Bhutan—June
Just as soon as it occurred, Ty began to doubt that it really happened. Maybe it was just time for my fever to break and my sinuses to drain, he thought. Maybe the sleep cured me. Then he remembered what Ashi had done with his father….was he really dead? The vision of it overwhelmed and confused him. He was unable to rationalize it and so he pushed it to the back of his mind.
Energized, he got up and looked around the room as Ashi, still sitting back on her heels, observed him. Although the dzong was ornately carved and painted in the typical style, there were no brokpas, pictures of deities fighting evil spirits, hanging on the walls. With the exception of a few pieces of furniture the room was bare.
Looking out the window, Ty could make out the rows of mountain ranges far across the misted valley, in silhouette against the morning sky, each layer a different shade of purple. The effect made the landscape otherworldly.
He looked at Ashi. “How are you able to speak English?”
“I have English teacher long time ago.”
Ty recalled how the dzong had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “How come nobody in the village knew about or told us about your dzong?”
“We speak little with people in village.”
“Do they know you are here?”
She shrugged. After a moment of silence she added, “We here. Maybe they no see us.”
“You are not like the people in the village.”
“No, my people here for many years. Then other people come.” She gestured toward the valley where the village was located.
Ty was speechless. The people in the village were believed to be descended from the original inhabitants of the area. Ashi was telling him her people were here first. If that was the case they must have been there for over a thousand years. Again he had the sense of mystery. He looked out the window again. The valley was covered in mist, giving the feeling that the dzong was perched up in the sky on top of the clouds. Was the dzong a mirage? Had it magically appeared from the ethers?
****
A searing breeze blew as Ty stepped off the plane onto the tarmac. The air shimmered. The place was unseasonably hot, baking hot, and Ty could already feel sweat forming under his tee shirt. As they stepped out of customs, they met their liaison, who ushered them to a waiting van for the hour-long ride to Jerusalem, saving them from the Nesher, the shared cab system. The group entered the lobby of the King David Hotel. Ty was almost too tired to notice the elegant white columns, black railings of corridors overlooking the lobby, the regal blues, and the overall Mideastern flair in the decoration.
By the time they each went to their respective suites and rooms they were all ravenous, tired and had that dirty feeling that comes from sitting and traveling in the same clothes for hours. When Ty entered his room he set his suitcase down and went immediately to the balcony. The sun was setting on the Old City of Jerusalem. Just beyond the wall, Ty saw the sun glinting off the gold Dome of the Rock, atop the Temple Mount. This was supposedly where King Solomon’s original temple had stood thousands of years earlier, where the Templars dug and found the treasure. Ty felt unexpectedly revived, from merely looking at the majestic sight.
Through the French door leading to the living room, Vincent’s suitcase stood on end, unopened. He was already leafing through papers and setting up his laptop.
Without looking up, he said, “Preston’s going to arrange everything. I’m just going to order room service tonight. I have some work to do.”
Ty knew his father was already immersed in his work, leaving him forgotten. Ty wandered back to the bedroom and unpacked. He grabbed one of the Templar books he brought along and settled back on the bed to read. Ty supposed he was staying in for the night when there was a knock at the door.
Ty heard Vincent in the other room, saying, “What do you guys want?”
“We’re here for the kid,” Oliver said. “The girls are insisting we get him.”
“We’re going out for some dinner,” Cheryl explained. She turned to Oliver and said sharply. “And don’t call me girl.”
Ty entered the living room with the book still in his hand.
“Yeah, you don’t really look like a girl anyway. What was I thinking?” Oliver said with a smile.
Cheryl was short and stocky with strawberry blond hair and freckles. She wore her hair in a layered, nondescript style that looked as if it required no effort so she put no effort into doing it. She only wore makeup on special occasions and then, seemed uncomfortable with it. But, she had a dynamite smile that lit up her face, transforming it from plain to pretty.
“You’re a jerk,” Cheryl said, laughing. “Maybe we’ll take Ty with us and leave you here.”
“Oh, no…not with the professor,” Oliver said with mock alarm.
Vincent looked at him and raised his eyebrows.
“You coming, Ty?” Oliver asked. “Hurry up. Quit reading and get your skinny butt moving. I’m starving.”
“You are very insensitive. I don’t know how I can tolerate having to be on a trip with you,” Cheryl said.
“You love me,” Oliver announced, smiling and holding up his arms to defend himself, if necessary.
Oliver had wild, curly hair that was badly in need of a haircut. His belly bulged through his tan tee shirt and hung over olive green cargo shorts. He even gave the impression of being messy on the few occasions when Ty saw him dressed up.
“Where are you going?” Vincent asked from across the room.
“I hear Zion Square is the place to be,” Oliver said.
Vincent hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Keep your eyes open please. Notice your surroundings,” he said to Ty vaguely.
As they were going down in the elevator, Ty asked, “What’s Zion Square?”
“It’s like the South Street Seaport of Jerusalem, lots of shops and places to eat,” Cheryl explained.
“Your dad is nervous because lots of tourists go there and it’s a perfect target for violence,” Therese added.
The group stepped out on the sidewalk and looked up and down the street, unsure of which way to go. Ty shivered and pulled his sweatshirt over his head.
“I guess we should cab it,” Cheryl said.
As she was talking, Ty noticed a car down the street with two men sitting in it. When the cab pulled away from the hotel, Ty, jammed between Cheryl and Therese, turned around with some effort, just in time to see the car with the two men also pull out into traffic.
“What’s up?” Therese asked.
“Car following us,” Ty said tersely.
Oliver waved his hand. “Coincidence, man. Coincidence.”
The cab drove for about thirty seconds before they arrived in Zion Square.
“That was the shortest cab ride ever. Now we know-- we can probably walk anywhere in this city,” Therese laughed.
The crowd enveloped them and they lost the two men who were following them. There were all kinds of people, young, old couples, soldiers with their dates, many sitting at tables outside in the warm night air. Ty relaxed and supposed his father’s paranoia was rubbing off on him. After they filled up with shwarma, falafel, and French fries they browsed the shops, checking out the souvenirs and tee shirts.
Many shops and restaurants had “beeping machines” standing sentry at the doors. Patrons walked between the poles of the machine, which resembled airport metal detectors, to ensure they weren't carrying weapons. Ty was bored by the shopping but loved the feeling of being in an ancient, exotic place.
Many people seemed to know each other, greeting each other on the street, as if it was a neighborhood hangout. There was music emanating from several shops, and one individual had parked his van and was dancing to the music he had blaring from the open doors.
Therese and Cheryl bought tee shirts, with Oliver looking on, making loud jokes about women and how they loved to shop. His face was animated and he laughed a lot.
During their walk back to the hotel, Ty felt relaxed, sleepy and content. But as they entered the hotel, Ty looked down the street to see the car that had followed them before, pulling into the same spot by the curb. He tried to shake off the sinister feeling but could not.
Upstairs, the remains of Vincent’s steak and salad sat on a tray in the hallway. Vincent was still sitting at the desk where Ty left him earlier. He leaned forward, peering at his laptop. He turned toward the door and sat back when he saw Ty.
“Did you have a good time tonight?”
“Yeah. It’s a strange feeling to be here. There’s so much history.” Ty struggled to put his feelings into words.
“Yes, it strikes awe into me. The strangest thing is to be doing normal, everyday, mundane things in such an inspiring place,” Vincent said.
“That’s exactly how I feel,” Ty replied.
“New York City is a city about money, the latest thing, and hustle-bustle. Jerusalem…well, I’ve heard so much about it throughout my life that it has an unreal, fairy-tale quality.” Vincent laughed. “I half expect to turn the corner and see the twelve apostles.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Ty sat and kicked his sandals off. “Why are you still up anyway?”
“Just doing a little research. I’m texting Richard back home, hoping he has a little info for me. Preston tells me he caught a glimpse of a knight’s name when he previewed the scroll, Phillipe de Charney. Richard is trying to find out whatever he can about him.”
“What did he find out so far?”
“He’s a knight who lived in the 1300s. I have no idea why he would be here at that time. Many of the Knights Templar escaped that initial arrest in 1309. It’s possible he came here, thinking of it as a meeting place for other Templars that escaped.”
Vincent was silent as he mulled the possibilities for a minute. “Whatever the reason, hopefully we’ll get more information about him tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Preston arranged for a guide to bring us to the contact. We have a meeting at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher tomorrow.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a church that was built on the site of Jesus’s crucifixion, burial and resurrection. It’s possibly the biggest tourist attraction in the city.”
“Why would we meet at a tourist attraction?”
“There seems to be something not quite legal about this whole thing. The contact can easily blend in with the crowd there. Maybe he wants to make sure we aren’t followed.”
Vincent’s words made Ty sit up straight. “Dad I think we were followed tonight.” He filled his father in about the two men.
Vincent folded his hands and looked at the floor, his lips making a tight, horizontal line. “No news organizations have tried to contact me so I don’t think the media knows we’re here.” He stood abruptly and turned his back to Ty. “Damn,” he said with anguish in his voice.
“Dad, what’s the big deal. It’s just some treasure seekers, spying on us.”
Vincent shook his head. “You don’t know, Ty…you just don’t know.”
****
The next morning, Ty packed up his cameras and the entire group headed for the meeting place. The main entrance to the church was not impressive. It was walled in on two sides, giving the feeling of being in a courtyard. Three arched windows topped the arches of the single doorway.
Inside, the structure was massive. In the main part of the church there was a smaller, ornate building called the Edicule. This was supposed to be the exact spot where Jesus was buried in the tomb for three days.
Ty was looking up at the dizzying height of the domed roof when he heard Therese at his side say a simple, awestruck, “Oh…”
“Man, this is amazing,” Oliver said.
“Did something finally humble you?” Cheryl asked. “Now I’m amazed.”
Oliver grinned at her. “I’m just amazed that there’s only one door to this whole church.”
“There is?” Therese asked.
“Yup. When the Muslims had control of the holy sites way back in the day, they took very good care of them. They entrusted the key to the door of the church to one family. For almost a thousand years that one family has opened the one door to this church every day.”
Cheryl had a surprised smile on her face. “Sometimes, Oliver, you almost impress me.”
“I'm amazed at how dirty this place is,” Therese said. Everything was dusty and even the oil paintings were covered with soot from the many candles.
Vincent was swiveling his head around. “Can you please pay attention? Do you see anybody tailing us?”
Preston added, “And keep a lookout for our contact.”
“Ty, have you seen those guys again?” Vincent asked.
“Nope. What’s our contact look like?”
“They didn’t tell me. They’ll approach us. Look for someone who is watching us,” Preston said.
There were hordes of people in the church and a long line approaching the Edicule. There was a lot of pushing and shoving going on as priests passed by. Many older ladies, who looked to be Eastern European, threw scarves, necklaces, or rosary beads in front of the priests, hoping to have them blessed. Ty was afraid the group looked conspicuous, just standing in the open, looking around.
A young girl approached Vincent. “Hello, Mr. Scalisi?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes.” Vincent smiled back, unsure whether she was the contact or a fan.
“Hello, a friend of mine sent me to meet you. My name is Aya.”
“They sent a child?” Preston asked, incredulous.
Oliver elbowed Ty in the ribs and said quietly in his ear, “Preston has something against young people.”
“You noticed that too?” Ty retorted in a low tone.
“I am twenty-five,” Aya replied.
She was tiny, with thick curly hair that hung half way to her waist.
“Come, let's go someplace where we can talk privately.”
She led them back out of the church and through narrow, winding streets of the Old City. Tables of fabric, candy or food were set up in front of storefronts to entice customers. The smell of zatar, a mixture of spices, was in the air. Many small shops, the size of a bathroom, stood empty. Soldiers were standing on the tops of the walls to the Old City. The group passed a donkey and Ty was struck by the thought that this part of the city was probably very much the same as it had been two thousand years ago. Ty observed more than a few young kids, pushing green scooter carts. He wondered why they weren't in school.
Therese looked at her bare arms and asked, “I wouldn’t want to offend anyone here by showing too much skin. I wonder if we have enough clothes on.”
“I think you have too many on. Why don’t you take some off?” Oliver smirked.
“You’re disgusting, Oliver,” Cheryl said. “Why did they allow you to come along?”
Preston shot them a venomous look, silencing them with his eyes.
Aya chattered about her family and asked the grad students many questions about their college experience. Ty noted her English was impeccable, with only a trace of an accent.
“Do you go to college?” Ty asked.
Aya’s face clouded for just an instant. “No. I did attend Hebrew University. I was there the day it was bombed.”
It was clear that day was so momentous in her mind that she expected everyone would remember it.
“I never went back,” she added, her smile returning. “But, I had enough education to become an interpreter. I’m Palestinian so I know Arabic. I am also fluent in Hebrew, French, and English.”
She led them to a deserted street that was little more than an alley. In fact, no cars could enter the street because of randomly placed sets of stone steps. Ty glanced behind the group. Was that someone ducking behind a doorway? His eyes met Vincent’s. He had checked behind the group too and was now shaking his head with a worried expression.
Aya opened an aged, wooden door in the stone building and told them, “This is a library. It is my family’s library.”
Ty looked around at the small room, packed with bookshelves. He realized he was so used to the public libraries in the United States that he had never conceived that a family could own a library.
A small, rotund man, with gray hair and glasses on top of his head, emerged from behind a desk, smiling, his hand extended. A lit cigarette sat in an ashtray. Ty caught Therese staring at it and smiled at her. Neither one of them had ever seen anyone smoke in a library before.
He shook Vincent’s hand heartily, saying, “This is an honor, Mr. Scalisi. I am happy to be of service.”
Ty noticed a similarity of facial features between him and Aya. The man smiled at Aya and she disappeared without a word between the stacks and into a back room.
“I am Khaled.” He glanced at the front door of the library. “There is a need for complete discretion in this case.” He led them into the back room, still talking. “The IAA, you know-- The Israel Antiquities Authority. They seem to hear about everything and turn up most unexpectedly. We don’t want that, do we?” Khaled laughed.
He continued. “No, certainly not. Of course you know how easy it is to obtain ancient scrolls. The whole city seems to be full of them. Everyone has an ancient artifact or two in their family. The sale of them is an everyday occurrence. Still, the IAA is always trying to control them, particularly if the sale is to a foreigner.”
“I guess they don’t want precious artifacts to leave the country,” Preston interjected.
“No indeed,” Khaled laughed. “Now let’s talk about what this is worth to you.”
“I don’t exactly know what you are offering. I’d like to see it first,” Vincent countered.
Khaled leaned on a bookcase loaded with artifacts. “I must turn it over to the IAA at some point and when I do, please know that you will lose your opportunity to have access to what it contains. Maybe you might like to have a look at a section of it before you decide? The scroll was found in two parts.”
A small, dim lamp in the corner and a spotlight over the table were the only illumination in the back room. There were books and antiques of every kind stacked in piles on the floor and on shelves that lined the room. Boxes and pottery fragments also covered the table. The remains of Khaled’s lunch were evident in a round metal container. There was still some rice in it and a piece of uneaten bread.
Khaled retrieved a brown, wooden box from under the table, then very carefully unrolled a piece of paper. The scroll fragment had been laid on top of the paper before it was rolled up to keep it intact. It was brown with age, had several gaping holes and was only a corner of a larger piece. He removed it and laid it flat on a piece of wood and moved the spotlight to shine on it. Vincent’s face was unreadable. He looked at the fragment from a few paces away and made no move to come any closer.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, still with no emotion on his face, he announced to Khaled, “I must confer with my colleague,” and motioned for Preston to follow him back into the main room. Ty took a step closer to the door so he could hear.
“What is this, Preston?” Vincent asked in a harsh whisper. He didn’t wait for an answer. “This is bullshit. Why’d you drag me half way across the world to see this?”
“You didn’t even examine it,” came Preston’s cold retort.
“It’s a forgery. If that thing is older than six or seven hundred years old, I’d be amazed. I could see that from across the room.”
“Go back in. You have to read it.”
“That’s another thing I could see from where I was standing…it was written with a modern alphabet. I don’t know what language it is but it certainly isn’t Aramaic.”
“It’s French.”
“French?” Vincent’s voice softened, taking on a hint of interest. “Then we need a French translator.”
“I speak French. Remember? I already saw this sample. Let’s go back in.”
In a moment the two were passing through the red curtain again. Khaled was already placing a magnifying light a few inches from the fragment’s surface.
The two professors bent over it.
“So what does it say?” Vincent asked.
“First, I’d say your guess about its age is correct,” Preston said. “I think it’s about six hundred years old, which puts it in the 1300s, right around the time of the Knights Templar. It’s the bottom edge of a manuscript. What caught my eye is this.” He pointed without touching the precious material.
“Aha. Yes.”
“This,” Preston pointed again, “is a name, Phillipe de Charney.”
“Okay, yes.” Vincent examined it for a few long minutes. “I’d like to see the other part of the scroll.”
Vincent and Khaled haggled back and forth until they agreed on a price. Vincent took his wallet out from an inner pocket of his jacket and the team watched as he pulled out a pile of cash.
“Thank you, sir,” Khaled said genially and pulled out a flat board, containing the other part of the artifact.
When he set it on the desk, Ty could see it was a scroll, yellow in some spots, brown in others, and in some places, almost entirely black. The scroll was in fragments. There was a larger piece in the middle, surrounded by many smaller pieces. The whole artifact was placed under glass, to hold the fragments in some sort of order.
“Beautiful,” Vincent murmured.
“Not bad. Not bad at all,” Preston concurred.
Khaled laid the glass flat on a table in the center of the room and Vincent ran his hands over it.
“Please feel free to photograph,” Khaled said, as he waved his arm over the scroll and smiled at Ty.
Vincent stepped back and Ty stepped up and began to photograph it.
“Where did you find it?” Preston asked.
For the first time since they met him, Khaled’s smile faded from his face. He hesitated.
“I have a friend.” He stopped again for a moment. “A friend in the Palestinian Authority...it is very dangerous…”
The grad students exchanged looks, knowing that it was dangerous for Khaled to be relating this information.
“Some years ago the Palestinian Authority said they were enlarging a mosque under Solomon’s stables.”
Ty, carefully avoiding glare from the glass, was still taking pictures from various angles. He knew Solomon’s stables were vast caverns under the Temple Mount, said to have housed thousands of horses. It was the area that the Templars set up camp and they probably excavated under the stables.
“Many people have noticed that there is much more dirt coming from the area than the amount needed to enlarge the mosque,” Khaled said. “They are digging a tunnel, a very large tunnel, right in the area they think was the Holy of Holies, the spot that was most sacred to the Jewish people, where the Ark of the Covenant was kept.”
“So if this is common knowledge…,” Preston began.
“It is not common knowledge. A religious committee, the Jerusalem Islamic Waqf has administrative control of the surface of the Temple Mount. They control the Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa mosque, but nobody is allowed to excavate. If anyone knew about the tunnel…”
“There’d be an all-out war,” Cheryl said.
“Yes, something like that,” Khaled agreed. “I was fortunate one time to be able to go below the mosque. The stables are huge, arched caverns but even under the stables there are tunnels.
Ty finished and stepped back, nodding to his father.
“Did you use two cameras?” Preston asked. “I don’t want any mistakes.”
Vincent again examined the artifact, touching the glass with his fingertips.
“Again, it’s not Aramaic,” he commented.
“French, like the first fragment,” Preston said.
Vincent looked at Preston. “So what does it say?”
Preston leaned closely over the glass and Khaled handed him a magnifying glass.
“Interesting…yes.” There were long minutes of silence.
“Preston…,” Vincent said impatiently.
“Yes, yes. One minute.”
Finally he stood straight and looked at Vincent. “Here is where Phillipe says he escaped from being arrested.” Preston pointed to the upper part of the fragment.
“So Phillipe himself wrote the scroll?” Vincent asked.
“Yes. One of Phillipe’s own men warned him the day of the arrests. He wanted to warn the others but was too late. He escaped with five others.”
“This part is tricky. I can’t read it. Here he is saying something about going for the treasure.”
“Escaping with the treasure?”
“No…it says for the treasure. A place for treasure…interesting, like he did not have the treasure with him…a place to get treasure,” Vincent mused. “No, they already had it. A place to hide the treasure seems more likely.”
“It seems he left this scroll for any other knights coming this way, as a sort of guide to tell them where he was going.”
“And that was where?” Vincent asked.
Preston moved his index finger from side to side as he searched for the hiding place of the knights. “Presumably they stayed here. No, look here…it says they are going to the Land of the Thunder Dragon.”
“What in thunder is the thunder dragon?” Oliver joked.
“Do we know what a thunder dragon is?” Preston asked. “Is this a dead end?”