The Brotherhood Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF Page B

time I was playing with our lives. Now, today, it seems so irresponsible. Then . . . well . . . I guess I was caught up in the thrill of the chase.”
    Bohannon stopped and looked at Manthey. “You know, Stew, I never thought we would get under the Temple Mount. I mean, that was impossible, right? But there we were, wandering around in the tunnels, crossing underground lakes, pursued by Israeli soldiers and Islamic terrorists.” Bohannon shook his head. “And we found it . . . we found the Third Temple, hidden there for a thousand years. Then, it was one miracle after another. Krupp’s crew was there, repairing the collapsed Eastern wall; they got us on their plane, and, within hours, we’re in Krupp’s Bavarian estate trying to figure out what to do with the evidence of the Temple’s existence.”
    Bohannon started walking again, shaking his head, oblivious to the colors and aromas all around him. “Everybody thought it would mean war—the president, the Israelis thought news of the Temple would drive the Arab states to war. But peace? Peace, Stew. They signed it . . . they all signed the treaty and decades of war and death were over.”
    Bohannon found himself at the gate leading out of the garden. He stopped, and turned around to see where he had been.
    “For a month. They had the hope of peace for one month, and a signed peace treaty for a couple of hours,” said Bohannon. “Then the earthquake hit and everything above and below the Temple Mount was destroyed—along with the peace. Now”—he turned back to face Manthey—“the Middle East is worse than ever. Winthrop is dead. Thousands have died in Jerusalem . . . for what? Why? What was the point? And, you know what? It’s my fault. I’m the one who was ‘called,’ who felt I was on a mission from God. I’m the one who didn’t want to give up, to quit, because I was having so much fun. I was the hero . . . Now what am I?”
    He sensed Manthey was searching for a suitable answer. None came.
    “I just want to get back to normal,” said Bohannon. “I thank God this is over. That we all got back here in one piece—Joe, Sammy, and Doc. I just want to get back to normal again.”
    They came to the traffic light at Chrystie Street. “Just plain old Tom,” Bohannon said as they crossed the street and walked under one of the ubiquitoussidewalk bridges—protective scaffolds—that was being erected over the sidewalk along Rivington Street. “But, you know what?” Bohannon turned to face Manthey. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be normal again. I just can’t seem to shake—”
    Bohannon felt Manthey’s hands on the shoulders of his shirt before it could register in his brain what was happening. His back slammed against the wall of the building to his left as one of the steel, bracing beams from the overhead scaffolding flashed past his ear, swinging like a pendulum at the end of a long chain. As the beam swung upward, it pierced the plywood flooring of the completed section of the sidewalk bridge, and stuck there, sending a violent shudder through the rest of the structure.
    Stew Manthey still had both fists wrapped up in his shirt as Bohannon glanced up at the rogue beam. “See,” Bohannon said, “I need to get back to normal before I walk into a truck.”

4
    S ATURDAY , J ULY 25
    Jerusalem
    “Don’t tell me it can’t be done.” Gideon Goldsmith pounded his fist against the map on the wall. “You tell Baruk that it must be done. The city of Jerusalem has been decimated. Five thousand people are dead and tens of thousands are living in tents. And he’s worried about political repercussions?” The mayor of Jerusalem, as small and nondescript as his position, pounded the map once again, as if noise would add to his argument.
    “My city needs healing. My people need healing. Leaving this city with a gaping wound in its heart only invites more disaster. We must rebuild the Mount.”
    General Moishe Orhlon, Israel’s defense minister,