THIRTY-FIVE

 

His whole life had been leading up to this moment. A quarter of a century had passed, and the dream that had begun in a movie theater was about to reach fruition. George Pierce was about to make the greatest discovery in the history of archaeology.

He looked down at the GPS display on the phone. A red pin marked the coordinates Dourado had uploaded. A blue arrow marked his phone’s location. The two were nearly touching.

He pulled the car to the side of the road and shut off the engine. The Mount Nebo overlook was behind them, less than a mile away. Pierce could distinguish the church and the sculpture of the Brazen Serpent silhouetted against the azure sky. In front of them, the slope fell away, descending three thousand feet to the blue waters of the Dead Sea, the lowest point on the Earth’s surface, 1,407 feet below sea level. The pinned location was just two hundred feet north of the road, a spot that could not have been less remarkable.

There was nothing there to suggest a cave, but as Dourado had indicated, that was the point.

With Fiona and Gallo in tow, he started out across the arid ground, watching as the arrow tip moved ever closer to the red pin. Closer.

A message flashed across the top of the screen.

 

You have arrived at your destination.

 

Pierce took a deep breath, savoring the moment, then turned to Fiona. “Anything?”

She shook her head.

He frowned. “Nothing at all? Did you try it with the sphere?”

Fiona held up the orb and waggled it in front of his face. “Zip. Nada. Nothing. Just like on Mount Sinai.”

She compressed the memory metal into a smaller crumple—about the size of a ping pong ball—and shoved it into her pocket.

“Let’s try the GPR,” Pierce said, discouraged, but not ready to give up.

He shrugged out of the backpack and took out the Groundshark. The ground penetrating radar would reveal any tunnels or void spaces up to ten feet below the surface. “Keep an eye out,” he said. “I’d rather not have to explain what we’re doing to any curious passersby.”

He was not certain who owned the land on which they now stood. A ground penetrating radar survey was considered only marginally less invasive than actual digging, and if their activities were reported to the authorities the consequences would be severe. Pierce’s professional reputation and UN affiliation would make matters worse.

Gallo turned toward the mountain, the likeliest place from which they might be observed. “All clear for now.”

Pierce switched on the unit and knelt down, sweeping it back and forth. The display showed a dense subsurface—solid rock just below the thin layer of compacted sediment. He covered the target area and then started working outward, expanding the search area one square yard at a time. As he did, he felt less like Indiana Jones and more like a desperate treasure hunter with a metal detector and a crazy dream.

He should have known better. Numerology was just an elaborate form of pareidolia, seeing patterns where none truly existed.

Sacred cubits and recurring numbers, my a—

Hold on.

He stopped, then went back and swept the last section again, eyes riveted to the image on the screen.

“There’s a void here!”