James BeauSeigneur - In His Image James

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.