.

‘I don’t mean to be facetious, Professor Lourds, but I do want to clarify some things.’

Letting out an angry breath, Lourds waited.

‘Under no circumstances will anyone be allowed to see that Koran and Scroll again – even if they did exist, which they most certainly do not.’

‘You can’t just shut those things away.’

‘Of course we can.’

‘Think of the history you’re hiding.’

The old man’s gaze turned wintry. ‘Professor Lourds, history has already taken care of itself. It’s the future we’re protecting now. And I won’t have anyone risking the balance in the world over a document that no one can conclusively prove was written by Mohammad. Even if it existed.’ He paused. ‘Especially not some sensationalism-seeking Harvard linguistics professor that has the libido of a three-balled tomcat. If we hear of such a professor making idle claims about a fictitious document at some later date, Jimmy Hoffa will be easier to find. Do I make myself clear?’

His throat suddenly bone-dry, Lourds nodded and squeaked out, ‘Perfectly.’

‘Then I’ll see to it that you’re returned to your hotel room.’ The old man got to his feet. ‘Enjoy the rest of your stay in Jerusalem, Professor Lourds.’

Givat Shaul Cemetery

Jerusalem, the State of Israel

August 21, 2011

‘Sorry I haven’t been by sooner, old friend, but as you know, you left me quite a bit of work to do when you left this world.’ Hat in hand, Lourds stood at the foot of the recent grave and stared at the simple wooden marker that declared the final resting place of Lev Strauss.

A pile of stones, all deposited by visitors, lay atop the grave. There were a lot of them. Lev was missed by many people.

‘Those of us who know what you’ve done still talk about how you saved the world. I regret that no one’s willing to step forward and let everyone know, but even admitting what was at stake is probably enough to launch an attack from the Ayatollah.’ Lourds smiled. ‘As it turns out, there was an added benefit to having Alice in our camp. Klaus Von Volker left a journal behind that detailed his arms sales. Even as we speak, joint efforts by various intelligence-community strike forces – who shall remain unnamed, of course – are even now dismantling the Ayatollah’s stockpiles of nuclear weapons and shutting down Von Volker’s clients The message is clear.’

Lourds juggled the stone he held in his bandaged palm. ‘I don’t have much more to say, old friend, but I will think of you often. And always with respect and much love.’ Gently, he added his stone to the pile.

Alice stepped up beside Lourds and left a stone as well. Together, hand in hand, they walked back toward the waiting rental car.

‘So what are you going to do, Professor Lourds?’

Lourds shrugged. ‘The dean called to remind me I still have a job to do and that he expects me to get back to it – soon. I’ve got a new class of students waiting. A new book to write. Some more work to do on Scholar’s Rock Temple. A lot to do. And I’m still searching for whatever may remain of the Library of Alexandria.’

‘You still entertain thoughts of finding that?’

Lourds grinned. ‘I seem to have quite a record for finding lost things.’

‘And lost loves?’

Lourds stopped and looked into her eyes. ‘And lost loves.’

‘It’s never going to be what I’d hoped it would be, is it?’

Gently, Lourds smiled. ‘If I stopped doing what I do, could you still love me in the same way?’

She looked at him. ‘No.’

‘Then maybe we should remain friends.’

‘
Good
friends?’

‘
Very good
friends.’

‘Like your new
friend
, Miriam?’

‘Miriam has been drafted to a new assignment.’

‘You never said exactly what it was that she did.’

‘Graduate assistantship.’

‘Really?’ Alice looked surprised. ‘She seemed more like the adventurous type.’