After enjoying a wonderful meal, they all decided on gofio de almendras, a rich dessert made with almonds, and then finished off with a round of espresso. It was at that point that the conversation went from pleasantries to the business at hand.
“So Maria, did you have any success with Professor Aguirre from the university in deciphering the parchment you and Samuel discovered?” Eli asked, sipping his espresso.
“Yes, Dr. Turner, he was still working on it after we left for our meeting here, and promised to email the results to me when he was finished. That’s why I brought the laptop. They have Wi-Fi at this restaurant.”
“Well, if anything, I feel we should commence work on protecting the Guanche artifacts immediately to keep the site safe from looters, no matter what the results are from the translation,” Carlos said stroking his goatee. “The equipment, tents, and manpower can easily be transferred from the pyramid site within a day’s time.”
“What about the permits, Carlos?” Turner asked, knowing the excessive waiting periods for archeology permits.
“That won’t be a problem, Josh. I have already received a verbal from the assistant to Tenerife Administrator Fuentes to commence work. He was hesitant when I told him the location
of the find, and he kept repeating something about staying clear of the Japanese research facility nearby.”
“So, the neighbors aren’t friendly I take it?” Turner asked.
“Not friendly at all, Josh,” Carlos said flatly.
“This will be much more exciting than our current project,” Maria said as she opened her laptop.
As the waiter cleared away the last vestiges of dinnerware from the table, she started the computer and opened her email program.
“Great! It looks like Professor Aguirre came through with something,” Maria said excitedly as the download began. Upon completing the download, she opened the document, and proceeded to read with all eyes at the table fixed on her. After a minute, they saw her eyes widen in surprise.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, and then promptly turned the laptop to face Turner, who read aloud the two emails sent by Professor Aguirre.
‘“Maria,
Attached below is the best translation I could procure for you in such a short period of time. This comes from Dr. Rabib of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem to whom I sent an enhanced facsimile of the parchment. Had I known the subject matter of what this document consisted of, I would have been more prudent and not have sent it at all.
If this discovery is valid, it could be a major find, but I fear word will get out quickly due to my carelessness in letting
others read the translation. For that, I deeply apologize. Do not delay in getting the site secure as soon as possible, for I fear looting will be imminent. Contact me if I can be of any further assistance. Good luck, and give my regards to your father.
Alberto Aguirre.”’
Turner looked up at Maria with a quizzical look, and then continued reading.
‘“Dr. Hiram Rabib
To: Professor Aguirre
My Dear Dr. Aguirre,
Please find below the best translation I could make of your facsimile with my staff. Many parts of the document are missing, or illegible, but if this is not a hoax, it is an astounding find.
Translation as follows:
Peace
be
unto you my Brethren
in T
he
ra
.
…
send to you my brother
Simon
, a disciple of our Lord. Safeguard the Cup of the slain Lamb, and His testament.
…
Aide
him
in protecting the Master’s.…
Safe passage to.…
Joseph of Ramleh.”’
“Interesting stuff,” said Samuel, fighting a yawn, “but who in the world is Joseph of Ramleh?”
“If I recall correctly, Ramleh was a town in ancient Judea, but studies now show that the ancient maps of the first century don’t show what it is called today,” Maria stated as she turned the laptop back to face her.
“It’s called…Arimathea.” Turner whispered staring at the candle left burning on the table, “Joseph of Arimathea.”
The table fell silent for what seemed like minutes until Maria broke the spell.
“We must start work right away. The word will be out quickly, and I dare not think what would happen if looters get there before we do,” she said shutting down the computer and closing the lid.
“Do you really think it is possible after centuries of wondering and speculation that we may have stumbled on, by accident, a clue to the whereabouts of the Holy Grail?” Eli asked.
“Many hypotheses have been put out about its whereabouts or who had possession of it, or even if it actually existed at all. But if the carbon dating comes back close to the first century, we may have finally come very close to finding an important clue,” Maria said excitedly. “Imagine, even the remote possibility of verifying the existence of the cup that Jesus Christ reportedly shared with his disciples during the last supper. What a historical discovery that would be!”
“Even if it did exist, Maria, which I truly doubt, what a firestorm it would create,” Turner said. “Could you imagine the
debate as to its authenticity? A theological war of words would rage for years between believers and non-believers.”
“That is not up to us to decide, Josh,” Carlos said rising from his chair. “It’s our duty to bring artifacts to light, no matter what the controversy. I’ll make a few calls and start the transfer of manpower and equipment to the site right away, then see about arranging for some type of security. I would suggest all of you begin packing your field gear, and start as soon as possible.”
“Maria and I can be ready to head up tomorrow,” Eli said.
“Same here,” Turner added.
“Sorry, Josh,” his father said. “I would like you to take the permit applications to the Canary Islands Administrator’s Office in Las Palmas on Grand Canaria Island right away, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Great, Dad. I’m starting to feel more like an errand boy than an archaeologist,” Turner replied in protest. “Alright, I’ll leave first thing in the morning and will hopefully be back in a few days; that’s if I don’t get hung up with the red tape. Last time it took me almost five days to get the permits in order. I’ll take Samuel with me. That way he won’t break anything when you start on the new site.”
“I guess that means my days off are canceled,” Samuel moaned in mock protest. “The things I do for you guys; I‘m so unappreciated.”
“One more thing, Eli,” Carlos said in a serious tone to the elder Turner as they proceeded out of the restaurant and into
the cool night air. “Do me a favor and stay clear of the Japanese satellite facility that Fuentes’ assistant spoke of. There are rumors going around that some of the island people who have gone there have disappeared.”
“Do you actually believe that, Carlos?” Eli asked, as Paulo headed off to get the Land Rover.
“Not really, but you never know about rumors. And one can’t be too careful,” the professor responded. “Just be careful, okay?”
“You worry too much, Carlos,” Turner said as he, Maria and Samuel followed the two professors toward their vehicles. “What could someone want to hide on an old, dried up volcano?”
3
Tokyo, Japan
F
our days after the discovery on Tenerife, a lone American strolled down Tokyo’s bustling Ginza entertainment district. The streets were ablaze with the city’s bright neon lights, and throngs of people out enjoying the Tokyo nightlife. They paid little attention to the pale, slightly balding, five foot seven inch American as he made his way through the crowds, holding on to his briefcase with a vise-like grip.
If these people only knew what was in my possession
, Robert Pencor thought with arrogant amusement as he rounded the corner, then walked up Yomati Street toward the Masari Club.
The Masari was a two-story private club catering to the more affluent residents of Japan. It offered food, drinks, card playing, and, the national craze, Pachinko; a slot machine basically set on end, but a mere third the size, which dropped tiny chrome balls down a vertical maze to the bottom.
Robert Pencor was what one could easily and quickly label as brilliant, yet disturbing. A graduate of Harvard Business School, he had a knack for profit. He quickly
climbed to the pinnacle of success, leaving a trail of broken lives and shattered competitors along his path. His ‘take no prisoners’ business ethic made him feared by most competitors. Pencor’s drive left his personal life devoid of relationships other than the few escorts he paid for when the physical need arose. Some of these women, hardened by a life of prostitution, had left him at the end of an evening utterly shaken and afraid. Adding to these qualities the merciless drive he possessed to achieve power, he had become what colleagues and enemies alike had termed, a textbook megalomaniac.
Pencor had achieved his wealth through shady business dealings and cut-throat tactics early in his career. He had discovered early on that his future lay in the oil business and quickly climbed his way to the top. During his rapid ascent in the business world, he managed to secure many domestic and foreign oil companies by way of hostile takeovers, or strong-arm tactics of which he was not above doing in order to achieve his goals.
By the year 2000, he had risen to CEO of his newly formed Pencor Oil Corporation, which employed thousands of people. He reaped vast profits amounting to millions in assets with worldwide holdings of production and refinement facilities.
None of this was enough for Pencor. He soon began channeling funds from research and development along with employee pension funds to his private accounts overseas. He
had become quite accustomed to the many bribes and kickbacks procured from corrupt foreign business executives and leaders, who continually lined his pockets for exclusive refinery and drilling contracts.
His desire for money, along with the power it wielded, became an all-consuming obsession. Pencor would not settle for just
enough
. He wanted
it all
; at any cost, even if it meant eliminating anyone who got in his way. His cut-throat tactics ultimately gained him many enemies along the way, and those enemies would play a major role in his personal and financial undoing in 2005.
The high oil prices of the mid-decade had produced an outcry from the public. Fueled by the media, politicians tried to appease their base and divert attention from the crisis. They skirted the truth by holding what Pencor deemed ‘useless’ Congressional hearings on Capitol Hill, hoping to inflame the public with the tried and true tactic of crying corporate greed.
Given the recent memory of events in 2002 that led to the downfall of the leadership of Enron, it had garnered good press and a guarantee of votes from a public easily misled. Pencor blamed the public, whom he felt was too quick to believe anything they heard from the media.
Those especially motivated in this witch hunt were the career politicians, Republican and Democrat, who were more concerned about their political tenure than America as a whole. Pencor had been furious knowing that many of these politicians were the same ones taking his contributions.
He knew the real truth that the media had failed to report, and what politicians didn’t want America to know. The worldwide demand for oil was far out stripping the supply. As he had predicted, China now surpassed the U.S. in oil consumption, and the world would never know low oil prices again as they continued to rise to their current level of one hundred twenty-five dollars a barrel.
He also knew career politicians had to appease their base and environmental lobbyists by voting against any new drilling or refineries in the continental United States. This self-imposed ban had been going on in Washington for the last thirty-eight years, which resulted in United States’ domestic oil production becoming almost non-existent.
To complicate matters, politicians over the years continued side-stepping any oil exploration or production in Alaska and the lower forty-eight states, which held more than a thirty-year supply of crude, plus the added benefit of thousands of jobs.
Pencor knew it was a no-win situation for the American people and utter hypocrisy, as both Republicans and Democrats feared rocking the boat because hefty donations continued to flow into their war chests.
Those fools deserve what they get by continually re-electing bigger fools,
he thought as he continued up the narrow sidewalk.
It was during a series of Congressional hearings in 2005 that Robert Pencor found himself subpoenaed to testify. That
was when the opportunity to exact vengeance upon him by the victims of his ruthless past came into play.
A plant in his organization by a competitor had been able to procure documents linking Pencor to kickbacks and pension grabbing. Add to that a few forged documents, they now had a treasure trove of trumped up evidence to hand over to friendly politicians and a salivating media. The vultures circled, waiting for the kill.