The Prophet Conspiracy (15 page)
Read The Prophet Conspiracy Online
Authors: Bowen Greenwood
The timer read 22 seconds.
“I watched her!” Kendrick panted. He went to the wall where the wires went from plastic explosive to battery to timer. Without a second’s hesitation, he pulled a striped white and green wire free from the amorphous blob of gray clay.
Once that was done, he pulled every other wire loose and threw them to the side. The lights on the timer faded to black once the connection to the battery was gone.
Panting, Kendrick collapsed against the stone wall, heedless of the fact he was resting on a thousand-year-old artifact.
“How did you do that?” Cam asked. “I’ve known Maya for years and even in exercises I could never figure out her bombs.”
Kendrick was still too out of breath to speak. The answer came from Siobhan instead.
“I told you, Cam. He’s got a photographic memory. When he said he watched them set the bomb…”
Cam made a thoughtful face and nodded. Segal walked back over to look at the dead timer.
“I never would have believed it,” he said.
Kendrick still leaned against the ancient stone wall. Very gradually, his breathing returned to normal. When it did, he fixed his eyes on Siobhan.
“I’m sorry,” he got out between pants. “I’m so sorry.”
She knelt down beside him and held his hand.
They stood beside the pool of Siloam as the sun of the Mediterranean climate gave everything a golden glow. The tan buildings of old Jerusalem shone in the light, and tourists and passers-by, while still being kept out of the tunnel, were now allowed much closer. They gawked.
Eli Segal was gripping one of Maya Godwin’s arms tightly as the latter spoke to some of the plain clothes Shin Bet agents there. Her head hung low and at least one of the agents had his hand resting on the grip of his holstered pistol. Cam explained to Siobhan this was more than the end of her career. Godwin would go to prison.
Other agents — as well as a collection of soldiers — already had Haaris Toma cuffed and surrounded by a circle of firearms.
Kendrick had given her the translation as they walked out through the tunnel. It was everything she had ever imagined. She spoke the words aloud, as if to confirm them by hearing them again.
“In Muhammad’s dream, the steed Buraq carried him here and in that dream he ascended to paradise. He told me himself. He named this place and described it perfectly. I heard it, and I recorded it.”
“I wonder if it really will lead to war,” Cam mused. “There are some people in Israel who will want to destroy the Dome of the Rock and replace it with a new temple when they hear. And there are more than a few Arabs who will want war at the very mention of those words.”
Siobhan replied, “I don’t know much about politics, but something your friend Ibrahim said stuck with me.”
She saw Cam wipe his eyes at the mention of the man’s name.
“It’s not geography that makes a place holy. It’s people. Fifteen hundred years’ worth of people have been making a pilgrimage to that shrine. Does it really matter if history got the place wrong?”
“You’ll find many in Israel and in all the Muslim countries of the world who disagree with you.”
Siobhan shrugged.
“Probably. But after all of this, I’ve developed some faith in truth telling. You said something, when we left Jerusalem. ‘Both Jews and Muslims have both good people and bad. If the inscription says what we think, then we want the good people to be in control.’ I’ve thought about it since then. If you want the good people to be in control, you have to lay a foundation that helps good people. That starts with telling the truth. The inscription may offend some people, but it’s the truth. You can’t have good people in power if you start by hiding the truth.”
Cam remained silent for a while, wondering if she was right.
Finally he asked, “Do you think Kendrick is going to keep his word?”
“I hope so. Either way, I’m glad I helped him up.”
“So you think this will clear up your old misunderstanding? Will you go back and finish your master’s degree now?”
Siobhan smiled at him.
“Maybe. Hebrew University in Jerusalem has a pretty good archeology program.”
Cam let her answer hang in the air, offering neither encouragement nor contradiction. She wanted him to say something, one way or the other, but no words came out.
After waiting silently for a couple minutes, Siobhan reached into her back pocket. She drew out the small, shining, metal case that held her old adjudication letter. Wordlessly, she ripped the paper up one piece at a time and threw the shreds to the wind.
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Thank you God, thank you Steph, thank you Mom and Jane. Thank you Sherrie Dolby-Arnoldy for your consistently excellent editing. If you are a writer, you should hire Sherrie.
I want to say a huge thank you to Lee Glassman, who guided me through Israel. There is no better guide you can get if you visit the Holy Land. If I got anything right about that wonderful country, it was his doing. If anything is wrong, I did that myself.
And a big thank you to everyone who toured Israel with me. You all were a fundamental part of my love of the country. A special thanks to Jeff Laszloffy, who organized the tour.
I have a wealth of beta readers, who read these books and help me catch errors. The list is very long, but I want each one of them to know that their work is appreciated.
A particular word of thanks goes to Sandra D, who put in a ton of editing and beta reading help on my last novel and accidentally went unthanked at the time.
Not least, not by a long shot, thank you. You, the one with your eye fixed on the page. The fact that I get to actually write books and have people buy them and read them is a blessing beyond measure, and it wouldn’t be possible without you and your fellow readers. I am grateful to you for reading.
Bowen