Alex Lukeman - The Cup

The chauffeur touched his ear. Then he opened the door.

Nick climbed in and the door closed. A minute later, the car began to move. Adam's electronically distorted voice came over the speaker.

"Good morning, Nick. I see you have brought the Grail with you."

"Then it is the Grail," Nick said. "The real deal."

"Oh yes, as you say, the real deal. Within that box is the cup held by Joseph of Arimathea at the crucifixion of Jesus."

"We haven't been able to open it."

"Are you sure you want to see what's in the box? Things change when one is permitted to view the Grail."

"Of course I want to see it. Lots of people got killed looking for it. There's a lot of blood on this box."

"That is the nature of life. Some things require sacrifice."

"Spare me the backseat philosophy," Nick said. "Good men died for this. I don't think they intended to be a sacrifice."

"Not consciously, perhaps. Sometimes there is a deeper purpose at work that goes beyond what we recognize at an outer level. It motivates us at unexpected moments to do unexpected things."

"Are you saying we're not in control of our lives?"

"Do you honestly think you're in control?"

"Within a reasonable limit, sure. Maybe I can't control things like natural disasters and crazy political leaders who start a war, but in the actions of my life, yes. I have responsibility for what happens to me."

"Responsibility and control are not the same thing," Adam said. "You are a very responsible man, Nick, otherwise you would not have been chosen for the tasks that have been set to you."

"Set by who? What do you mean?"

Nick felt the wooden box in his lap move. With a series of clicks the top lifted up and the sides fell away. Nick looked down. The Grail lay inside, on a bed of pure, red silk.

The limousine vanished.

He was standing in a large crowd, all of them looking at something. Some in the crowd seemed angry, others were crying. He was dressed in a course woolen robe that reached almost to his feet. He looked down in confusion. Instead of shoes, he wore leather sandals.

What the hell?

He looked up and saw where he was.

Not possible. This isn't possible.

He was on the Hill of Golgotha. Three crosses rose against an ominous, darkening sky.

Not possible, he thought again. This can't be happening.

His eyes moved to the central figure, slumped in agony, head dropped forward onto his chest. A group had gathered at the foot of the cross. A man dressed in fine clothes held up a cup to catch the blood dripping down.

Sudden warmth exploded in Nick's chest, like a sun bursting open. He looked at the man dying on the cross and a great wave of sadness swept over him. Unbidden tears ran down his cheeks.

His life started to unfold before his eyes. He watched himself being born, watched the boy he had been growing up, the anguish with his father, the fear and sadness of his mother. He saw all the people he'd ever loved or hated, remembered thoughtless decisions he'd made that had caused people pain, moments of kindness he'd managed to scrape together. He couldn't control it. It was as though someone had pulled a plug and he was draining away through it.

The world as he knew it crumbled away as he watched. What he thought he believed in. Who he thought he was. Why he was doing the things he was doing.

It felt as though he'd fallen off a cliff.

When it stopped, he didn't know how long he'd been sitting there in the back of that car. He felt exposed, shaken to the core. The box on his lap was closed. The Grail was no longer visible. He took a deep breath and exhaled. His face was wet.

"Do you understand now?"

Adam's voice was gentle.

"No. Yes. I'm not sure."

"You don't need to analyze it," Adam said. "In time, it will work its way into your life."

"I'm not religious," Nick said.

"You don't have to be religious to experience what just happened. The intensity will fade, but you will never forget. That is what is important."

"I feel different," Nick said.

"I told you things would change if you saw the Grail."

The drawer in the compartment divider slid open.

"Please," Adam said.

Nick put the box in the drawer. It slid closed and in a moment opened again. The box was still there.

"You don't want to take it?" Nick asked.

"That is not the same box," Adam said. "It appears to be identical and if it is scanned, it will look the same. But if someone attempts to open it by force it will break into pieces, along with the cup inside it. Give it back to Director Hood. There's no need to tell him it's not the one you brought back from Syria."

Nick held it up. "It looks exactly the same."

"Yes it does, doesn't it? With that you will avoid a lot of unanswerable questions and satisfy the needs of your president to know that the Grail has been recovered."

Nick thought for a moment. "I don't know what to tell Selena."

"You'll know what to say when the time comes."

The car came to a halt. In a moment the passenger door opened.

"Goodbye, Nick."

He was back in front of his building. Everything seemed bathed in light, brighter, clearer to him. He got out of the car. The chauffeur closed the door and got back in.

Nick stood on the sidewalk and watched the Cadillac disappear in the distance.

Many of the places described in these pages are real. Sumela monastery is now a tourist attraction. Mor Gabriel is still a functioning Syriac monastery and is under immense pressure from the Turkish government to give up most of its property.

Darraya is under siege at the time of this writing and may have fallen by the time this book reaches your hands. The hidden library is real and was created by students as a place of refuge and learning with materials salvaged from the ruins of what was once a beautiful city. As far as I know, the library is not located under the ruins of a Syriac church, nor is there a hidden crypt containing a mysterious box at that location.

The legend of the Grail is woven into the collective fabric of the Christian West. Whether the cup exists or not, it is an enduring symbol of the power of something greater than ourselves that exists beyond our limited perception. The Grail can point the way to healing of mind and spirit, regardless of our individual religious beliefs.

The story of King Arthur, his Knights, and their quest for the Grail emerged in the Middle Ages. It was a dark time in history. Life expectancy was short. Violence and death were always waiting, whether you were rich or poor. Nothing was certain, nothing was secure.

The tale of King Arthur and the Grail is a spiritual teaching, encouraging us to seek the nurturing source of spirit. It was also darn good entertainment back then, sitting around the fire and listening to the minstrel. The story has it all. Love, hate, courageous deeds, fearsome enemies, burdensome duties, incest, betrayal and lust; all can be found in the legend. All of it centered around the quest for redemption and healing.

I hope you have enjoyed this book.

Alex Lukeman

August, 2016

My wife, Gayle, as always.

Thanks to Neil Jackson for another excellent cover.

Finally, thanks to you, the reader.

Alex Lukeman writes action/adventure thrillers featuring a covert intelligence unit called the PROJECT. Alex is a former Marine and psychotherapist and uses his experience of the military and human nature to inform his work. He likes riding old, fast motorcycles and playing guitar, usually not at the same time. You can email him at alex@alexlukeman.com. He loves hearing from readers and promises he will get back to you.