The Rozabal Line Part 22

'Uh . . . Sheikh . . . It seems that he has already sent those to you in a previous dispatch.'

'Ah!' remarked the Sheikh. 'Ghalib, my jihadi, you have made me proud.'

'Err . . . Sheikh . . . why do the rascals want Ghalib?'

'It's a very long story. It begins in Jerusalem . . .'

Vatican City, 2012 His Eminence was very clear. Successive American presidents had used Islam to counter the power of the Church while continuing to maintain a facade of innocence. Illuminati b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! They needed to be taught a lesson.

The phone buzzed. Thomas Manning. He was speaking rather softly. The cardinal's face turned red as he heard Manning's words, ' . . . captured . . . Megiddo . . . Mossad . . . no truck . . . in custody . . .'

His Eminence could control himself no longer. He screamed at Manning, 'Don't you realise what has happened? I wanted Ghalib alive! I compromised by allowing you to give him to me dead. The one man who could shake the very foundations of our beloved Church is now in the custody of people who would like nothing better . . . those sons of wh.o.r.es, the Illuminati!'

Balakote, Indo-Pakistan border, 2012 It was 11pm when they reached Balakote. Yehuda was tired, but Swakilki remained alert and excited-like a hunter before the kill. Yehuda pointed out Ghalib's tent from the distance. Swakilki took out the sharp Nepali kukri from its sheath under her burqa and held it lovingly in her right hand. She then stealthily moved towards Ghalib's tent.

She could make out the dim light of a kerosene lamp inside, but there were no voices. Obviously, he was asleep. She slit open the tent near the base and crawled in.

'Welcome Swakilki!' boomed the voices of Stephen Elliot and Prithviraj Singh as they quickly wrestled the knife out of her hand and held her at gunpoint.

Standing some distance away, Yehuda smiled to himself. His Illuminati masters had paid him much better than the crumbs thrown his way by His Eminence. One could not compare the paltry 30,000 transferred from Oedipus to Iscariot with the one million transferred from the UNL Militia to Iscariot. UNL Militia was just an anagram of the name of another organisation, the Illuminati.

Yehuda got back into his Mahindra Commander 650 jeep and started the long drive back to Srinagar. He needed to catch an international flight to meet his compatriots, who were already in Frederick County.

Priobskoye, Siberia, 2012 Zvi Yatom was speaking on a secure line with Stephen Elliot and Prithviraj Singh. With Ghalib in Israeli custody and with Swakilki in Indian custody, it seemed that the two key protagonists were now under their control.

'So, is the truck in place?' asked Stephen.

'Yes. The detonation will be triggered from Waziristan on 21 December 2012 by the Sheikh. He has the detonation sequence. He thinks Ghalib has managed to plant the device in Megiddo. He does not know that the entire truck has been secretly airlifted to Priobskoye,' explained Zvi.

Discovered in 1982, the Priobskoye oilfield occupied an area of 5,466 square kilometres in the Khanty-Mansiysk Autonomous District of Western Siberia. It was Russia's largest oilfield. After Saudi Arabia and the United States, Russia was now the third largest oil producer in the world. The explosion would decimate Russian oil production, leaving the largest oil reserves in the hands of Saudi Arabia and America-oil reserves owned mostly by Illuminati-controlled companies. Killing many birds with one stone was the specialty of the Illuminati.

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Goa, India, 2012 Vincent and Martha were inside the Basilica of Bom Jesus. Vincent was determined not to give up so easily. He had with him the piece of paper that Swakilki had flung at his face on the night of his kidnapping. He looked at the last line: Remember: It is enough, O Lord, it is enough, the two angels said. Mastrilli without doubt made the best silver bed. But to carefully guard a secret of the dead, Ignatius' gold cup is better than a silver bed.

And then, the penny dropped! The tomb of St Francis Xavier was a three-tiered bier that had been financed by the Duke of Tuscany in exchange for the pillow on which St Francis Xavier's head had lain for several years after his demise. On top, lay the silver casket containing Xavier's remains. The casket had been a.s.sembled by local silversmiths under the guidance of Father Marco Mastrilli. The casket was crowned by a cross with the figures of two angels holding the message 'Satis est, Domine, satis est', meaning 'It is enough, O Lord, it is enough!' These words were believed to have been the most common utterance of Saint Francis Xavier. What the lines seemed to suggest was that the secret was not with the angels or inside the casket, but with St Ignatius.

Vincent looked towards the main altar of the church. The Blessed Sacrament that had earlier been kept on the main altar under the statue of St Ignatius was now preserved in a gold tabernacle. The infant Jesus was shown under the protection of St Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus. The statue of St Ignatius was almost three metres high. But to carefully guard a secret of the dead, Ignatius' gold cup is better than a silver bed.

The infant Jesus was dressed in white and was superimposed on a red background. Vincent knew he would have to climb up on the altar to check it more thoroughly. As he stood up to balance himself, he took the support of the ma.s.sive gilded goblet upon which the statues had been supported. He was shocked to find that it was entirely hollow. Ignatius' gold cup is better than a silver bed.

He stood on his toes to peer inside the mammoth goblet and began feeling within its inner surface for any inconsistencies. The inner surface was smooth, unlike the heavily engraved outer surface. Suddenly his hand felt a crack. It was not a natural formation. It was a straight line. As his hands moved down the straight line, he found another line running at 90 degrees to the first. On a hunch, he followed the next line to find yet another. He was right! There was an inner secret panel!

'Just what do you think you are doing?' the voice echoed through the depths of the church. Vincent and Martha turned around in shock. It was Father Dias, the priest, extremely agitated to find that his altar and sacraments were being desecrated. Vincent hastily scrambled down and apologised, 'I am sorry, Father. I am also a priest and had heard so much about Bom Jesus that I wanted to observe the baby Jesus from as close as possible. Please accept my apologies.'

'If you are a man of G.o.d, then you should know better than to be disrespectful to the traditions of the Church!' argued Father Dias. However, his tone had mellowed. 'I will forgive you just this once. Please be more careful in future.'

The two culprits beat a hasty retreat. Once outside the church, Martha asked Vincent anxiously, 'Why were you so engrossed with the goblet? Did you find anything?'

Vincent replied, 'There was a secret panel inside it. As I was feeling around inside, the Father's voice jolted me and I ended up pressing on it very hard, mostly out of fright. I had no idea that the panel had a spring action and that this little piece of parchment would fall into my hand!'

'Ah! I see. That's why you could afford to be so apologetic,' commented Martha sarcastically. The two of them looked at the delicate parchment in Vincent's hands. It read: Do leste-Occidental ou Nort-Sul Que diferenca faz? Rozabal de Kanyar dorme quietamente, porque Yuz Asaf no e uma falsificaco. Tentativa 34.09 N 74.79 E.

Translated to English, it meant: East-west or north-south. What difference does it make? Rozabal of Kanyar sleeps quietly, because Yuz Asaf is no fake. Try 34.09 N 74.79 E.

Srinagar, Kashmir, India, 2012 The onset of winter in idyllic Kashmir meant that the days were gradually getting shorter. Even though it was only three in the afternoon, it felt like night was rapidly falling. Icy winter winds, having wafted through the numerous apple and cherry orchards of the area, brought a spicy and refres.h.i.+ng aromatic chill to Vincent's nostrils. The leather jacket and lambswool pullover underneath it were his only comfort as he knelt at the tomb to pray. Martha had stayed back in Goa, but Vincent had refused to lose another day.

He rubbed his hands together to keep warm as he took in the sight of the four gla.s.s walls, within which lay the wooden sarcophagus. The occupant of the tomb, however, was residing below in an inaccessible crypt. Standing in front of a Muslim cemetery, the tomb was located within an ordinary and una.s.suming structure with whitewashed walls and simple wooden fixtures.

The sign outside informed visitors that the Rozabal tomb in the Kanyar district of old Srinagar contained the body of a person called Yuz Asaf. Local land records acknowledged the existence of the tomb since A.D. 112.

The word 'Rozabal', derived from the Kashmiri term 'Rauza-Bal', meant 'Tomb of the Prophet'. According to Muslim custom, the gravestone had been placed along the north-south axis; however, a small opening revealed the true burial chamber beneath. Here one could see the sarcophagus of Yuz Asaf. It lay along the east-west axis as per Jewish custom.

East-west or north-south. What difference does it make? Rozabal of Kanyar sleeps quietly, because Yuz Asaf is no fake.

Nothing was out of the ordinary in this place. Nothing-except for the carved imprint of a pair of feet near the sarco-phagus. The feet were normal human feet. Normal-except for the fact that they bore marks on them: marks that coincided with puncture wounds from a crucifixion. Crucifixion had never been practised in Asia, so it was quite obvious that the resident of the tomb had undergone this ordeal elsewhere in some distant land.

Vincent respectfully took off his shoes and walked inside the simple structure. The old caretaker looked up at him and smiled, 'Ah! You have finally come.'

Vincent was too shocked to speak. He regained his composure and then said, 'I think you are mistaking me for someone else, sir.'

'No. I know who you are. You are the genie.'

Vincent was convinced that the old man had gone senile. 'What?' he asked.

'The genie. The one who will reveal all. The one who bore the cross of Yuz Asaf. Your work is not yet finished. The last visit here was by a Russian man. Dmitriy Novikov was his name. He found a doc.u.ment here. It was written in Aramaic and was buried in a copper tube by the side of Hazrat Yuz Asaf,' said the wrinkled face.

'So why have you been waiting for me?' asked Vincent.

'Because he left the original as well as a translation for you.'

'But Novikov would have been here in 1887. That's 125 years ago. He could not possibly have met you.'

'Ah. You are right. He met my great-grandfather, who was the grandson of Rehman Khan. Our family has been caring for this site over many generations. We have fought legal battles to remain in custody of this shrine.'

The Seal of the Justice of Islam, Mulla Fazil, 1194 A.H. In this High Court of Justice, in the Department of Learning and Piety of the Kingdom.

Present: Rehman Khan, son of Amir Khan, submits that: the kings, the n.o.bles, the ministers and the mult.i.tude come from all directions of the kingdom to pay their homage and offerings in cash and kind at the lofty and the holy shrine of Yuz Asaf, the Prophet, may G.o.d bless him.

Claims: That he is the only and absolute claimant, ent.i.tled to receive the offerings and utilise these, and none else has any right whatsoever on these offerings.

Prays: That a writ of injunction be granted to all those who interfere and others be restrained from interfering with his rights.

'And the doc.u.ment?'

'Here. Take it. It is now your responsibility. My ancestors and I have done our duty,' he said emphatically as he handed over an extremely old copper tube to Vincent.

Vincent carefully unscrewed the cap and gently pulled out three doc.u.ments. One was a very thin and old papyrus written in a language that he could not understand. The other two doc.u.ments, while aged, were in good condition and were written in English. One of the newer doc.u.ments was a letter: I, Dmitriy Novikov, set out on a historical quest to determine whether Jesus had lived in India. When I succeeded in my efforts, I was branded a liar and a traitor.

What I revealed to the world was only one part of my story: the translations of the doc.u.ments I discovered at the monastery in Hemis that spoke about a young boy, Issa, who had fled Judea to come and live and learn in India.

But as I dug deeper, I realised that the ma.n.u.scripts were merely a very small piece of the puzzle. There was a wealth of information available from multiple Hindu and Buddhist sources. Those led me to the Church of Bom Jesus where I found the clues provided by Alphonso de Castro, and finally to Rozabal, where Castro had buried the doc.u.ment that he had discovered ent.i.tled the Tarikh-Issa-Ma.s.sih, or The History of Jesus the Messiah.

It was here that I discovered that the four Gospels of the Roman Catholic faith do not do justice to the wealth of knowledge that Jesus Christ, our Lord, had imparted to mankind. While many more gospels, including Gnostic ones, will be discovered in the due course of history, I am sure that the accompanying doc.u.ment was written by Yuz Asaf before his death in Kashmir around A.D. 115.

Upon reading it, I immediately realised that it contained teachings and observations, as well as prophecies, and that these were meant for another yet to come. It was not for me to reveal these to the world, but for someone else still to come-the genie. The caretakers of Yuz Asaf's tomb are the guardians of the sacred remains of Yuz Asaf and I believe that Rehman Khan's family will be able to identify the genie correctly.

The fact that you are reading this doc.u.ment means that the chosen person is you. Please use it wisely.

Dmitriy Novikov, Srinagar, 21 May 1887 The letter was accompanied by the papyrus as well as what seemed to be an English translation of its contents that had possibly been done by Castro or Novikov: In the reign of Shalivahana, the king. Tidings of peace to Kashmir did I bring. Issa-Ma.s.sih and Miryai, my wife; bearing La Sara Kali, oh delicate life. My deeds, words and spirit were completely pure, Yuz-Asaf was my name that in this land endured. Born of a virgin, son of G.o.d, plucking for truth the pea from the pod. I helped the king repair the Solomon throne; grateful king put my name in stone. But twelve years later I told my wife, how I fear for our daughters' lives. Take them away to the land of Gaul, so that my blood may course through the veins of all. Here in Kashmir, I can live alone, and when I die, I'll rest skull and bone. I am Krestos, the Christ, the anointed one; I have travelled my life and can no longer run. I am not worthy of t.i.tles, honours, or grace; the one who is worthy is the mirrored face. Stand by the mirror and look at yourself; you are the anointed, within yourself. Simon of Cyrene was greater than I; he bore the cross of a pa.s.serby. He is worthy of the knowledge that I convey, this doc.u.ment will rest till it's again his day. One day the stone of Rozabal will rise, and will expose the treachery and the lies. Over this doc.u.ment will be earth and stones; and a decaying pile of skull and bones. Who says pagan G.o.ds are fake? For heartfelt prayer, the stone will shake. The power is within you, don't you see? How does it matter if it's also in me? Why would I make water into wine, when water quenches the thirst just fine? Why would I make a blind man see, when those who have eyes cannot feel me? Why would I walk on water, I pray, when a boatman could take me most of the way? The real miracle is in knowing yourself, and understanding the Brahman, the endless, the self. Brahma and Abraham are one and the same; glorious and endless-an eternal flame. Illuminating light is peace not power; it is this sort of madness that brings down the tower. And comprehending the wonder and miracle of life, the end is not the end, even with a knife. Prophets will write of the anti-Christ, whose tongue will evil and hate entice. My children will lose their lives over me, my chosen twelve shall die, so it shall be. There is no anti-Christ divined. The anti-Christ is in your heart and mind. December twenty-first, two-thousand and twelve, no end is near, no further delve. Because there is no beginning and no end; it's an endless road without a bend. You take great pains to search for me, when I am within you, it's plain to see. I need no temples and mortar and stone; I need only your awareness of spirit alone. Miracles are things that happen each day; the greatest is the blessing when you pray. You are my genie, revealing me; use these verses as a key. Take my shekels in your hand, see the pyramid in the sand. See it better than the all-seeing eye, see it better than the bird up high. Count the steps up to the top, count the leaves and fruit in the crop. Count the arrows to put them in slumber, count your armour of equal number. And when they have fallen, riddled with scars, make sure that they count the number of stars. And when death knocks and destiny brings, shade and fan them with my wings. My plumes on both sides will protect, count them over to be correct. Count the language inside the beak, count the language above the peak, now count me and my apostles meek. And when you emerge and see the trees, please do consider what will make you free. Thirteen Cycles. One and Three. The Maya called it the Sacred Tree. I just call it the Sacred Three. Brahma, Vishnu and s.h.i.+va are Three. Lakshmi, Kali and Saraswati. The third eye that the Hindus see. The lines of a triangle in trinity. Christian, Muslim, Illuminati. The first two fight, the third waits to see. How much destruction can there possibly be?

Vincent fell to the ground and kissed the pages reverentially. He then hastened to the market where he could get the precious doc.u.ment photocopied. Photocopying done, he started walking towards the bus terminal, hoping that he could catch the bus out of Srinagar into Delhi. He was so completely absorbed in his own private little world that he did not notice General Prithviraj Singh coming up behind him till he felt the Mauser pressed against his back.

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

Srinagar, Kashmir, India, 2012 'Well done, Father Sinclair. I knew I was right to involve you in this matter. We finally have the doc.u.ment that the Illuminati has spent the last few hundred years searching for!' exclaimed Prithviraj Singh, while continuing to hold the gun against Vincent's spine.

'You, General, are no better than Osama-bin-Laden. The terrorist, in fact, is merely a p.a.w.n that you move on your Illuminati chessboard!' hissed Vincent.

'So you think I am evil, huh? And what about Opus Dei? What about the Crux Decussata Permuta? Do you think that any religion other than Catholicism would have been allowed to survive on earth if they had their way? And what about the true believers of Islam? You think they would have left non-believers alone? We are the only force that could keep these forces in check! How dare you judge me!' thundered the general.

Vincent shot back, 'You cannot fight fire with fire. The best way to fight a fire is with water, General. Instead, you and your cronies have been throwing in fuel to keep the fires raging. It has been in your interest to keep the fires of hatred burning. Your approach is a thin veil that hides your greed for money and power. It is the powerful elite of this world that has created the Osamas of the world to further their own self-interest. You are a hypocrite!'

'Why are we arguing? We're both after the same thing. We have found it. Let us revel in the find,' said the general.

'But why should this doc.u.ment be of importance to you?' asked Vincent.

'Because it is the very basis on which the Illuminati was founded. This doc.u.ment that you call the Tarikh-Issa-Ma.s.sih, is actually the Gnostic Gospel of Jesus. It was written by Jesus sometime in the last few days of his life. When he was in Kashmir.'

'But I thought that the Illuminati was a recent creation. The Bavarian Illuminati came into existence only in 1776. How can you say this doc.u.ment could have anything to do with your organisation?'

'Father Sinclair, let me explain. Jesus did not die on the cross. In fact, his suspension on the cross was merely a "ritual slaying" that had to be performed by Mary Magdalene, the high priestess, as part of the sacred Hieros Gamos.'

'How does this concern you or the Illuminati?'

'Jesus had already said that the illuminating light came from within. He was a great yogi, a great guru. But this aspect of his teaching would not have created a great religion. How would the Church have controlled its flock? So what did they do? They branded Mary Magdalene a prost.i.tute. They "killed" Jesus on the cross. Instead of explaining the resurrection of the soul, they created the resurrection of Jesus's body. Instead of the ancient yogic trinity of the creator, nurturer and destroyer, they created the Christian trinity of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Most important, salvation was to be obtained only through

their Church!'

'I still don't get it.'

'Wake up, Father! Jesus talks in his gospel of opposites. Good must have bad. Hot must have cold. Positive must have negative. Male must have female, and so on. We, the Illuminati, decided that Christ must have an anti-Christ. This anti-Christ will bring down the Roman Catholic Church, once and for all!'

'But the same gospel that we have just found says that there is no anti-Christ! It says that illuminating light should be used for wisdom and inner peace, not power!'

'Ah! You now know why I need that doc.u.ment. I need to destroy it!' shouted Prithviraj.

'The words of Jesus have been twisted and perverted throughout history. You plan to do exactly that. I will not let history repeat itself!'

'Then you must die!'

Waziristan, Pakistan-Afghanistan border, 2012 The Sheikh was looking at the message sent by Ghalib containing the detonation sequence. He re-read the words without a mirror once again and then proceeded to ignore all the characters other than 'O' and 'I': UOY.OT.HTAO.YM.MAMI.HO.

OWT.MOTA.TA.MOTA.TIH.OT.

HT33T.3HT.TA.MIA.HTUOM.3HT.TA.MIA.

TA3H.TOH.3TIHW.HTIW.YAWA.MIH.TIH.

3OW.OT.MIH.3IT.YOT.YM.HTIW.3YA.

3WO.I.HTUOY.YM.MIHW.YHT.OT.

3M.HTIW.TUO.MIH.HTIW.TUO.

3M.3SIMOTA.OT.3MIT.YHT.TIAWA.I.

The resultant series was: 00010 00010 101 01111 001101 01010 10110 100111.

These were binary numbers, just the sort used by computers to transmit data. He took a pen and began to convert the binary numbers to standard decimal numbers.The result: 2-2-5-15-13-10-22-39.

He now had before him the detonation sequence. He picked up the Thuraya satellite phone that would communicate with the device and began to carefully punch in the digits. The digits entered by him were transported to the geostationary Inmarsat satellite from where they would be bounced back to another phone on earth. That phone would activate the bomb. Not in Priobskoye, Siberia, as imagined by Zvi Yatom.

But in the rocky landscape of Waziristan, just a hundred yards away from where the Sheikh stood.

The fireball from the x-ray-heated air sent a shockwave in all directions at the speed of sound. The frugal houses scattered in the arid and remote frontier simply dissolved. The circle of destruction was around one mile. Everything that was flammable burst into flame, gla.s.s products and sand melted into molten gla.s.s, and any humans were instantly vaporised by the blinding light, accompanied by radiant heat from the fireball near ground zero.

Around 2,000 people would be killed directly from the blast at the hypocenter and an equal number would be injured. The future impact would include nuclear fallout, cancer, and deformed or stillborn babies.