Zero Point (13 page)

Paulo screamed in terror as the Land Rover was forcibly pushed over the precipice. The vehicle plummeted end-over-end down the rocky cliff face, exploding in a fireball when it hit the bottom of the ravine.

Still conscious in the flaming wreckage, Paulo felt the heat increasing around him. He tried to move in a desperate attempt to escape the conflagration, but found he was pinned within the vehicle. He shrieked in unimaginable pain as uncaring ears listened and watched from high above. The two men, satisfied with their gruesome handy work, headed back to the black SUV.

“We’re lucky to have seen this vehicle leaving the site,” the one man said, lighting a cigarette as the two went back to their vehicle. “Osama would have been extremely angry if anyone would have escaped before we had the opportunity to remove the bodies from outside of the cave.”

“Osama will never know, will he?” the other man said casually as the ominous black SUV headed back to the dig site to clean up the gruesome remains of the soldiers killed during the assault, and to extricate the assault team.

***

Back in the dim light of the lava tube, a stunned Josh Turner raised his head and looked about as the dust and
debris finally began settle. His ears still rang loudly from the grenade explosion.

“Is everyone alright?” he asked, brushing the dust from his hair.

“We’re okay, Josh,” Samuel answered as he and Maria rose up off the floor of the cave.

“Fine here as well,” Captain Saune said as he and his man rose quickly and headed over to what had moments ago been their only way out.

“Are you okay, Dad?” he asked, rising up on his knee and helping his father.

“Other than being a bit woozy from that mad man whacking me on the noggin, I’m alright,” Eli replied as he picked up his hat. “Good to see you and Samuel again, Son. Your timing is impeccable.”

“I’m so glad to see you, Josh,” Maria said as she ran over and threw her arms around him. “I don’t know what would have happened if you and Samuel hadn’t shown up when you did,” she said, tightening her embrace around him.

“I really missed you,” Turner whispered. He returned her warm embrace, succumbing to the fragrance of her sweat mixed with the scent of her perfume. Feeling her body against his, he looked deeply into her fiery blue eyes and saw the longing look that he had so naively failed to recognize for so many months.

“Alright you love birds, get a room,” Samuel said sarcastically, walking past them in the direction Saune and his
man had gone moments earlier. He stopped when he saw them returning.

“Well, the good news is that lunatic is dead,” Saune reported. “The bad news is he succeeded in sealing us in here. Most of the access tunnel has collapsed, and what’s left doesn’t look too healthy. We’re lucky he didn’t set that thing off in here or we’d all be dead.”

“This keeps getting better and better,” Samuel brooded as he took one of the flashlights and began walking towards the access tunnel. Turner, brought back to the reality by the situation at hand, reluctantly released Maria’s embrace and walked over to his father.

“I take it these guys weren’t just your run of the mill looters,” he said to his father, who was gently feeling the gash in his temple with his fingers. “They were definitely pros.”

“We’re pretty sure that they were from the satellite relay facility located on the ridge above this site. It’s owned by Bishamon Corporation, a Japanese business,” Eli responded. “Carlos warned us about them, but I didn’t think they were cold-blooded murderers.”

“Why in the hell would a scientific research facility want to kill all of you?” Turner asked, brushing the dust off his arms. “Unless…maybe the complex is not exactly a legitimate facility?”

“Drugs maybe?” Samuel offered, returning from his inspection of the cave-in.

“Seems like an extremely elaborate cover just for drugs, Samuel,” Eli countered.

“Well, whatever the reason,” Turner said flatly, “you must have gotten too close to something that they didn’t want you, or anyone else, to see.”

“That would explain why they went to so much trouble making this look like an accident,” Saune said, kneeling next to the dead Japanese man that Turner had eliminated. “They could have easily shot us all at any time. Did you manage to neutralize the target that left the cave before you came in?” the Captain asked as he pulled the AK-47 from the man’s death grip.

“Just knocked him out, I’m afraid,” Turner replied, looking at his friend Samuel. “But, when he wakes up, he’ll most likely believe that they have succeeded in their plans.”

“Believe they succeeded!” Samuel stated incredulously. “From the looks of things, I’d say they hit a home run, amigo. There's no way were going to be able to dig our way out of here. It’ll take days for rescue crews to get to us and there's no guarantee that the rest of our little casa here won’t collapse in the process.”

“We don’t have too many other options open to us,” Eli offered flatly as he walked over to the backpack containing the papyrus next to the amphora. “We might as well get comfortable.”

Eli opened the pack and carefully lifted out the ancient parchment. He held it up to the lantern for a better look.

“What’s that, Dad?” Turner asked as he and Maria move closer to inspect the item in Eli’s hand.

“We found this in that amphora in the crypt, just before those cretins interrupted us,” Eli replied. “Thinking it was just looters, I stuffed it in my pack for safe keeping. Care to have a look?”

“Not exactly good, sound archeology,” Maria said, chastising the elder Turner in a joking manner.

“That’s my Dad,” Turner offered with a grin to his father.

“We might as well take a look. We certainly have plenty of time on our hands.” He knelt down closer to the parchment and then very carefully, began unrolling the ancient document.

“Would
you
have a look at this?” Eli exclaimed. “The text is in Aramaic just like the one Maria and Samuel found. How’s your memory in ancient Aramaic, Son?”

“A little rusty, but I’ll give it a shot,” He grabbed the lantern and set it down next to the ancient parchment. After being lost for almost two thousand years, he could see the ancient papyrus was amazingly well-preserved and missing only a few fragments. Turner began a slow translation of the text as the rest of the group listened intently from the gloom of their rock prison.

‘“I, Simon, a Disciple and follower of our risen Master, Jesus of Nazareth, write this as a last testament to my fate,
and to tell all, the privilege bestowed upon me by my mentor, Joseph of Ramleh, so many years ago.

The precious gifts of our Lord entrusted to my care are now safe from the hands of the unbelievers, who seek their destruction. I pray that to whom may find this that your heart would be of one with mine.

Death draws close to me now. I know I will die here, far from home and the loved ones I once knew, but I pass on from this life secure in the knowledge that I go to paradise with my work here in this world complete.

I and my travel companions, and fellow believers, Titus and Philemon, fled our home land long ago as word of the treasures in my possession reached those in Rome, who seek us, and persecute other believers even unto the pain of death for our faith.

After many years in relative safety in Thera, we were betrayed by one of our own to the Romans and narrowly escaped with our treasured possessions. We traveled far and eventually found refuge in Mauretania under the rule of Ptolemy, king of Mauretania, and vassal of Rome. They welcomed us, and even under the constraints of Roman jurisdiction, let us share the Gospel to many. We repaid their kindness applying our trade as merchants. We were then commissioned to lead an expedition to the Isles of Bliss to the west off the coast of Mauretania to establish trade with its people.

Knowing my death comes soon from illness, and that my journey is soon finished, Titus discovered a resting place for the Master’s earthly vestiges, and there they now lie in the hopes that one day, men will come to cherish them.

The Teme of this Island of Ninguaria, whom we attribute as being their king, has allowed my friends to intern my body in his family catacomb when my passing comes. These people have offered so much kindness towards us; though they are a strange and heathen culture, we are much in their debt.

Titus and Philemon have sworn before God to guard the secret of the resting place, which holds our Lord’s gifts to the world, until the time is once again favorable.

To you that find this and seek the truth, know that you will find the Master’s cup; his last meal with his Disciples, the symbol of his Divinity. The crown of thorns, that adorned the Master’s brow, which was the symbol of his humbling before God, and the last written word of our Lord, the symbol of his humanity and ministry to us on earth, on Junonia beneath the Hands of God.

May you who find them use them to his honor and glory, Amen.
”’

The group stared at one another in stunned silence for what seemed like minutes after Turner finished translating the papyrus. Eli broke the silence.

“This is absolutely incredible; a document actually penned by Jesus. Just think of the implications to the historical community.”

“Or the consequences of what it might say,” Samuel interjected. “Why would he go to so much trouble to hide that, along with the cup and crown of thorns, from the world?”

“Simon states that he was protecting them from nonbelievers that would destroy them, along with a fledgling Christianity,” Maria added, watching Turner stare intently at the lantern flame flickering in the cave’s dim light. “At the time of Ptolemy’s rule of Mauretania, or what is now Morocco, Caligula was Emperor of Rome and thought of himself a God. He wouldn’t have thought twice about eliminating any competition at that time. What better way to crush a threat than to destroy its symbols?”

“Well, it seems like he went to an awful lot of trouble to hide them all the way here in the Canaries,” Samuel said, now also curious as to Turner’s pensive look.

“I think I might know where they are!” Maria exclaimed excitedly after a few moments of reflection. “Our Simon wrote that the artifacts rest on Junonia. We know that the ancients called these islands the Isles of Bliss, or the Fortunate Islands, due to their favorable climate, and they named La Palma Junonia.” She kneeled down and drew a crude map of La Palma on the dirt with her finger.

“Located here,” she said as she poked a dot with her index finger on the crude map, “on the western flank of La
Palma is a rock formation that was once in the shape of hands clasped together. Today it is called the rock of the Blessed Virgin, which was partially destroyed in the volcanic eruption occurring in 1949. A fault as wide as twelve feet was created by a landslide along that ridge as a result of the volcanic activity adjacent to the rock, but it’s still recognizable today.”

“A lot of good that does us being trapped in here,” Samuel said morosely, reminding them of their current predicament. “There’s no way out of here.”

“Maybe there is, Samuel,” Turner offered quietly, still staring at the flame of the lantern. “We’re going to walk out of here,” he announced to the startled look of the others in their basalt-rock jail.

“I don’t see where you’re going, amigo,” Samuel said. “Look at the lantern’s flame,” Turner said, pointing at the burning wick.

“Only moving air could make the flame dance like that in here. We start walking that way,” he announced, pointing toward the back of the cave. He was pointing to the small entrance to the darkened, foreboding lava tube that led upward into the depths of the long-silent Volcano

8

A
t the Bishamon facility, Robert Pencor paced back and forth in the office of Yagato Osama like a caged lion. Expecting things done in a timely and orderly fashion, Pencor was furious that the lone physicist, Yashiro, somehow managed to escape. To add to his growing anger, there was no word from the assault team sent hours ago to eliminate the archeology team.

“Relax, Robert,” Osama said from his chair as he nervously eyed the phone on his desk. “You can rest assured that my men will not fail in their task.”

“Have they caught the scientist who escaped yet?” Pencor asked, still pacing.

“Not yet, but he has nowhere to go and will most likely be lost in that lava tube and never found, or….”

“Or, he could find a way out and reveal our plans,” Pencor shot back, halting in his tracks and staring menacingly at Osama. “That cannot be allowed to happen because according to
your
scientists, only one more day is needed to release the fault successfully.”

“Yes, Robert, that was unexpected. The ground sensors we placed on La Palma indicate that the core temperature is
rising at a much more rapid rate than anticipated. Using the magma chamber deep beneath the island like a gigantic pressure cooker is a far more controllable means of executing our plans than just having it totally erupt without control. It is—”

The buzzing of the phone interrupted his thought and he quickly picked up the receiver.