Three (23 page)

Knowing Oliver was injured
and would have to move more slowly, she decided to let him lead.  She placed a
diffuser over the lens of her small flashlight so that they would have only
enough light to see the surrounding tunnel.  She did not want the light to cast
a beam forward into the tunnel, possibly alerting someone who might be ahead of
them.

The crawl was excruciating
for Oliver, but he was determined to move as quickly and quietly as possible. 
Partway along this difficult trip he was aware of wetness dripping down his
left arm, now throbbing from the insult of this elbow crawl, and realized he
had re-injured his wound. Oliver had to stop and rest four times during the
painful crawl.  The pain and bleeding increased as the two made their way
slowly through the twists and turns of the narrow excavation. In the faint glow
of her flashlight, Maxine saw the trail of blood Oliver was leaving.  She was
beginning to feel its wetness on the front of her clothes as she followed him.

When they reached the first
tunnel junction, Oliver estimated the northward crawl would bring them close to
the Well of Souls.  Motioning Maxine to crawl forward next to him, he
whispered, “We’re about halfway there.  I’ve been thinking about how we might
go about stopping the three, once we reach the Well of Souls.  We’ll not be able
to use force, because there’s no way to prevent one of the three from
triggering the nuclear device.  I’m going to have to turn Ibrahim and Joshua
against Spencer by revealing his false prophecy.”

“Oliver, do you even have the
strength to get to the end of this tunnel?  You’re bleeding from your wound as
we crawl.”

“I know.  But I’ve no choice;
I have to get to them and stop this madness.  Once we reach the entrance to the
Well of Souls, I’ll crawl through and stand in front of the entrance.  When I
begin speaking, shine your diffused flashlight on my back to indicate my
presence.  Keep your pistol ready if I fail.”

They continued on down the
northward tunnel.  The going was more and more difficult.  Oliver had begun to
feel faint from the pain in his left arm and the loss of blood when he noticed
a faint light in the tunnel ahead and reached back to alert Maxine.  Without
speaking, she immediately extinguished her flashlight.  Then they moved forward
slowly and silently. 

When they reached the small
opening near the altar to Abraham, they were able to see the three figures
intent on their work, quietly assembling the nuclear device.  Oliver silently
reached back and touched her hand that held the flashlight and indicated she
should shine it on his back when he stood and entered the Well of Souls.

During the painful journey
through the narrow tunnels, Oliver had been thinking how he might confront
these three men.  He thought of the powerful delivery that had distinguished
Benton Spencer at Harvard Divinity School and had energized the fervor of his
followers.  He contrasted this approach to that of Father Pat in his homily a
week ago.  The soft, steady voice now seemed to be the most powerful in this
place.  Oliver also realized that in his weakened state, he would be unable to
sustain a bombastic speech.  He hoped he could finish this one before
fainting.  He moved silently through the opening and stood, gesturing to Maxine
to turn on the flashlight. 

As he began to speak, the
effect of his voice in this enclosed cavern surprised even him.  Each soft word
he spoke seemed to be accompanied by a thousand other voices echoing in whispers
through the Well of Souls.  The effect made the hair stand up on the back of
Maxine’s neck.  The effect was the same on the three conspirators.  They each
slowly stood, transfixed on Oliver’s form, outlined in pale white light as
Maxine’s diffused flashlight shone through the thin white fabric of his clothes.
He looked as if he were standing in front of a sunrise, but in the western end
of the Well of Souls.

In the Mosque above, Robert
Swift had moved inside and was quietly watching the entrances to the main floor
under the dome.  Suddenly he heard the ghost-like whispering of a voice coming
from the entrance to the Well of Souls.   Someone or something was there under
the Foundation Stone at the end of the twelve Templar steps.  He stood,
transfixed with his pistol in his hand, at the top of the steps, listening to
the words.  He realized then that Oliver and Maxine had found the hidden way in
and were now confronting the three as they held an armed nuclear weapon.  There
was nothing he could do but wait and hope Oliver could distract or delay the
conspirators long enough for Maxine to somehow disarm them.

Oliver’s words impacted each
transfixed man standing over the nuclear device, now armed. “Benton Spencer, out
of personal vengeance you have placed the mark of the beast on innocent victims
as they were murdered.  You have thus turned your followers into the beast.  Rather
than false prophets, you have persecuted the faithful.  Like the pagan Romans
in the first century, your young followers have martyred three saints: Peter,
Steven, and Paul.  Now you defile this holy place by falsely prophesying the
End of Days. 

“You have convinced Ibrahim
there have been collapses of the earth in the East, the West and on the Arabian
Peninsula, when none have occurred.  Gog and Magog have not gathered forces of
evil against you from all corners of the earth, and you will not be spared from
the fiery furnace like the three: Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  The four
horses have not been called forth by God and a New Jerusalem will not descend
out of a rising mushroom cloud, just radioactive dust. 

“Finally, by opening this
second passage into the Well of Souls, you have repeated the desecration of the
mosque by the Knights Templar.  This holy place is here not to accommodate the
force of mass destruction you hold in your hands, but to disseminate a force of
mass redemption that only God holds in his hands.  None of us belong here.  We
each defile this holy ground by our presence.” 

As these whispery words were
filling the small cavern, Joshua and Ibrahim began to turn toward Spencer with
looks of bitter betrayal.  At the end of Oliver’s speech, Spencer suddenly let
out a deafening wail and lunged forward toward the nuclear bomb.  His two
companions immediately restrained him as Maxine rushed in from the passageway,
pistol in hand and Swift rushed down the Templar steps from the inner mosque. 
In the rush Maxine had knocked Oliver into the corner.  As he was slowly trying
to rise from the floor, the three conspirators, clothed in their light green
jump suits, were being restrained and led up the Templar steps into the
mosque.  Unable to rise, Oliver slumped down to the floor, leaning next to the
altar to Abraham. 

Once the three green-clad men
were secured at the top of the Templar steps, Maxine turned and asked, “Where
is Oliver?”  She immediately realized he had not walked up the steps behind
her.  Rushing back down into the Well of Souls, she found him still slumped
near the tunnel entrance. “Oliver, are you all right; can you stand?”  He
mumbled something as she got her arms under him so as not to further injure his
bleeding left arm and helped him to his feet.

A few lights had been turned
on so all could see clearly.  As Maxine led Oliver up the steps and out into
the floor of the Dome of the Rock, she was aware of his loss of blood and his
unsteadiness, and held him against her body in case he fainted.   With Oliver’s
blood staining their clothes, they slowly made their way up the stairs together. 
Oliver, weak and numb from the ordeal, felt the warmth of Maxine’s body against
his as he struggled to maintain his balance.

Nevertheless, he stopped in
front of Spencer and said, “Dr. Spencer, let me remind you that the proper
liturgical color for Trinity Sunday is white, not pale green.” 

Under the cover of darkness,
some of the security team members began escorting the three conspirators from the
mosque and into unmarked sedans.  They would be held in a high security prison
in Israel until transferred to the proper jurisdictions for individual trials. 
The remaining security team members had split into two groups.  One group
discretely closed the forbidden tunnel, while the other carefully disarmed the
bomb and removed it to a safe location for its final disposal.  All present
knew the facts of this night would stay buried deep within that tunnel, and
like it, remain hidden for many, many years.

The trials of each of these three
main conspirators would be carried out in closed hearings at the national
criminal courts of their respective countries: United States, Israel, and
Jordan.  Benton Spencer would be tried for the murders of Peter Newbury at
Fermilab and Steven Nash at CERN.  Joshua Cohen, in turn, would be placed on
trial for the attempted sabotage of the Amundsen – Scott South Pole Station. 
In addition, he would be charged with the murder of Colonel Paul Brown and the
associated deaths of Joel and Enoch.

 Ibrahim had denounced his
Iranian citizenship and thus fell under Jordanian jurisdiction for having
attacked the international facility at CERN in a plot that was now defined as
being associated with ISIS.  There would be no publicity of these three trials,
and no connection made between the three conspirators.  All court records of
these three independent trials would remain sealed for as long a time as the
tunnels under the Temple Mount.

In Oliver’s hotel room Maxine
and Agent Swift attended to his arm.  He might need additional stitches, and
was weak from the loss of blood, but for now Oliver felt that formal medical
care could wait until they were back in Washington.  They each knew the less
attention to their activities in Jerusalem the better.

As he was securing Oliver’s
bandage, Swift said, “Saxon, I’ve changed my mind.  You’re the most lethal
field agent I’ve ever met, and you definitely don’t need weapons training.” 

Not lost on Oliver was the
fact that, as Robert was saying this, there were two nine millimeter hand guns,
in their holsters, lying on the night table next to his chair. 

Maxine, still in her torn and
bloody clothes, had picked up the Bible that Oliver had earlier given her to
study.  Smiling gently at him she said, “Oliver, you know, of course, there is a
fifth horse of the apocalypse,” and she read from the nineteenth chapter of
Revelation, “’And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that
sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge
and make war….and he was clothed in a white vestment dipped in blood….and out
of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations.’” 

I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.

-
Robert Frost

          The G450 had flown
Oliver, Maxine, and Robert Swift back to Washington where Oliver had received
expert medical attention to his wound at Walter Reed.  Cleaned and re-bandaged,
it would heal with no lasting harm to his left arm, although the doctors had
indicated it would be sore for some time and he would need some physical
therapy in the next few weeks.  They had referred him to physical therapists in
Washington, D. C., and Chicago. 

Later that morning the three
met at Arlington National Cemetery in time for the military funeral of Colonel
Paul Brown.  His casket had been received at Dover Air Force Base by an honor
guard from the 3
^rd
Infantry Regiment.  He had served in combat as a
Marine pilot and had now distinguished himself in the defense of his country in
the attack at Christchurch.  He was to be buried with full military honors.

The casket was carried to the
gravesite by horse-drawn caisson, accompanied by six soldiers from his former
unit.  Led behind them was a rider-less horse.  Oliver now found himself
participating in another sacred grave-side service, this time surrounded by the
endless rows of white headstones marking the graves of America’s fallen
heroes.  Taps was played by a lone bugler at the end of the service as the
honor guard slowly and deliberately lifted the flag from the casket and folded
it into its traditional triangle.

Paul Brown’s wife received
the flag, gently handed to her by a member of the honor guard at the end of the
ceremony.  As these formal, but meaningful actions were taking place, Oliver
found himself wishing he had been quicker at second-guessing Benton Spencer’s
moves. 
Maybe I could have prevented the killings that followed Peter’s.
 

Maxine was having similar
thoughts as she watched Paul Brown’s wife and children comfort each other and
try to maintain their proud composure as they sat at the gravesite holding the
folded flag.  She was keenly aware that her feelings of sorrow were for them
alone.  She no longer felt the fear and anxiety that had followed her home from
the Northern Provinces of Iraq.

As they were walking back to
their cars following the ceremony, Maxine said, “I want to visit a gravesite
here before going back to the office.  Oliver, would you come with me?”

Oliver, knowing this must be
the grave of her fellow advisor in Iraq, smiled and nodded agreement.  This was
to be a moment of closure for Maxine, and she wanted him to be a part of it.

Robert, sensing the deeply
personal moment for Maxine and Oliver, said, “I’ll meet the two of you back at
the I&A conference room,” and walked to his car.

Maxine had a tattered map of
the national cemetery she had carried with her since returning from Iraq.  She
knew where he had been buried, but had been afraid to visit his grave until
now.  Oliver followed Maxine as she studied the map and walked along the
endless rows of head stones.  Finally she stopped before a grave marked, “Lt.
Thomas Carson, U. S. Army Special Forces, 1986 – 2014.”

As tears began to flow,
Maxine attempted to tell Oliver about that morning.  “We were inspecting the
new weapons when he was shot.  I must have been seen by the sniper; why was I
not in his crosshairs?”  She then broke down in bitter weeping, and Oliver
gathered her in his arms and held her tightly to himself. 

As she wept, holding on to him,
Oliver said to her, “How were you spared when Tom died in Iraq?  How was I
spared when Paul died at Christchurch?  Max, we’ll never know the answer to
those questions.  Each sacrifice, memorialized here on this hill overlooking
the Lincoln Memorial, allowed countless others to live and to thrive in this
free land.  Perhaps you and I were each spared so we could complete a mission.”

The two stood, each holding
the other tightly, until Maxine had composed herself.  Releasing her hold on
Oliver, she said, “Thank you for being here with me.  We can go back to the
office now.”

Walking out of the cemetery
and to their cars, Oliver said, “If you’re not ready to conduct our formal
debriefing this afternoon, we can wait until later.”

“I’m OK now,” replied Maxine,
“let’s get it done.”

Driving across the Arlington
Memorial Bridge and around the Lincoln Memorial, Maxine was thinking of
Oliver’s words of comfort as she took in the beauty of Washington, D. C.  She
thought of what could have happened last week if they had not stopped Benton
Spencer.  Turning northwest on Mass. Avenue, she headed toward Nebraska, to
join Oliver and Robert Swift at the I&A office to begin sorting out and
documenting the events of the last week. 

Oliver greeted Maxine in the
parking lot of the Homeland Security complex, and they joined Robert Swift in
the I&A office.  Spreading out their notes in a conference room near
Maxine’s office, they began preparing their report.  Oliver, the organized
academician, erected a large story board against one wall and began diagramming
the entire set of events, to include all the people and places.  He stood
examining it.  “I should have seen this pattern much sooner.  Spencer certainly
left all the clues.”

Robert Swift looked at Oliver
and then at Maxine.  “Oliver, Max, without your expert analysis and dogged
determination this plot would have caused a world crisis.  You both should be
commended.”

Oliver responded, “Max and I
both work in that dark world where commendations are considered dangerous
because they attract too much public attention.  However, for her excellent
work in the field, Max has been offered a new position at CIA as a field
officer.”

“That’s great to hear. 
Congratulations, Max, you will be excellent.  But, what about you, Oliver?”

“I get to work here at
Homeland Security again next summer.”

Maxine reached over and
patted Oliver’s arm sympathetically.  “I’m sure you can get yourself in even
more trouble than you did this summer.”

The three remained
lighthearted as they completed their report and closed out their part in the
case.  The trials of the three conspirators would contain very little of the
information in this top secret report. 

After Swift had left the
I&A offices, Oliver walked to the door of Maxine’s office.  “Max, I’d like
to take you to dinner tonight to celebrate your new position.  Are you free?”

“Of course I am.”

“Good, I’ll pick you up at
your place at seven.  I know a wonderful spot that serves great exotic dishes
and drinks.”

Max grinned at him and said,
“I’ll wear a nice dress, so you better not wear that white outfit of yours.”

“I can’t!  I haven’t seen it
since Jerusalem.  I think they buried it under Temple Mount.”

“Good place for it.”

The two left the offices of
Homeland Security in a spirit of relief and happiness, each anticipating their
evening together. 

Oliver drove to his small
Washington apartment adjacent to American University and showered for the
evening date with Max.  He had been wearing a dark suit for the morning’s
funeral at Arlington Cemetery but chose more casual dress for the evening. 
Worsted slacks and a blazer seemed appropriate.  He laid both out on his bed as
he chose the right shirt and matching tie.  He dressed and then picked up the
neatly wrapped gift he had purchased for Maxine in Waxahachie.  He stood
studying it, thinking of the note he had enclosed inside.  Tossing it lightly
with his right hand, he caught it and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

The drive took him across the
river and on to Williamsburg Blvd. He drove to Falls Church and found Maxine’s
apartment.  Oliver parked nearby and walked to her front door.  He smiled
broadly when she greeted him.  “Max, you look gorgeous!”

“Thanks, Oliver.  I like your
outfit too.  You do have good taste after all.”

“Of course I do, I have a
date with you.”

Oliver helped her into his
car, and the two drove back toward Washington to highway 193 where Oliver
turned north toward Langley.

 Having driven this route
many times from her apartment to the CIA headquarters, Maxine turned to Oliver
and asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“The snack bar is closed at
this time of night.  Besides you don’t have a clearance to get in,” she quipped
when Oliver began to slow the car as he approached the turn-off for the CIA
Headquarters.

“Oh darn, I was hoping you
could sneak us both in,” said Oliver as they passed the entrance road and
continued on north.

When they reached the restaurant,
a few miles further up the highway and down a side road, Maxine looked at
Oliver with delight showing on her face.  “How did you know this is my favorite
place?”

“Remember, Max, I work in
Intelligence and Analysis.”

She prepared to poke him in
the shoulder, but then remembered his gunshot wound.

They walked side-by-side to
the entrance and were immediately approached by the head waiter who greeted
them by name and escorted them to their table in a corner of the dining room. 
Maxine was impressed. 
Has Oliver been here so many times the head waiter
knows him by name?
  She wondered why the waiter had not presented them
with menus.   She had decided to order her favorite Indian dish when she
realized they were approaching this restaurant. 

Oliver smiled at her as he
read her mind.  “Max, this is your night.  For the first time this summer we
don’t have to rush.”

“I’m sorry if I look
anxious.  The waiters have always handed out menus before.  What’s going on?”

As Maxine was saying this,
the waiter, displaying his usual serious face, placed small glasses in front of
them and poured lemon-flavored vodka from a carafe encased in ice and frozen
fruit slices.  She again looked at Oliver suspiciously.  “Just how much
intelligence have you gathered about me?”

“Enough to discover that a
nice Quaker girl from Missouri likes chilled vodka.”

“Shocking, isn’t it.”

“Absolutely.  No pun
intended.”

The two continued to sip
their chilled drinks, the waiter continuing to refill their glasses.  Maxine
had just begun to say something when a second waiter appeared and placed her
favorite dish before her, picking up her napkin and placing it gently on her
lap.  She looked at Oliver in surprise as his plate was being served to him. 
“Oliver, you are amazing.”

“Everyone tells me that.”

Maxine just shook her head,
as she picked up her fork and began to relish the curry on her plate.  “Just how
much did you find out during your secret intelligence work?”

“Well, I learned your home
town used to be a wild, lead-mining boom town.  Some of its better-known
residents included Ma Barker and sons.”

“Hey, they’re not my
relatives.  They’ve always been a sore topic with Grandfather, but we’re not
part of their gang.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Max. 
I wouldn’t want to associate with kidnappers and bank robbers.”

The two glowered at each
other in mock indignation.  Finally Oliver said, “Seriously, Max, I wanted this
evening to be special for you.  I may not have another chance to tell you how
much you mean to me.  You began the summer withdrawn and grieving, and you
managed to pull it together in the face of grave danger.  You also pulled me
together and twice saved my life.”

“Oliver, none of that would
have been possible without your care for me.  Yes, I was grieving over the
death of Tom, and you were patient with me, and helped me work through it.  You
helped change my outlook.”

“But now you’ll be back in the
field facing new dangers.  Are you ready for that?”

“I think so.  After all, I
spent this past week doing much the same thing.  I think I’m ready to return to
Langley.  By the way, now that we’ve finished our report for the director, what
are you going to do before you go back to the University of Chicago?”

“I’m going to write a paper
on religious zeal: how it can lead to peace as well as war.  You see, Max, you’ve
helped me to change my outlook too.”

“What are you planning to
say?”

“That man is free to choose
between good and evil.  The more fervent one’s religious belief, the more
unstable this choice becomes.  Believers like Elizabeth, Khalil, and David show
respect for all others regardless of their faiths.  However, when love is
replaced by hatred, the most devout person can become an agent of evil,
deceiving himself that he is on the side of good.”

“Like our Father Abraham
conspiracy.”

“Like Benton Spencer who
turned his followers into beasts and planned to start the apocalypse in
Jerusalem on Trinity Sunday!”

“I read the paper you wrote
last summer.  ISIS is following a similar End of Days prophesy to bring the
worlds radicals to their cause.  How can such evil be stopped?”