I don’t think you appreciate the delicacy of the situation, David,” Ben Gurion said. They sat alone late that night, in David’s own apartment, sipping wine. It was the least Solomon could offer his old friend. “You have Goldstein tied in a knot.”
“Has he talked?” Solomon asked.
“No. But he threatened to call the Egyptians in an effort to close the borders.” He paused. “I made a call to Lerner, down at the university. He tells me that the Ark cannot be in Egypt. It’s impossible.”
“Lerner? This is the same man who agreed with the Muslim Waqf that bulldozing the entrance to Solomon’s Stables was not threatening to antiquities? I’m surprised you would call him much less listen.”
“He’s also Israel’s leading authority on archaeology—”
“No, Zakkai is Israel’s leading authority on archaeology. And Zakkai is finding it hard to sleep these days, trust me.”
“So, you do have Zakkai in on this. Lerner guessed as much.” Ben Gurion shook his head. “If what you say is true, David, I’m not sure I disagree with Goldstein’s suggestion to close the border.”
“It would be paramount to turning the Ark over to the Muslims. First we give up our Temple Mount and now you would give up the Ark? What’s next—Judaism? You’re determined to make a name for yourself in the history books. The man who put Judaism in the grave once and for all.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ben Gurion eyed him carefully. “And the alternative would be leading our country into war; you know that. Goldstein may be godless, but he’s no idiot.” The prime minister stood and walked to the same window David had gazed through while the old blind priest had spun his tale nearly a week ago now.
“How long have we known each other, David?”
“Since the war in ’67.”
“Over thirty years. We have come a long way in thirty years.”
“We’ve come nowhere,” Solomon said. “We were closer to our objective then than we are now.”
The prime minister turned to face him. “Yes, it all depends on the objective, doesn’t it? I don’t expect you to ever agree with me ideologically—I will concern myself with building a nation and you may concern yourself with building a people prepared for the Messiah. But we both must be very careful not to wipe out ten million Jews in the process.”
Solomon didn’t respond. It was old ground, covered a dozen times over the years. More talk seemed pointless.
“I must know how likely it is that you will actually find the relic, David.”
“You mean the Ark—it’s not just a relic. Assume it done.”
“You have it?”
“No. But assume I will in a matter of days. And if I don’t, consider this a dry run, because one day I will.”
“There are no dry runs with the Ark. Our neighbors will explode if they even think we have it.”
Solomon ignored the point. “You have two choices: you’ll either give the Ark to our enemies and destroy Judaism’s foundation, or you’ll allow me to unveil it and risk war.”
Ben Gurion sighed. “Yes.”
“Let me help remove the confusion which might surround these two options. What Goldstein and his group of bandits don’t realize is that we are surrounded by enemies because of who we are, not because of our policies. Nothing will ever change the fact that we are Jews. Unless we all become Muslims and change the name of our country, we will be Israel, and as Israel we will always be the enemy. Neither the Temple nor the Ark will bring war—it is who we are that will bring war! All the Ark would do is reaffirm who we are, and this will bring war.”
“I’m not sure I see how this makes the matter any less confusing.”
“Don’t you see, Simon . . . Israel and her neighbors are destined for war either way. I’m saying you’re not faced with a decision of war or no war— that’s out of your control. The only question is whether you want to enter the next war with the Ark or against the Ark.”
Ben Gurion raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t believe in the power of the Ark? It handled Jericho quite nicely.”
“It doesn’t matter whether I believe in the power of the Ark, does it? There are enough Jews who do, and they won’t like the idea of taking tanks into battle against the Ark. Is that it?”
Solomon nodded. “Close enough.”
“So you’re saying that war is inevitable either way, and it would be a mistake to allow the Ark to fall into enemy hands. I agree. How about giving it to a third party?”
“Put it in an American museum? Absurd. It’s our heritage! War would still come. No, you must have it in your hands. There is no other way.”
“But you’re wrong. There is another way. Leave the Ark. Simply don’t find it. As long as it’s hidden, it poses no problem.”
“And if we wouldn’t have resurrected the nation of Israel, we wouldn’t have the problem of protecting it, would we? You can’t hide the truth just because you don’t want to face it. You don’t just sweep God under the rug because he gives you a headache.”
“Then you’re basically insisting on war.”
“I didn’t commission the building of the Ark, my friend. God did. If his instrument brings war, so be it. I insist on nothing but to do his will. Perhaps you should take this up with him. He is accepting prayers at the Western Wall, below the Al-Aqsa Mosque, from what I hear.”
“Please don’t patronize me. I’m not your enemy—you have plenty of those as it is.”
Solomon turned from him and sighed. “You’re right, forgive me.” He stood and joined the prime minister by the window. They looked out to the Temple Mount together.
“I see you keep your goal clearly in view,” Ben Gurion said.
Solomon nodded. “I need your help, Simon. If I find the Ark, I want you to help me bring it in safely.”
“I would rather you didn’t find it.”
“Yes, but that’s beyond my control now.” He thought briefly about Rebecca’s missing status and a barb pulled at his chest. He could only pray that she was safe. He would like to say that Rebecca had been in much worse situations and could handle herself easily, but he didn’t know the situation in the desert. Zakkai and the others were giving birth to cows, waiting for her call. They’d come to a standstill. Without Caleb, the prime minister would get his wish.
“I could put you under arrest,” Ben Gurion said.
“You could, but that would stop nothing. It’s simply a matter of managing the inevitable now.”
“The Knesset—”
“I will deal with the Knesset,” Solomon interrupted.
The prime minister arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“It’s getting the Ark into the country that concerns me.”
Ben Gurion stared at him. “I may need a submarine,” Solomon said.
“Through Eilat?”
“If there is any trouble, it would be safer than through the Sinai.”
Ben Gurion set his glass down and turned for the door. “I’ll give it some thought. I’m not sure whether or not you’re doing a terrible thing, David. But I think that when the dust settles, most of the world will conclude it is a terrible thing.”
“Half the world already thinks that our God is a terrible thing.”