The Newton Code Read online

  The

  Newton Code

  A Mystery Thriller

  Liam Fialkov

  Copyright © 2019 Liam Fialkov

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  https://www.facebook.com/liam.fialkov.77

  [email protected]

  Contents

  The

  Newton Code

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Bibliography

  Chapter 1

  Jerusalem 1002 BC

  Young Yerubaal didn’t want to die.

  He wasn’t even ten years old, and he loved life. He loved strolling in the trails around his village, investigating the world as it was waking up to a cool morning. He loved listening to the birds, nesting in the old oak trees. He loved sneaking at nights, hiding in the darkness, and secretly eavesdropping on the grownups and the elders, as they were sitting around the campfire. He listened as they discussed important matters and also told stories of the ancient past. As young as he was, he could sometime tell when the accounts were slipping into exaggerations, as they overly glorified victories in wars with their neighbors.

  He still didn’t celebrate ten springs of life, and he already knew who was his favorite girl. It was the charming Bat-Ashtoreth, with the long black hair, shiny and curly, and the large, cheerful brown eyes. When he looked at her, with her graceful and agile movements, she reminded him of an antelope. More than anything, he loved listening to the chime of her laughter, and he knew that next to her, he would want to wake up in his adult life.

  With his little brother, Ben-Reshef, he used to wander around the pathways, joyfully climbing big rocks. In a few of the rocks, the tribe people carved crevices which they used for making wine, which he was not allowed to drink. During the grape harvest, they used to pile the grapes in the crevices; and then walked, stepped, and pressed the grapes with their bare feet.

  There was one huge rock, a massive one, which they didn’t carve and didn’t use for winemaking. He was told that the rock, which was located on the threshing floor of a man named Araunah was sacred, so the children were not allowed to play there.

  Every once in awhile, Yerubaal was present in ceremonies, where he saw the tribe’s high priest slaughtering animals, mostly lambs and partridges, on the big rock, which they called “the drinking stone.” It was a sacrifice to the gods, so he was told, and he wondered why they had to kill innocent animals in order to please the gods.

  Yerubaal heard whispers alluding that in the distant past, his people used to sacrifice people as well, especially boys. Apprehensively, he asked his father if it was true, but his father asserted that for many years, the Jebusites are content with animals’ sacrifices.

  Recently, the Jebusites were facing a formidable enemy that threatened their actual survival. Young Yerubaal knew that his tribe had fallen into an extremely hard time, but he couldn’t imagine that of all people in his tribe, it would be him who would be required to pay the ultimate price.

  He heard his father discussing matters with his neighbor, Baal-Shalem, talking about yet another kingdom and another fortified city that fell into the hands of the large tribe, ‘the Hebrews,’ that was slowly gaining control over his country, the land of Cnaan. Yerubaal heard that Lachish had fallen and also Hebron, both were allies of the Jebusites. All the people of his tribe recognized that it was only a matter of time before the king of the Hebrews, David was his name, will set his intention to Jebus, Yerubaal’s beloved town.

  One night, he secretly listened to his parents’ conversation.

  “I’m afraid,” his mother said, “so afraid I can’t fall asleep at nights.”

  “You need not worry, Bat-Shahar,” his father tried to calm her. “You know that our town is very well fortified, and it is located up on the mountain; that’s why they couldn’t conquer it in the past when other kingdoms fell one after the other.”

  “But now it’s a different situation,” his mother said. “I’ve heard from Bat-Ashra that heard from her husband, who is a crony of the high priest, that of all places, David chose to set his capital here.”

  “Which is why we have to pray and call our gods,” his father said, “to sacrifice animals, and hope that the gods, Baal and Ashtoreth, will be on our side and protect us.”

  Indeed, on the following days, Yerubaal saw how the high priest and his helpers had significantly increased the rate of animal sacrifice, which has become a daily occurrence.

  Chapter 2

  Stop!!!

  Where are you heading?

  The message took most of the computer screens. White font over a dark background, a nice-looking font, actually, and an ornament of some kind at the bottom’s right side. But no one had time to admire the carefully styled message, because everyone was busy absorbing its meaning: an unmistaken computer freeze.

  “Damn it!” the sigh spanned throughout the country as frantic and annoyed users hurried to restart their computers—their lifeline connection to the world.

  They would all forget about it within a short time, and by the evening, it would be like the incident had never happened, unless the stubborn message remained when the computers were back and running. The same message: “Stop!!! Where are you heading?”

  Frustrated users reached for their phones. They had to get to the computer guy or someone in the IT department who would help them get back to work, so they could continue to advance their all-important tasks.

  But most phones didn’t work either, except internal lines, and the tech support personnel, if they were reached, could not provide any rescue to the crisis. “We’re checking,” was the common answer. “It looks like a virus,” some of them volunteered the obvious answer.

  All over the US, computers and most phones came to a standstill rendering their owners helpless. The halt occurred exactly at 1 P.M. eastern time, and it affected all branches of the government as well as most of the private sector. As it turned out, the halt affected traffic street lights that switched into a blinking yellow all over the country, but it didn’t affect control towers in airports, nor did it disturb the train system. The only instit
ution completely spared from the freeze were hospitals.

  And then, all of a sudden, after exactly thirteen minutes of scare, everything went back to normal.

  “What on earth was that?” was the question on everyone’s mind.

  By the evening, it was mostly forgotten, except for a mention in the evening news, where most channels hosted technological specialists. However, the experts had to admit that none of them, and none of the government agencies, was able to trace the source of the mysterious freeze, so they gave a general explanation about computer viruses and other malware.

  Hardly anybody paid attention to the ornament that appeared along with the message. It looked like a beautifully shaped gold color wooden box with decorative carvings. Two poles were attached to the box, one on each side as if they were there for the purpose of carrying it. On top of the box, there were sculptures of two golden winged creatures, though it was hard to discern whether they were birds or perhaps seraphim.

  Among those who paid attention to the decoration, there were only a few who recognized what it was: an unmistaken image of The Ark of the Covenant.

  Chapter 3

  The phone rang.

  Michael[1] glanced at his phone—on the table in front of him—and was surprised to see the name, Stewart McPherson.

  “Stewart?” he didn’t hide his surprise.

  “That’s me,” answered the veteran journalist. “How is life in the world of academia?”

  “It pays the bills,” Michael answered, “and it’s comfortable.”

  “But not too exciting, isn’t it?” McPherson probed.

  “True,” Michael said.

  “And what are your plans for the upcoming summer?”

  “Why? You want me to go somewhere undercover?” Michael sounded amused.

  “It’s possible,” McPherson somberly answered.

  “But Stewart,” Michael was apprehensive, “I thought I made it clear that I’m not spy material.”

  “You also made it clear that you are a person of high integrity, and someone I could count on.”

  “What is it this time?” Michael sounded reluctant. “What conspiracy are you trying to unearth?”

  “I can’t discuss it over the phone,” McPherson said. “This time, the stakes could be much higher.”

  “Higher?” Michael was amazed. “Higher than spying on my employer?”

  “Well, don’t forget that you also had a great deal of satisfaction performing that assignment.” The Journalist reminded him.

  “Clearly, you’re right,” Michael acknowledged. He remembered that he got to play music in a band as part of his assignment, the same band where he is still a member, and with whom he’s playing most weekends. He also met Melany, his wife, while being on the assignment that McPherson had sent him to. “Is it something to do with the media world?” Michael questioned.

  “Probably not,” McPherson said with a grave tone of voice. “This time, I need you to help me prevent a world war.”

  Chapter 4

  “Long time no see,” McPherson smiled. He warmly shook Michael’s hand and tapped him on the shoulder. About one week after McPherson’s call, the two of them met at a café, not far from the university where Michael held a teaching position,

  “Glad to meet you, Stewart,” Michael responded. Has it really been that long? Michael wondered when he noticed the changes in his friend’s face, who’s hair was now completely grey, and the wrinkles in his face deepened.

  After their phone conversation, Michael reflected on his previous collaboration with his esteemed colleague, about five years earlier. He realized that while he performed his task somewhat reluctantly, there was something about the mission of going undercover that he liked. Maybe it was the danger that excited him, or perhaps the idea of working on something big and being chosen for the job by the respected journalist. He regarded McPherson as a courageous fighter against corruption, worthy of being a role model. Now, while his initial response was that of hesitance, he realized that he actually looked forward to ‘some action’ that would pull him out of his routine, comfortable way of life.

  Michael liked his life. He felt fortunate about finding his direction in the field of journalism, teaching investigative reporting. He felt blessed for finding Melanie, his true love, blessed for the life they had built together, and for their daughter, Linda. Michael was grateful also for finding his biological Mom after years of yearning, and he didn’t forget McPherson’s help in tracking her down. He treasured his friends and the rock ’n’ roll band, where he played on weekends. But every once in a while, this comfortable lifestyle drove him uncomfortable. Deep inside of him, he wondered whether he had settled down too soon and whether this was all that he expected out of life. So, McPherson’s call came at the right time, and he eagerly looked forward to the meeting.

  “You sounded mysterious,” Michael said to McPherson. They sat at a corner table at a late morning hour, and the café was nearly empty.

  “Do you remember our last collaboration?” McPherson asked.

  The waitress came by, and both of them ordered an espresso and a croissant.

  “How can I forget,” Michael said. “Sometimes, I wonder where I would be if you didn’t recruit me to that spying mission.”

  “You probably remember,” McPherson said, “that I didn’t ask you to approach anyone directly, but devised a way by which you would attract Lindsey, so that he would approach you.”

  “I remember,” Michael said. “I had to play the guitar. I think that’s why I accepted the assignment.”

  “I’m asking you to proceed similar manner,” McPherson said, and took a sip of his coffee.

  “You want me to play the guitar?” Michael sounded surprised. He took a bite of his croissant.

  “Well, not this time,” McPherson answered. “But first,” he cleared his throat, “I want to be clear that I’m reaching out to you because it is something that I couldn’t do on my own, because I’m too famous and too recognizable.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Michael looked in his eyes and smiled.

  “I want you to go online.” McPherson smiled.

  “Online?”

  “Not just online, but to specific web sites that I’ll give you, where certain people meet and exchange information. Try to sound interested in their theories, learn all you can about their agenda, and wait until they approach you.”

  “Who are those certain people?” Michael asked.

  “Isaac Newton,” McPherson smiled and tasted his croissant.

  “Newton?” Michael was surprised. “He’s the one who’ll start a world war?”

  “From now on,” McPherson somberly said, “we have to be utterly discrete about this mission.”

  “Fine,” Michael said, as he realized that he was talking somewhat loudly and carelessly in a public place.

  “What do you know about Sir Isaac Newton?” McPherson asked directly.

  “Not a whole lot,” Michael acknowledged. “I know that he was one of the greatest scientists of all time. He pioneered the field of calculus, and of course, he is known for developing the theory of gravitation.”

  “And much more,” McPherson said. “He also laid the foundations for classical mechanics as well as established the field of optics. He was instrumental in founding the laws of motion, and calculated the tides, the trajectories of comets, the speed of sound, and much, much more.”

  “Quite a capable guy,” Michael nodded.

  “But with all of his recognized achievements,” McPherson continued, “there’s a lot of information about Newton that is not widely known, and perhaps even hidden from the general public.”

  “Like what?” Michael was curious.

  “Newton dedicated much of his time to alchemy, to metaphysics, and to unorthodox biblical theories.”

  “Sounds a bit strange,” Michael pondered the information, “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “I have a list of some online resources for you to stud
y, and groups you should try to mingle with. You’d have to convince them that you are genuine, and don’t be surprised if they are suspicious toward you, at least in the beginning. Now the important part, which at the moment is the focus of this unofficial investigation,” McPherson examined Michael with a piercing look. “You’d need to learn Newton’s theories regarding the first Jewish temple in Jerusalem, and about the ark of the covenant.”

  “The first Jewish temple?” Michael wanted to be clear.

  “There were two temples, built on the exact same spot in Jerusalem, both of them destroyed,” McPherson confirmed. “The first one is also known as the temple of Solomon since it was built by King Solomon. There is plenty of information about it in the Old Testament, as well as on the internet.” McPherson pulled a small notebook out of his pocket, and with his pen, he scribbled quickly onto the notebook. He then tore the page, folded it, and handed it over to Michael, who was amused by the ritualistic gesture. Michael unfolded the paper to read the content. It was just a number: 2520.

  “Find out what you can about this number,” McPherson said.

  “I’ll do my best,” Michael promised. “And by the way, how is Irene doing? Please give her my regards.”

  “She’s fine,” McPherson nodded. He appreciated Michael for showing concern about his personal life and not seeing him just as a professional colleague.

  “Like me, your wife is also a university teacher.” Michael chatted as he was finishing his coffee. Michael met Irene, McPherson’s second wife, when he was invited to their small, modest wedding.

  “Irene is on a sabbatical,” McPherson said. “So, she’s helping me on some projects because as you know, my computer skills are somewhat limited.”

  They got up from their chairs and headed for the exit. “One last thing,” McPherson wanted to emphasize, “be extremely cautious, these people are religious fanatics who are willing to bring on a world war. You must not trigger their suspicion.”