burned at the stake for refusing to betray Templar secrets, he levied a terrible curse by promising that the king of France and the pope would follow him to the grave within a year. Both did so. So was the book found to begin with? Was it lost? Or was it . . .”
“Re-hidden,” Miriam said.
“In the Temple Mount!” I cried.
“Possibly, but in places so deep it cannot be easily found again.
Moreover, when Saladin recaptured Jerusalem from the Crusaders, the possibility of penetrating the mount seemed lost. Even now, the Muslims guard it zealously. No doubt they’ve heard some of the stories we have. Yet they allow no exploration. These secrets could shake all religions to their foundations, and Islam is an enemy of witchcraft.”
“You mean we can’t get in there?”
“If we tried and were found, we’d be executed. It is sacred ground.
Excavations in the past have caused riots. It would be as if we tried to excavate St. Peter’s.”
“Then why are we talking?”
They glanced at each other in mutual understanding.
“Ah. So we must not be found.”
“Exactly,” Jericho said. “Farhi has suggested a possible path.”
“Why hasn’t he taken this path himself?”
“Because it is wet, filthy, dangerous, confined, and probably futile,” Farhi said cheerfully. “We were, after all, dealing only with vague historical legend until you come with claims that something 7 0
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extraordinary really existed in ancient Egypt, and was perhaps carried here. Do I believe it? No. You may be an entertaining liar, or a credulous fool. But do I
“So you will lead us?”
“As well as a disfigured bookkeeper can.”
“For a share of the treasure, I presume.”
“For truth and knowledge, as Thoth would be content with.”
“Which Miriam said could be used for good or evil.”
“The same could be said about money, my friend.” Well, anytime a stranger announces altruism, and calls me friend, I wonder what pocket he’s reaching into. But in my own months of searching I hadn’t found a clue, had I? Maybe he and I could use each other. “Where do we start?”
“Between the Dome of the Rock and the El-Aqsa Mosque is the Fountain of El-Kas,” Farhi said crisply. “It draws its water from ancient rain cisterns deep within the Temple Mount. Those cisterns are connected by tunnels, to feed each other. Some writers have speculated they are part of a vein of passages that may extend even under the holy rock Kubbet es-Sakhra itself, where Abraham offered his sacrifice to God: the foundation stone of the world. Moreover, these cisterns must also be connected to springs, not just rainwater. Accordingly, a decade ago I was asked by Djezzar to search the ancient records for underground passageways into Temple Mount. I told him I found none.”
“You lied?”
“It was a costly admission of failure. I was mutilated as punishment.
But the reason is that I
“The cisterns,” said Miriam, “might lead to the deepest places where the Jews may have hid the ark, the book, and other treasures.”
“Until, perhaps, they were uncovered by the Knights Templar,” t h e
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Farhi added. “And, perhaps, re-hidden—after Jacques de Molay burned at the stake. There is one other problem, however, that has also discouraged me from pursuing any exploration.”
“The tunnels are blocked by water?” I had grim memories of my escape from the Great Pyramid.
“Possibly. But even if they are not, one record I found made reference to doors that are sealed. What was once open may now be closed.”
“Determined men can force any locked door, with enough muscle or gunpowder,” Jericho said.
“Not gunpowder!” Farhi said. “Do you want to arouse the city?”
“Muscle, then.”
“What if the Muslims hear us poking around down there?” I asked.
“That,” the banker said, “would be most unfortunate.”
¤
