The soft hum of the Gulfstream coursing through the atmosphere at 982 kilometers per hour was the balm Lucas Pryce needed after months of careful planning and execution. So was the glass of scotch nestled in his cupped left hand resting on the soft, cream leather recliner, its oakiness lingering in his nostrils and on his tongue. A welcomed guest.
A wave of turbulence rumbled through the private plane, the ice cubes clinking in response. One of the flight attendants on point for his trip caught his attention, then motioned with his hands for Lucas to connect his seat belt. He rolled his eyes, sighed, and sat up straight, then obliged. He smiled weakly and nodded, then raised his glass and took another long drink, the half-diluted, caramel-colored alcohol still packing enough punch to delightfully burn his throat going down.
Lucas closed his eyes and thought about the rest of the journey ahead. A few more days and it would all be over. Yet there were still far too many moving parts, too many unknown variables.
Not the least of which was Silas Grey.
He wondered what the man had thought of the little shell game he was playing with the Ark of the Covenant. He grinned just thinking about the look on his face. Priceless. The man who had been single-handedly responsible for confirming the existence of the fabled Hebrew relic through extra-biblical means thought he would lay hands on it.
Poor guy. What a chump.
He assumed Silas had slunk back to Princeton since he had seen neither him nor his brunette co-conspirator after his press conference mea culpa. Hopefully, the empty chamber put to rest any suspicions concerning its whereabouts and Silas would leave the matter alone. But he couldn't be sure, especially after finding the man in his room. He had known the man to be resourceful. Just look at what he had discovered those years ago. No matter. His former student would be dealt with soon enough.
As far as the world was concerned, the Ark was still missing as it had been since the First Temple period. More importantly, it was no longer connected to the Temple, dispelling any Jewish End Times expectations the Ark would serve in a Third Temple period.
Just as Nous had wanted. And Lucas Pryce.
The rabbinic Judaism that had formed after the Second Temple period came to a close with the destruction of the Temple in AD 70 continued to believe firmly in the importance of the Temple treasures for the future of Israel and the Jewish faith. They had insisted that those vessels, especially the Ark of the Covenant, would be rediscovered and restored in the End Times with the final restoration of Israel. Jewish tradition had always maintained that the treasures of the Temple would remain hidden until the coming of the Messiah. Which is why the Holy City's Rabbi was so eager to help Lucas. He had seen Lucas's interest and his discoveries as a providential answer to prophecies concerning the restoration of Israel. Yet, the man’s hopes had been dashed in upon the shoals of his brilliant conspiracy.
Shortly after his team had finally broken through the collapsed, hidden shaft leading to the chamber entrance, Pryce had hired an excavation outfit out of Miami, Florida. He’d heard about the successes of San Jose New World Salvage and Exploration in Cuba finding the fabled, lost Spanish fleet. Their LiDAR imaging technology had been lauded as a breakthrough in excavation techniques, revolutionizing how old goats like him went about the task of unearthing the past. An academic contact in America freelancing with Nous had put him in touch with Pryce, and the company had signed on to help confirm his suspicions about the Temple treasures.
Using their equipment, he was able to all but verify the chamber was empty. He couldn't be sure, because the images revealed the two levels they discovered upon entering. But he was nearly confident of the outcome before opening those bronze doors. He had paid off the team to manipulate the images to suggest the presence of artifacts. The doctored proof had clearly made the Holy City's Rabbi drunk with religious fervor.
For generations, Jewish activists who had tried to see those Messianic expectations realized by forcing the new eschatological era to the surface had insisted that the Ark would be returned to a new Temple. Such a return would usher in the long-awaited day where Yahweh would cause his Shekinah glory to dwell once again in the Third Temple, as the prophet Haggai had prophesied. Those zealots wanted to make all mankind worshipers of the One God in Jerusalem on the Holy Temple Mount, and finally resume the former glory of the Temple's primary function: the atonement sacrifices. Discovering the Ark of the Covenant was the final piece for making that a reality.
But with the clear proof, for all the world to see, that the Temple treasures were not where the zealots believed they were, those Jewish expectations had been dashed. Which set him up perfectly to foment sectarian violence and fervor at the missing religious treasures. Already there had been reports of rioting in both the Jewish and Muslim sectors of the Old City at the loss.
And yet that one accomplishment of revealing the complete absence of the Temple treasures from the Temple Mount complex paled in comparison to the weight of significant religious revelation that was to come.
He smiled, pleased with himself for what he had accomplished for Nous.
And what he was about to accomplish for his religion.
Lucas felt a light tap on his left arm. He slowly opened his eyes. It was the flight attendant again.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir. But you have a phone call.”
“A phone call? How? From whom?”
“Came in on our communications receiver. It’s Mr. Borg, sir.”
Lovely.
He unbuckled his seat belt, then crossed his legs, readying himself for the engagement. “Give it here.”
The man handed the phone to Pryce, then topped off his scotch. He nodded and smiled. Good man.
“Rudolf. Good to hear from you. Is everything alright?”
“Everything is perfect. The Thirteen and Council of Five are most pleased with the progress you have made executing our interests. The Holy City is in chaos. The Messianic hopes of Judaism have been dashed. Sectarian violence has been sparked between Islam and Judaism. And so far Farhad is having the same kind of fortune, which bodes well for the greater scheme of things.”
He sighed at the mention of Farhad and his stupid side project. He had thought from the beginning that running after the so-called Passion relics was a complete distraction from the vital mission of denying Judaism their most prized religious possession and unveiling the Ark in a way that served their more pressing sectarian and religious interests.
“Is there something wrong, Pryce?”
His eyes widened suddenly with panic. He must have sighed too loudly. “N—No, Rudolf. Nothing at all. I just…I just don’t want Farhad’s work to distract us from securing the Ark and—”
"It is not a distraction, Pryce," Borg interrupted. "Far from it. From the beginning, Nous has been very clear about our objectives. And your very tiny place within them."
Pryce’s eyes narrowed. Very tiny place? That’s the way they viewed the most consequential religious find ever?
Borg continued, "Billions of people believe that the shedding of blood can appease the wrath of a vengeful God. The one thinks it's the blood of bulls and goats. The other thinks the blood of a so-called Son of Man, a man-god. Nous knows better. It is time humanity finds release from the clutches of these primitive forms of spirituality and take hold of our destiny, the one Nietzsche prophesied would rise up out of the ashes of primitive religion.
“‘Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman—a rope over an abyss…’ Master Nietzsche said through his prophet Zarathustra. It’s time we clip the rope, releasing humanity from religious bestiality in order to fully grasp the power of the Übermensch, the Overman who can rise above and beyond conventional Christian and religious morality to create and impose his own values through brute force of the inner, divine will, conjured from the divine mind. Before long, not only will we destroy the items that contain the memory of the Christian faith in the crucifixion of Jesus. We’ll also undermine it and the effects of that singular event by sowing confusion through the Ark’s revelation. And it’s quite vexing to hear you speak in a way that seems to undermine that grand vision, Pryce.”
He should have kept his mouth shut. They had parallel goals, though Lucas’s was slightly different, far more personal. Now he felt his ability to act on that goal had been jeopardized by his careless mouth.
“I apologize if I have vexed you,” he said quietly, cursing himself for the quiver in his voice.
“Oh, it is not only me you have vexed, but the entire committee and council. Isn't that right, brothers?”
Pryce trembled as he heard the grunting approval of Borg's disapproval. He must have been on speaker, his questioning of their goals plain for the upper echelon of Nous to hear. He quickly downed the rest of his scotch.
“Gentlemen…err, brothers,” Pryce started. “I meant no disrespect. I am fully committed to your vision for the Ark. I will not fail you in the final phase of our operation.”
“You better not.”
The line went silent. Pryce set the handset on his table and looked out at the clouds drifting below, unnerved by the conversation. He had known of Nous’s spiritual fervor when he had agreed to join their project after having been contacted by Borg himself. But he hadn’t truly appreciated its scope until that conversation.
No matter. Their interests served his interests. He was close, so close. He only hoped Oliver Tulu could put together the final pieces he needed to confirm the final resting place of the Ark.
And that Silas Grey kept his big, fat nose out of his business.