Offering
New York
Alice Bernley and Robert Milner strolled slowly past the huge wall of ivy along Raoul Wallenberg Walk, their pace giving no hint of the excitement they felt as they talked of the events of the past few weeks. "It's all coming together; I can feel it," Alice said. "Even if I weren't here to see it for myself, I think that I would still feel it. Hell," she said, after a moment, "I could be on the moon and I'd still know." Milner smiled. He did not doubt her supposition for a moment. He could feel it too. "I've gotten calls and letters, e-mail and faxes from people all over the world. They can sense we're on the very brink of the New Age," Bernley continued.
"Yes. Some of that concerns me, though. I'm afraid there are those who would like to rush its advent. We cannot allow that."
"No one else knows about Christopher?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"No. At least not that I know of. If our friends on the Security Council knew, they'd try to make him Secretary-General right now." Milner was speaking hypothetically but Bernley took him seriously.
"We can't allow that," she said.
"No, of course not. The time simply isn't right. No, I don't think anyone else knows about Christopher. At least not yet. But many obviously do know that you and I know something."
"Yes," Bernley said, her mood shifting back to enthusiasm. "I've gotten calls from people and groups I've never even heard of. All of them want to know what they should do."
"And what do you tell them?"
"I tell them to organize, add to their number, spread the word that the arrival of the New Age is near. And to wait."
"Good advice," said Milner.
Ahead of them on the walk stood a tall thin man with graying hair, wearing a tailor-cut European suit. He was flanked by two very large men, both easily twice his weight. The eyes of the larger men were hidden by sunglasses, but the thin man stared directly at them. Had Milner and Bemley not been so involved in their conversation they would have noticed the men long before. Their combined swath blocked nearly the whole walk. They did not seem menacing, but they did appear determined.
"Secretary Milner?" the thin man asked.
"Yes."
"Ms. Alice Bemley?"
"Yes."
"I have a letter for you," the man said as he handed an envelope to Bernley. The man had spoken only a few words, but Milner, who had traveled to every corner of the world, recognized his accent at once. Most would have guessed French, but there was more. It was rougher, more guttural than a true French accent. There were also strong traces of German. The man was obviously a native of Alsace-Lorraine, that region of France which between the years of 1870 to 1945 had traded hands between the French and Germans five times. Milner wasn't sure, but he could think of only one item of business which would bring this man of Alsace-Lorraine to this meeting in the park.
Bernley opened the envelope and began to read the letter inside. "Bob, look!" she said, holding up the letter for him to see as she continued to read.
Milner read. It was as he had suspected, but it was important not to appear too eager. Impressions could be critical. "Please convey our appreciation," Milner said as soon as he was sure of the letter's content, but without reading it in its entirety. He knew Alice could be very excitable and he wanted to be the first to speak.
"You will take delivery of the package, then?" the thin man asked.
"Yes," Milner answered calmly.
"Yes, of course we will," Bernley said, in a much more animated tone. "We would be delighted to… " From the corner of her eye she caught the disturbed look on Robert Milner's face, and let her sentence trail off. She recognized it at once as the look he gave when he thought she was getting too ardent. Not that he wasn't just as excited as she; it just wasn't always prudent to show it.
"Where would you like it delivered?"
Milner thought quickly and answered with the most obvious place: "The Lucius Trust at the U.K. Plaz… " Milner stopped himself. It didn't make sense to ship it across the Atlantic only to ship it back for its final delivery. "No," he said. "Have it delivered to the Italian Embassy in Tel Aviv."
"We will need some assistance getting it through customs," the man said.
"Of course," Milner answered.
"You can expect delivery in one week, if that is acceptable to you."
"Yes, that would be fine," said Milner.
The man reached in his pocket and retrieved a key ring with four keys. "You will be needing these," he said without further explanation. "Ms. Bernley, Secretary Milner," he said as he nodded in farewell, and without another word, the three men walked away. Milner now looked at the letter more closely.
We believe that a certain item in our possession for a number of years may prove useful to your current enterprise. At your request -we -would be most ' gratified to surrender the item to you to use at your discretion.
The letter went on to give specifics on the delivery of the 'item' and to note that there were certain precautions to be observed in the transport and 'handling' of the item, of which the writer was sure they would be aware.
Bernley had been right: it was all coming together. "I knew they would contact us," said Milner. "It was just a matter of time."
Wednesday, July 31, 2019 – Tiviarius, Israel
"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" Rabbi Eleazar ben David asked Scott Rosen as he sat down in his favorite chair. The rabbi's study was a little darker than Scott liked: one of the bulbs was out and there was no natural lighting because the room's only window, like every other wall in the room, was hidden by tightly packed bookshelves. It was quite an impressive collection of books, some in each of the three languages the rabbi spoke fluently.
"I'm concerned about Joel," Scott began.
"Joel Felsberg?" Rabbi ben David interrupted.
"Yes," Scott confirmed.
"I haven't seen Joel since the last time the three of us went to the Jerusalem Symphony. How is he? Is there anything wrong?"
"That's why I'm here. He came up to the Temple yesterday to find me. He was running and waving his arms," (Scott was exaggerating), "and yelling 'I've found him! I've found him!' I told him to calm down and asked what he was talking about, and he said he had seen the Messiah."
The rabbi raised an eyebrow at this but the reaction seemed more to convey introspection than trepidation. The rabbi's expression gave Scott the impression that he hadn't been listening. "Rabbi?" he said, seeking confirmation that the rabbi had heard what he was saying.
"The Messiah?" he asked after a moment.
"Yes."
"Did he say where he had seen him?"
"In a dream, but he's convinced that it was more than that. I guess he thinks it was some kind of vision."
"Hmm," he said, and there was that look of introspection again. He paused for several seconds and then asked, "Can we be sure it wasn't?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"Why?" asked the rabbi.
Scott frowned and looked pained to have to answer. "I hate to even say it," he said. Rabbi ben David waited. "Apparently, whatever he saw in his dream has convinced him that Jesus, or 'Yeshua' as he called him, was the Messiah." This time the rabbi both raised his eyebrows and pushed out his lower lip. Clearly he was surprised, but there was no indication that he was appalled. Scott had expected a much stronger, or at least quicker, response. The rabbi seemed lost in thought. Obviously, he had something on his mind. Another man might have asked him about his distraction, but not Scott. He had never been one to openly show concern about other people. He was much happier with a room full of computers than a room full of people. The fact that he was here showing concern for Joel Felsberg gave witness to how close the two men were.
"Well, what should I do?" Scott asked, waving his hands to make his point and hoping to draw the rabbi's attention back to the subject.
"About what?"
"About Joel," Scott said, still waving his hands, but now it was out of frustration.
"I don't think there's anything you can do. If it was just a dream he'll get over it. Just try to be patient with him."
"What do you mean if it was just a dream?" Scott asked in disbelief.
The rabbi scooted forward in his seat. "Well, it's interesting that he should have this dream at this particular time." Scott was still too surprised to notice, but the rabbi no longer seemed distracted. "My studies have recently brought me to a rather interesting passage. Let me read it to you." The rabbi took his reading glasses and a book from the coffee table beside his chair and opened to a place he had bookmarked. Then he began:
"Who can believe what we have heard?
Upon whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
For he has grown, by His favor, like a tree-crown,
Like a tree-trunk out of arid ground.
He had no form or beauty, that we should look at him:
No charm, that we should find him pleasing.
He was despised, shunned by men,
A man of suffering, familiar with disease.
As one who hid his face from us,
He was despised, we held him of no account.
Yet it was our sickness that he was bearing,
Our suffering that he endured.
We accounted him plagued,
Smitten and afflicted by God;
But he was wounded because of our sins,
Crushed because of our iniquities.
He bore the chastisement that made us whole,
And by his bruises we were healed.
We all went astray like sheep,
Each going his own way; And the Lord visited upon him
The guilt of all of us."
"Rabbi," Scott interrupted, "why are you reading me this?" "Just listen," the rabbi answered. Scott did not understand why a rabbi would be reading from what was obviously a passage from the Christian New Testament, but he had more respect than to challenge him just yet. The rabbi continued:
He was maltreated, yet he was submissive,
He did not open his mouth;
Like a sheep being led to slaughter,
Like a ewe, dumb before those who shear her,
He did not open his mouth.
By oppressive judgment he was taken away,
Who could describe his abode?
For he was cut off from the land of the living
Through the sin of My people, who deserved the punishment.
And his grave was set among the wicked,
And with the rich, in his death -
Though he had done no injustice
And had spoken no falsehood.
But the Lord chose to crush him by disease,
That, if he made himself an offering for guilt,
He might see offspring and have long life,
And that through him the Lord's purpose might prosper.
Out of his anguish he shall see it;
He shall enjoy it to the full through his devotion.
My righteous servant makes the many righteous,
It is their punishment that he bears;
Assuredly, I will give him the many as his portion,
He shall receive the multitude as his spoil.
For he exposed himself to death
And was numbered among the sinners,
Whereas he bore the guilt of the many
And made intercession for sinners. "
Scott wasn't sure whether the rabbi was finished but he had no desire to hear anymore. "Why have you read this to me?" he asked.
"What do you think?" the rabbi asked in return, ignoring Scott's question for the moment.
"I think that the Christian writers do a poor job of imitating the style of the Jewish prophets."
The rabbi smiled broadly. It wasn't exactly the answer he had expected but it made the point. "Why do you assume that these are Christian scriptures?"
Scott still wasn't sure what the rabbi was up to but the teaching style of question and answer brought back his days in Hebrew school. The rabbi must be using this to make some point about Joel's delusion, he thought. "Well," Scott answered, as if he were in a classroom, "there are two reasons. First of all, the writer is obviously writing about Jesus: all that business about being wounded because of our sins and crushed because of our iniquities. That's a Christian belief – that Jesus was a substitutionary sacrifice for the sins of mankind. It is obvious that this is one of their scriptures trying to convince the reader that Jesus was the Messiah."
"Is that what it is saying?" the rabbi asked before Scott could get to his second point.
"Of course. It's obvious. It could be nothing else."
"And the second reason?"
"Second," said Scott, "is that I have never heard nor read that passage before. If it was from the prophets I would have heard it read in synagogue."
Rabbi ben David leaned forward and handed the still-opened book to Scott. Sitting back again in his chair, he crossed his hands on his stomach and exhaled audibly through his thick gray beard. Scott found the passage quickly; it was well marked. Then he looked at the top of the page: it read 'Isaiah.' Suddenly his eyes filled with rage. "Were the Christians not satisfied to add their writings to the back of our Bible with their so-called 'New' Testament?! Have they now begun inserting their lies into the very text of the Tenach?! Where did you purchase this? We must put a stop to it immediately before others are deceived!"
"As you can see," the rabbi said, flipping to the title page, "this is translated according to Masoretic text and was published by the Jewish Publication Society of America. What I read you is in your Bible, too, Scott. You can go home and look."
"That's impossible. My Bible was given to me by my grandfather. The Christians could not have… "
"Those are the words of the prophet Isaiah, Scott."
Scott's eyes grew wide with bewilderment. "But why have I never heard this before?"
"You have never heard it because that passage is never read in the synagogue. It does not appear in any rabbinic anthology of synagogue readings for the Sabbath. It is always passed over."
"But who can the prophet be talking about?"
The scrutiny of the rabbi's stare turned Scott's question back to him.
"But it can't be. The prophet must be speaking in allegory."
"Perhaps. In rabbinic school, when I was young and believed everything I was told, they covered this passage briefly and they taught us that Isaiah was speaking allegorically of Israel. But if the 'he' the prophecy speaks of is Israel, who then is the 'we'? Clearly there are two parties spoken of. And if the 'he' is Israel, then whose sins – whose iniquities – is it we have borne? Who is it that was healed by our wounds?
"'He was cut off from the land of the living through the sins of My people,'" the rabbi continued, reciting a piece of what he had just read. "Is it not Israel who are God's people? And if Israel is God's people, and 'he' was cut off from the land of the living through our sins, who is the 'he'?" Rabbi ben David frowned and concluded: "So we are back to the same question: to whom does the prophet refer?"
"But what about the part about dying from disease? Jesus was supposed to have been crucified," said Scott.
"In truth," Rabbi ben David answered, "that wording is a very selective translation. You can see right here," he said, pointing to the editor's note at the bottom of the page from which he had just read, "the meaning of the original Hebrew is uncertain. 'Disease' was just a guess. But even with that, who can miss what the prophet is saying?"
Scott did not answer.
The rabbi sighed. "So there is the reason for my distraction," he said, "and the reason I find Joel's dream, or at least the timing of it, so curious. You see, it was because of a dream that I recently read that portion of Isaiah. It was not so colorful a dream as the one Joel described. I'm not even sure I was asleep. I just kept hearing a voice calling my name and telling me to read the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah. I was as astounded as you when I read it. I could not understand how I could have so long ignored what you have just said is so obvious; allegory simply cannot explain the striking similarity. If ever a prophecy were exactly fulfilled, then this… " The rabbi stopped himself from saying more. "Well," he continued, "so now I find myself in a dilemma. As you have said, it is obvious of whom the prophet seems to be speaking, and yet, I cannot allow myself to admit it, but," he said, and then paused, "neither can I bring myself to deny it."
Thursday, August 1,2019 – New York
The Security Council was called to order to assess the progress toward reaching a compromise on a new Secretary-General. Although there was still a long way to go before a decision, substantial movement had occurred. The first major change was the withdrawal of the candidacy of the ambassador from Saudi Arabia. It quickly became clear that certain other regional representatives, particularly India, simply would not accept an Islamic Secretary-General and since the selection had to be unanimous, the Saudi ambassador had bowed out. In doing so, he made it clear that whoever was ultimately chosen would have to pay a price for the Islamic region's spirit of compromise and cooperation. The representatives of East and West Africa who had supported the Saudi were then approached by the American and the Japanese ambassadors for their support, but both were reluctant to support either.
After some late-night deliberations between the supporters of Japanese Ambassador Tanaka and the Africans, French Ambassador Albert Moore had asked the representative of West Africa whom he could support. An hour later, after private discussions between the East and West Africans, they had come back with the answer that they could support the representative of Northern Asia, Ambassador Yuri Kruszkegin. Moore relayed the information and the next morning Tanaka withdrew and threw his support to Kruszkegin.
In the meantime, however, the Saudi, who represented the Middle East, had agreed to support Ambassador Clark of the United States. When the Security Council adjourned, the vote was five for Kruszkegin, four for the American Clark, and as before, China abstained. The issue was tabled for seven more days.
Sunday, August 11,2019 – Jerusalem
The black stretch limousine of the Italian ambassador to Israel, Paulo D'Agostino, pulled past the security barriers and stopped outside the front entrance of the Israeli Knesset. Accompanying D'Agostino were Christopher Goodman, Robert Milner, and Milner's guest, Alice Bernley. Close behind the limo, security personnel from the Italian embassy followed in an armored truck carrying a large wooden crate which had recently been delivered to the embassy from Alsace-Lorraine, France.
Inside the Knesset building, in the office of the prime minister, Israel's High Priest Chaim Levin and two Levite attendants had just arrived and were exchanging pleasantries with the prime minister and the minister of foreign affairs while they awaited the arrival of their guests.
"Thank you very much for coming, Rabbi," the prime minister told the High Priest.
"I am always willing to be of service to Israel," the New York-born High Priest answered. "But tell me, have they still not said why it was so important that I attend this meeting, and why of all days, it had to be today?"
"No, Rabbi. The purpose of the meeting is to allow the new Italian ambassador to the United Nations an opportunity to present arguments for renegotiating our treaty with the U.N.: nothing that should concern you, and, I might add, nothing that really concerns me. The old treaty has lapsed and, while I admit it has a few flaws, I am reluctant to agree to any new negotiations. I would have refused this meeting altogether but for the fact that it was requested by former U.N. Assistant Secretary-General Robert Milner, a man of some influence with ties to American bankers. As for why he asked that you be invited and why it had to be on this day, I do not know. He said only that they will be bringing something with them that you will want to see."
The meeting was soon underway and Christopher began to address those assembled. Alice Bernley was the only woman in the room. It was a little awkward explaining her attendance in an official meeting of state, but there was no way that Bernley would allow this moment to pass without her. Christopher was careful to be brief and to the point. He well knew that all of the arguments he would make about the treaty had been made before, but that was not the real reason for this meeting anyway. Still, it was necessary that Christopher offer a clear explanation of the treaty's purpose and the reasons the U.N. believed that a new treaty – not just an extension of the old one – was required. The duration of the proposed treaty would be seven years, and would allow the parties, upon their mutual agreement, to extend its effect for three additional periods of seven years each. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the treaty, just typical matters of state. The only thing of even passing interest was a provision for a mutual agreement of non-aggression. Even this was included primarily as a diplomatic formality. Israel certainly had no intention of attacking anyone, and after seventy-one years as a nation under constant threat of war, while it still had problems with terrorism, it had established itself militarily as a nation which none of its neighbors would consider attacking.
Christopher's summary presentation lasted only about fifteen minutes. He was prepared to answer questions but none were asked.
Apparently the prime minister wanted to get through this as quickly as possible.
"Ambassador Goodman," the prime minister said as soon as it was clear there were no questions, "I am sometimes praised for speaking candidly and other times criticized for being too blunt. Either way, it is the way I am. I hope you will not take offense. What you have said, though eloquent and well reasoned, has all been said before. And what was lacking before is still lacking, which is to say an apple will always lack the qualities that would make it an orange. You offer us an apple and make guarantees that we will like it as much as an orange. We, on the other hand, are happy with the orange we have. We do not seek guarantees that we will come away from the conference table satisfied with the agreements contained in a new treaty; we are satisfied with the old one. We find no compelling cause in what you have said to alter that position."
"I appreciate your position," Christopher answered, "and your frank response. I hope that you also appreciate frankness." Christopher spoke quickly, not wanting to offer an opportunity for interruption. He was about to get to the real reason for this meeting. "What separates us on this issue is not the need for formal extension of agreements in the old treaty. I'm sure we both recognize the importance of the formalization of agreements for the protection of all concerned. Neither is there disagreement on the issues involved. Diplomatic immunity, transport of diplomatic packages without interference, and mutually held agreements of non-aggression are hardly controversial issues. What separates us, Mr. Prime Minister, is trust.
"In ancient times," Christopher continued, "such diplomatic logjams were broken by an exchange of gifts. I would not be so naive as to believe that your assent could be bought in such a manner, and yet I recognize the precedent and so come bearing gifts." Christopher, who was already standing, walked to the room's entrance and opened the large double doors in a bit of grand display which he was sure would be excused when they learned what he had brought.
In the hallway outside, four unarmed Italian security guards stood watch around a wooden crate about the size of a small freezer which sat about three feet above the ground on a very sturdy-looking metal table with wheels. Christopher signaled to the one in charge, and the four men rolled the table and crate into the room and then left, closing the double doors behind them.
The crate was built of cedar and was itself a work of art, more a display case than a simple crate. The four sides were hinged at the bottom to allow the sides to fold down to display the contents. At the top middle of each side was a locking mechanism which held the sides securely shut. From his pocket Christopher took a set of four keys. "I do not ask for anything in return," he said, "for with the giving of this gift I gain as well. What I gain is hope. Hope that the level of trust between us may grow and that we may, through that trust, come to achieve those things which of necessity, governments must accomplish in order to conduct themselves in a manner consistent with the rule of law."
Christopher's words could be viewed in basically two different ways: it was either an eloquent plea for something which no reasonable person could refuse to grant; or it was a bunch of flowery tripe. Either way, it gave Christopher what he wanted: a chance to state once again what he was after, for if anything he had said thus far was tripe, it was that he was not asking anything in return for this gift. He was certain the prime minister was smart enough to realize this. And if his last words were counted as tripe as well, it made no difference: what they were about to see was of such importance to the people of Israel that nothing they might possibly concede in a new treaty could compare to what they had gained here.
Christopher took the keys and moved quickly to each of the four locks, opening each in the order directed in the letter that had been delivered to Alice Bernley and Robert Milner. As he opened the last lock, he moved back and it became clear just how special this crate really was. On a three-second delay after the opening of the fourth lock, eight pistons simultaneously slid through hydraulic cylinders, allowing the four sides of the crate to drop slowly open. The top was supported by the frame against which the four sides had been sealed. Except for Christopher, who was already standing, and Alice Bernley, who knew what was inside and so stood to get a better look, everyone else in the room was seated and it was not until the sides were about halfway open that anyone caught a glimpse of what was inside. As they did, their eyes grew wide and all rose to their feet. For a moment no one spoke. Each just stood and stared in awe. And then there was a sound, almost a shriek from the back of the room. The younger of the High Priest's two Levite attendants had raised his hands as if to shield himself and ran from the room screaming something in Hebrew.
The reaction of the Levite made the prime minister catch himself. For a moment he had almost believed it to be real. Now he was sure he knew better. "It is a very nice reproduction, Mr. Ambassador," the prime minister said to Christopher, as he sat back down. He spoke very loudly, casting his voice in the direction of his foreign minister and the High Priest, with the intent of bringing them back to reality. "I'm sure one of our museums will be very glad to accept it. It must have cost someone a good deal of money."
The prime minister's words had the effect he hoped for. The foreign minister, the High Priest, and finally the High Priest's remaining attendant all came to realize that this must be a reproduction. There was certainly no possibility that it was the real Ark of the Covenant. It couldn't be. The Ark had not been seen for thousands of years. Still, it seemed a singularly impressive reproduction. The craftsmanship and care that had gone into its creation were astonishing.
"I assure you, Mr. Prime Minister, it is indeed the Ark of the Covenant." The speaker was Alice Bernley. Her voice was very confident and her words matter-of-fact. It was the first time she had spoken since the introductions. She knew her presence at the meeting was inappropriate: she represented no government, she was simply an observer, and now she was no longer an unobtrusive one. She didn't wait for an answer. She didn't give a damn about what the prime minister thought. Her only interest was in seeing the Ark and she moved closer to get a better look.
"Alice is correct, Mr. Prime Minister," Milner said.
The prime minister laughed. "Mr. Milner, I don't doubt your sincerity and I appreciate whatever effort you went to in order to procure this for us, but this simply cannot be the true Ark of the Covenant."
Christopher had let the conversation go on without him long enough. "Mr. Prime Minister, I am well aware of the significance of this day in your nation's history. It is Tisha B 'Av, a day of fasting, the day history records that both your first and second temples were destroyed. It was no accident that I chose today for this meeting. I chose it to offer your people a sign and symbol of hope for the future, that on this day of all days there is hope for all the people of the earth, if only we will cooperate and work together. What you see here, Mr. Prime Minister," Christopher concluded, pointing with his open hand to the Ark, "is the Ark of the Covenant. It is not a reproduction, it is not an imitation. It is real!"
"Mr. Ambassador!" the prime minister said, raising his voice, "Do you take us for fools?!"
"We can prove that it is authentic," Christopher answered emphatically, but without raising his voice.
"How?!" demanded the prime minister.
"By the Ark's contents."
Suddenly the prime minister fell silent. The suggestion surprised him. Of course; they could look inside. The validation process would be so simple. So simple, in fact, that maybe there was something to the Italian ambassador's claim after all. "Okay," he said. "Let's look inside." Almost as soon as he said it, the prime minister realized that if this was the real Ark, it wouldn't be proper to do that.
"Oh no, Mr. Prime Minister," Christopher said. "That's not exactly what I meant. It would not be safe for just anyone to open the Ark. According to the scriptures, because the men of the city of Beth Shemesh looked into the Ark, 50,070 died."
"Well, then how shall we see inside?" he asked.
"Only the High Priest should open the Ark." The prime minister looked at the High Priest, who nodded, indicating that at least in general, Christopher was right.
"It does pose some problems," the High Priest began in response to the question on the prime minister's face. He moved closer to the prime minister, Christopher, and Milner; leaving Bernley to examine the Ark unnoticed. It was all the same to her; she had no interest in what was being said. "If it is truly the Ark," the High Priest continued, "then it should be opened only in the Temple. And yet if it is not the Ark then it would be an abomination to place it in the Holy of Holies to be opened, especially since we're not sure what's inside. Perhaps it could be brought inside the Temple but not… "
Suddenly a brief but blood-curdling scream filled the room. Behind them Alice Bernley's lifeless body crumpled and fell, her head hitting the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. "Alice!" Milner cried as he ran to her.
"What happened?!" asked the prime minister.
The remaining attendant of the High Priest, who had seen what happened, looked as if he were in shock. "She… she touched the Ark," he answered.
The Italian ambassador to Israel, Paulo D'Agostino, who had stayed quiet until this point, ran to the door and shouted for someone to call a doctor.
Robert Milner, finding no pulse, desperately began CPR. A state doctor assigned to the Knesset was there within seconds. He began emergency procedures even as Bernley was being put on a stretcher to be taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. It would be another twenty minutes before she was officially pronounced dead.
As her body was taken from the room, followed by a weeping Robert Milner, the High Priest Chaim Levin quoted something from the Bible:
The Lord's anger burned against Uzzah, and he struck him down because he had put his hand on the ark
The prime minister looked back and forth from the High Priest to the Ark and to the others in the room. The Levite read madly through his Siddur, the traditional prayer book containing prayers for almost every imaginable occasion. He could find nothing for this moment. Christopher went to the Ark and carefully closed up the sides of the wooden crate to prevent anyone else from suffering Bernley's fate. Finally, the prime minister spoke, "The High Priest will examine your Ark, Mr. Goodman. And if it is, in fact, the Ark of the Lord, you shall have your treaty and the gratitude of the people of Israel."