Ark of Blood

Chapter 3

3

George Washington Masonic Memorial, Alexandria, Washington DC, USA. 5.47am

Maria Estes loved this time of day, when the streets were empty enough to walk freely, before tourists with clumsy maps thronged the city. As she walked, she gave thanks to God for her family and for America, for the new life she had here and for her job.

She loved being part of the cleaning team for the Memorial. It made her feel connected to this land, where immigrants just like her had come to try and build something better for their lives. Although it wasn’t one of the most high profile monuments in Washington, it was still visited by tourists every day and she loved to think of her efforts being part of their experience.

Those who traveled out to the suburb of Alexandria were certainly devoted to learning more about one of their Founding Fathers. Maria hadn’t known much about the Masons before she had started this job but she had been slowly reading the information panels in the museum as she worked. She now understood that the Masons were a God-fearing, community-minded brotherhood who had acquired a bad reputation through scandalous rumor. The great George Washington had been a lifelong Mason, as were many men of his time.

Maria had learned that at his inauguration, Washington took the oath of office on a Masonic Bible. He had sat for his official portrait in Masonic regalia and was eventually buried with full Masonic honors. And in 1793, as Acting Grand Master, he had even laid the cornerstone for the capital city of the United States, designed according to Masonic principles. Four US Presidents had since sworn their incoming oath on George Washington’s Inaugural Bible, and Masons still held positions of power in the US government.

Glancing at her watch, Maria increased her pace, pushing herself up the undulating path that traversed the grassy terraces leading to the Memorial. It bordered a huge plaque with square and compasses and the letter G in the middle that she knew stood for Geometry, representing the Architect, the great Creator.

She sent up a quick prayer as she scurried past. ‘My work for you, Lord,’ she thought as she looked up at the Memorial. Maria watched the sun touch the three storey tower, large bay windows reflecting its light.

The classical facade was supported by six Doric pillars, fitting for the austere monument, the first of the three sections representing strength. Ionic columns in the middle section represented wisdom and the Corinthian columns near the top were for beauty. The cap of the tower was a pyramid with a flame inspired by the Egyptian Lighthouse at Pharos. It had guided ships through the Mediterranean into the port at Alexandria, for the Masonic Memorial was meant to light the way for the truth of the Masonic tenets.

Maria went in the back entrance, opening the heavy door with her key. She would be first here as usual but other cleaners and guards would arrive soon. She liked to get started early, preferring hard work to small talk, and she followed the same routine of cleaning every morning. Sometimes she found herself finished without even realizing the time had gone by, for the ritual had become automatic.

In the years she had worked at the Memorial, the place had become deeply wound into Maria’s core. She knew intimately the temperature changes of the seasons, how the wooden artifacts needed extra care in the damp weather. She knew the characteristic smell of the halls.

Today she sensed something was wrong.

She couldn’t quite identify it but there was a hint of a dark atmosphere, resonant of fear and death. It hung in the air, a malevolent presence, and Maria shivered. Leaving her cleaning materials, she decided to walk around the memorial to see if she could find the source.

Maria checked the North Lodge and South Lodge rooms as well as the exhibit display areas, but they were empty and smelled fresh, as did the Replica Lodge where Washington’s own Masonic apron and trowel were kept. She walked into the Memorial Hall itself, the polished floor squeaking under her shoes. Green granite columns supported the soaring ceiling and at the end of the hall, the huge bronze statue of Washington in Masonic regalia gazed down at her. There was nothing wrong there, so she mounted the stairs to the second floor. The smell was stronger here and seemed to be coming from the Royal Arch Chapter Room.

Maria loved to clean that area, for it contained a golden replica of the Ark of the Covenant and a gold menorah, as well as murals depicting the ruins of the Jerusalem Temple. It always seemed to her that God wanted her to clean it with a special reverence and she often saved it until last.

But now she was afraid of what she might find.

Gathering her strength, Maria walked through the marble archway that led into the room. She froze in horror at what she saw, her body shaking with fear.

The head of a young man had been wedged between the two golden cherubim on top of the Ark, their wings outstretched over the mercy seat of the Lord. His dark curls were matted to his head, his eyes bulging open in horror. Blood dripped down the gold chest onto the floor where his decapitated body lay spreadeagled in a pool of gore and feces.

The stench was overpowering and Maria reached out to clutch the nearest pillar. Her stomach heaved and she managed to turn away, puking up her breakfast onto the marble floor.

Over the mural of the destroyed Jerusalem temple were words written in blood ‘Shoah to the Arabs. Say no to peace.’ Down on her knees in the mess, Maria called out her prayers to God, asking for his strength to face this evil.