The Resurrection File (37 page)

“Where's that church located?” Will asked.

“Tennessee.”

“What was the name of the church?”

“Church of the Golden Road. I believe that was the name.”

Now it was clear. And Will could only smile and shake his head. Brother Billy Joe Highlighter and his congregation were now supporting the work of Will Chambers.

“So, you have a church behind you now. That would make you a missionary of a rather strange sort, wouldn't it?” MacCameron noted with a gleam in his eye. “But if you are a missionary, then you had better know what your message is, right? So, barrister Will Chambers, what is your message? Exactly what do you believe?”

As Will thoughtfully chewed his pot roast at the humble table of his client, he knew that he did not have an answer to that question—not yet. But he also felt, just as certainly, that he was destined to discover it. Not just an answer to the mysteries of the legal case he was handling—but something even larger. He felt the powerful pull to some kind of unknown doorway. And he somehow knew that when he dared to open that door, it would lead him to something bigger than all of the battles he had ever fought. Bigger than his pursuit of justice. Bigger even than the dreams that were dashed, and the love he had lost, and the home that lay in ashes. Bigger even, perhaps, than life itself.

44

W
ILL WAS ON THE LINE WITH
J-Fox Sherman's office when Fiona called and left a voice-mail message for Will to call her back.

He was in the process of telling Sherman's associate that he was agreeing to every single one of their conditions for the production of the 7QA fragment to his experts, and that he was overnighting to Judge Kaye his formal consent to the terms set out in Sherman's motion. He was faxing his consent as they were speaking.

Despite all that, Sherman's legal associate was hesitant to commit to an exact time when the fragment would actually be produced.

“The written order of Judge Kaye to produce 7QA to our experts should be signed by day after tomorrow,” Will countered. “I do not want any delays. If there are, I will be filing a motion for contempt of court against your office.”

The associate lawyer assured him that he would be in touch with J-Fox Sherman, who was presently in trial in a complicated antitrust case in New York, and that he would relay Will's concerns to his boss.

Will called Fiona back. “I'm looking at the area code on your voice mail; that's North Carolina, isn't it?” Will asked.

“Yes,” Fiona replied, “I'm getting ready for a concert in the coliseum down here in Greensboro. Thanks for calling me back.”

“Sure. How are you?”

“Well, I got your present. That was very kind. You didn't have to do that.”

“I know. But I did want to thank you for the dinner. And it just seemed to have your name written all over it.”

“I heard about your house burning down. When I heard I just cried. How awful. Da says that he finds the whole thing very—I think ‘sinister' is the word he used.”

That reminded Will of the problems he was having over the claim, and the cloud of suspicion hanging over his head.

“Fiona, this may come as a strange request. But I just wanted to ask you something. Was I thoughtless enough to include the sales receipt in the box I sent to you?”

“Gee, I don't remember. I don't think so,” Fiona replied hesitantly.

“How about the box? Did it have the logo or name of the shop where I bought it?”

Fiona thought for a few seconds.

“I don't think it did. Just a plain white box with tissue paper and Styrofoam in it,” she said. And then she asked, “Will, does this have something to do with your house fire? Da told me that they're trying to blame you. They are questioning your word on where you were that day.”

“Well,” Will replied, “I really don't want to burden you with anything else. Please just let me know if you recall anything about where I bought that statue. I'm sure this fire investigation will come out all right. No reason to worry.”

“I sure will try to remember anything I can,” Fiona responded. “By the way, I heard that you had dinner with my father and that you met my mother.”

“Yes, I did.”

“This is the last leg of my tour. I'm going home to be with her full-time. I really need to be with my mum now.”

Will could tell that Fiona's voice was trembling slightly.

“It meant a lot, meeting her,” Will said.

After a moment's silence, Fiona spoke again. “Will, I did have one other reason to call you.” Her voice had changed a little.

“What is it?”

“Well—I guess when I received that package from you with that very thoughtful gift, I thought we ought to talk.”

Somehow, Will knew what she was going to tell him.

“Remember our dinner together? You asked whether I was going out on dates. I told you I was single by choice. Like I said, I feel that it is probably God's choice for me. But even if I felt that God had prepared someone for me, it would have to be someone who knows Jesus personally and loves him with all his heart. I think that probably puts us light-years apart.”

Will could hear her draw in a shaky breath. “You are a wonderful guy. So much love underneath that thick skin of yours. And a brilliant lawyer. My father was right—I think you are God's choice for his case. But I can't see how you could be God's choice for me. I hope you don't think I am being
too harsh in saying this—this is not easy for me. You have such a precious place in my heart. But I just don't want you to have any expectations.”

“No,” Will said quietly. “I could see this coming some time ago. Just a feeling I had.”

He could hear Fiona crying softly.

“Please forgive me,” she said composing herself. “With my mum getting worse and everything else, this has been hard. But God has really been so good to us in the midst of all this.”

“I wish I could make it easier,” Will said. “I would do anything not to see you hurt. Listen, you've got to get ready to sing. I ought to let you go. I want you to sing like an angel tonight. How should I say this—how about, ‘give 'em
heaven
tonight!'”

Fiona laughed, and promised she would.

After hanging up the phone Will knew he had heard a door close. He had no choice but to move on. The problem was, he had no idea what that meant, or how he was going to do it. Somehow he had to keep moving straight ahead, and not look back. He sat and stared out the window for several minutes, thinking about the hurt and the sadness he felt because of Fiona's call. He had to face the truth—he had allowed Fiona to become a major force in his heart, like the moon pulling the tide.

Will tried to pull himself together, while he trudged over to the conference room to where the papers for the MacCameron case had now expanded. He had to prepare for Dr. Reichstad's deposition. But he knew now that it would be impossible to get his experts in to evaluate the 7QA fragment
before
he would be asking Reichstad questions under oath. Thus, he would not have that arsenal of ammunition to use in his questioning. That fact would be a major hindrance.

As a result of questioning hundreds of witnesses over the years, he had learned the sad truth. When something
really important
was at stake, you had to corner the witness with the facts—
force
the truth out through well-placed and expertly timed questions. Truth-telling was not, with a biased and self-interested party like Reichstad, a matter that could simply be taken for granted. Rather, the truth was something that would have to be squeezed out like the last bit of toothpaste from a toothpaste tube.

And in just a few days, Will would have his opportunity to start squeezing.

45

J
ACK
H
ORNBY WAS FOLLOWING UP A LEAD
. He knew there had been a meeting recently, near the OPEC headquarters in Vienna. In attendance at the meeting had been the top Muslim clerics from each of the OPEC nations.

Hornby knew there was no
official
tie-in between Islam and the OPEC oil cartel. Yet there had always been a lurking suspicion that the original driving force behind OPEC was the desire to protect and preserve the most potent economic weapon that Islam had—the thick, black liquid that lay like a treasure trove, beneath the sands of the nations of the Middle East.

OPEC had been created in 1960 by a conference of Islamic nations that had met in Baghdad. Among the original five members, the only nation not overtly controlled by Islam was Venezuela. But even it had strong Islamic sympathies and had regularly appointed Muslim delegates to the OPEC conferences.

With the council of Islamic clerics meeting in Vienna at the same time as the annual meeting of OPEC, Hornby had begun to see a pattern emerging.

Then he had received a call from someone in the U.S. who had a relative in Vienna. According to Hornby's source, American billionaire Warren Mullburn had met with the Islamic clerics at a lavish villa just outside Vienna—at the same time the OPEC conference was going on.

Having already been alerted to Mullburn's suspicious connections, Hornby was now hot on the trail. He pulled every public speech, article, and book authored by Warren Mullburn.

After keyword-searching for “Islam, Christianity, Mullburn” on the Net, Hornby noticed the numerous times that Mullburn had made favorable mention of Islam and had advocated a merger of some type between the two religions. Was Mullburn's motivation just part of his eccentric philosophical
meanderings? Or was his entrée into the Islam-OPEC connection a matter of brute economics? Or was it perhaps some combination of the two?

Hornby called Will Chambers to exchange information and get an update on the Reichstad lawsuit.

“Guess what I just finished doing,” Will said after he had been greeted by the reporter.

“I'm bad at guessing games,” Hornby replied.

“I thought you were the guy who was always running with ‘hunches.'”

“I believe in hunches. That's different. What'd you come up with?”

“Well—but first I need to give you some background details. And these need to stay under wraps, unless and until the case goes to trial.”

“You know my reputation. I only blow the lid at the right time—and on the right people.”

“Okay,” Will replied. He went on to recount MacCameron's meeting with Dr. Hunter in Jerusalem. And how and why MacCameron had become suspicious of the deaths of Hunter and Azid. Lastly, Will explained his client's theories about Reichstad's connection with the two dead men and the fragment that seemed so similar to 7QA.

“So what you're saying,” concluded Hornby, “is that Reichstad must have come into possession of Hunter's fragment by some skullduggery—is that the case?”

“You're right on track.”

“So—you're going to have your client testify at trial that Hunter gave him a description of the fragment that was identical to what's now known as the 7QA fragment—and if the jury believes your guy, you just might have ballpark triple on that issue. Okay, I see a story coming.”

“Wait a minute—how are you going to get this in print?” Will questioned. “Your newspaper's in Mullburn's pocket now.”

“Watch me,” Hornby responded.

“Well, and Mr. Billionaire brings me to the punch-line. I did a computer check on the Israeli newspapers during the week of Reichstad's New Testament antiquities conference in Jerusalem,” Will explained. “I pulled up a little blurb in the
Jerusalem Post.
Guess who was in town that week?
Our Mr. Mullburn—
on ‘business.' The same week as Reichstad was there—the same week that Azid and Hunter show up dead. And shortly thereafter, Reichstad trumpets to the world that he has the 7QA—received from Azid shortly before his ‘suicide.'”

“Then lo and behold—7QA spells doom to the story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. And that is just swell to the Muslims—because calling Jesus the Son of God is blasphemy to them,” Hornby added.

“So, what is it that you have for me?” Will asked.

“Well, speaking of Islam,” Hornby went on, “I just learned that Mullburn was in on some supersecret meeting of the head Muslim clerics of the OPEC nations, in Vienna. That meeting was just before the formal OPEC meeting—also in Vienna. My hunch is that Mullburn is trying to convince the Muslims that the U.S. is Allah-friendly. In return for some ‘cultural reconciliation,' to borrow one of Kenneth Sharptin's favorite phrases, Mullburn is trying to get himself appointed to this new American chair at the OPEC meetings.”

“Well, in light of his campaign contributions for Sharptin, that certainly smells illegal.”

“Of course,” Hornby noted, “so Mullburn will get someone who is beholden to him—the guy owns everybody—to hold that seat at OPEC and to be his stoolie. Mullburn would have insider information on oil production and prices way before the rest of the world. It would be a goldmine for him.”