It took David Ben Solomon twenty-five minutes to track down the exact location of the prime minister, primarily due to an overprotective administrative assistant who obviously had little regard for Solomon. It took another twenty minutes to drive to the Hyatt, where the prime minister was speaking to a large gathering of Arab Israelis, of all things.
Solomon couldn’t remember feeling as elated as he did walking through the revolving door. Not only was his daughter alive, but she and Zakkai had accomplished their mission. It was news that made him weak in the knees.
The cameras were out in force, and Ben Gurion was speaking with a volume to match. Solomon pushed his way past the security and strode down the center aisle, past five hundred important Arab businessmen who’d gathered to hear how all Israeli citizens, including Arab Israelis, made Israel, Israel—an oxymoron in Solomon’s eyes.
He knew that he was out of place, marching down the aisle dressed in a flowing tunic, frowning like a prophet, but he shoved the thought from his mind. Israel’s future was at stake. Zakkai’s call had sent a quiver through his nerves, and it had not abated. This meeting in the Hyatt was a joke next to the information he now possessed.
Solomon walked right to the front, past the cameras, and only then thought it might be better to step to one side, out of the camera’s view. But he discarded the notion and walked straight up the steps that led to the platform.
Several black-suited security men stepped forward, but he reached the podium first. Ben Gurion’s speech stalled.
“Simon, we need to talk,” Solomon said.
His approach had frozen the politicians behind the prime minister. A security man reached Solomon and placed a hand on his arm. The prime minister just stared, completely off guard.
“We have it!” Solomon whispered.
Ben Gurion blinked.
The security detail leaned forward. “I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to leave the platform—”
“Leave him,” Ben Gurion said.
The guard stepped back.
Ben Gurion faced the crowd. “You’ll forgive me . . . I am evidently . . . needed. I have said what I came to say anyway. As long as I am the prime minister of Israel, we will regard every Israeli citizen as the same.” He had lost his flare.
Solomon stood with his back to the crowd and caught the defense minister, Benjamin Yishai’s, glare. Your life is about to be turned on its head by your enemies, Benjamin Yishai. And I am not your enemy. Stop glaring like an idiot. Solomon nearly said it aloud.
“Thank you.” The prime minister dipped his head and turned from the podium. The crowd hesitated, then offered a smattering of applause.
“This better be good, David,” Ben Gurion snapped. “You either have the courage of a madman or the sense of a fool.”
“But it is good. And it’s terrible, depending on who you are.”
“I’m the prime minister. And so far it feels terrible.” He glanced at the others and walked past them, waving off another security man. His face was ashen. They walked towards a suite in the back. Ben Gurion’s chief of staff hurried to catch them.
“Sir? You can’t—”
“Not now, Moshen. Give me five minutes,” he snapped.
They entered an empty suite decked out Hyatt style with high-back chairs and burgundy drapes. Solomon shut the door and faced the prime minister.
Ben Gurion looked at him, unblinking. “What, Solomon? What precisely have you found?”
“The Ark.”
Their eyes locked for an inordinate time, while the words spun through Ben Gurion’s mind. “What do you mean . . . the Ark? You actually have the original Ark of the Covenant?”
“Yes. We actually have the original Ark of the Covenant.”
Ben Gurion turned to the table where he lifted a flask of amber-colored liqueur and poured a drink. “And how do you know this . . . that this is the Ark? You found something that looks like the Ark?”
“No, Simon. We have the Ark. And I know it’s the Ark because Zakkai is there and he told me himself that there isn’t the slightest doubt.”
“Where?”
“In northern Ethiopia—”
“I thought you said Egypt.”
“Yes. But it’s in northern Ethiopia, in the bowels of an ancient monastery. Exactly where we thought we would find it. Do you realize what this means?” He could not contain the grin that spread over his face.
Ben Gurion frowned and tossed back his drink. “Actually, I don’t know what it means. I do know that it’s hardly something to grin about.”
“We have the Ark, for God’s sake!”
“No, we have nothing but a report that the Ark’s been found. Meanwhile, Islam does indeed occupy the Temple Mount which is where the Ark would belong if it actually were to show up! It is a bad mixture.”
“Yes, Islam holds the Temple Mount. That’s the point, isn’t it? But we have another problem.”
“This whole thing has been a problem from the beginning. Dear God, if I had actually thought you might find the thing, I might have sent the army in to stop you!”
“Then you wouldn’t have been the only one.”
Ben Gurion twisted to face him. “What do you mean?”
“The Arabs. My people were followed. There’s a unit of Syrian Republican Guard around the monastery as we speak.”
“What!” Spittle flew with the word.
“Don’t worry, they have no idea we have the Ark.”
“Don’t worry? Why didn’t you tell me that the Syrians were involved?”
“They weren’t involved! The Palestinians were involved, and they managed to pull the Syrians in for support. At least that’s the best we can make of it. And as I said, they have no idea that we have the Ark.”
“So you’re telling me that a band of Jews have actually discovered the Ark of the Covenant in Ethiopia and are surrounded by Syrian commandos. And you have the audacity to suggest I not worry?”
“I can’t imagine a better situation! We have the Ark, for God’s sake!”
“So you’ve told me.” He took a breath. “So you have the Ark. What now?”
“We can’t let them have the Ark; that’s what now. Under no circumstances can we allow the Arabs—”
“I know we can’t let them have the Ark!” Ben Gurion turned back to the table, poured another drink, and stormed over to the window that overlooked the Old City to the south. “Dear God, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”
Solomon felt almost giddy. For nearly half a century he had dreamed of this day. The power was intoxicating. They could say what they wanted— they could wiggle and they could scream, but they could not deny the Ark. Its very existence trumped any possible political device.
“It’s in a monastery? We should drop a dozen thousand-pound bombs on that monastery,” the prime minister said. “You know that, don’t you, David?”
“So you’ve said. Or throw it into the sea. But you can’t blow up God and expect to survive.”
The prime minister turned from the window. “You’re absolutely sure about this?”
“Yes. I am. We have the Ark. And now we have no choice but to bring it to Jerusalem. For that we need your submarine.”
The prime minister shook his head in disbelief. “Now you’re the most powerful man in Israel; is that it?”
“Something like that. It would seem that I have God on my side now. You could be King Ahab and send out the ministers and we could have a showdown on Mount Carmel, but we both know who would win, don’t we?”
The prime minister just stared at him.
“Can I have one of the submarines?”
“You can’t just bring the Ark into Jerusalem and parade it down the street.”
“I didn’t have that in mind.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Solomon hesitated. “Call a meeting of the leaders and I will tell you all what I have in mind. In the meantime, for God’s sake, give me a submarine. We have three in the Red Sea, doing nothing. I need it off Massawa tomorrow. We don’t have time. My people must leave tonight if they hope to escape.”
“Can your people escape?”
“We don’t have a choice, do we?”
The prime minister leaned against the window sill and ran a hand through his short gray hair. The door suddenly opened and an aide stood in the opening. “Sir—”
“Out! Get out!” Ben Gurion boomed.
The aide beat a hasty retreat.
Ben Gurion took a deep breath and faced the window.
“I need to know, Simon,” Solomon said.
“I don’t like to be cornered.” He turned back. “Okay, you have your submarine. I’ll call Admiral Bird myself. This could lead to war; you do realize that?”
“It will only lead where God intends it to lead. We’ve been at war for two thousand years, if not with guns then with our souls. In 1948 we found a piece of real estate we could call home. Now we are about to find God again, and the cost is God’s to decide, not mine.”
“I will have to tell Goldstein and the others.”
Solomon didn’t respond.
“We will meet at my offices at nine in the morning,” Ben Gurion said.
“That will be fine.”
“You realize that once on the submarine, the Ark will be in my possession?”
“I’ll have to trust you with that, Simon. And you must know that my people have independent documentation that no one will be able to silence. If you destroy the Ark, the world will know.” It was the weakest link in Solomon’s plan, but he had his own contingencies in order.
Ben Gurion walked to the phone and dialed a number. He spoke quickly to the admiral and then hung up.
“He’s expecting a call from you.” The prime minister handed Solomon a slip of paper with a private phone number on it. “Work out the details with him.”
“Thank you, Simon.”
“Wait a few days before thanking me. You just make sure the wrong people don’t get their hands on . . . that thing. God help us all if the Arabs find out that we have it.”
“They won’t.”
Solomon left and hurried for his car. He pulled out a notebook, found a phone number, and quickly dialed it. A voice answered in Hebrew.
“We have the submarine,” Solomon said.
The voice hesitated. “So, it’s happening.”
“Yes. We need your help, Admiral. One of the other admirals, Bird, is in charge. But the Ark must not be handed over to the government. Not yet. It has to stay in our hands.”
“Don’t worry, David. I don’t need persuading. We will have our Ark.
Dear God, I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
“Believe it, Moshen. It’s happening. Just make sure Admiral Bird doesn’t get in the way.”
“He won’t.”