calendar, 2012, Mayan Calendar, 2012, 2012, 2012, thriller, metaphysical, ufo, great pyramid, ezekiel, bible code

1887 AD: A fabled "lost scroll", scribed by the prophet Ezekiel, comes into the hands of a secret society, the Order of the New Dawn. Brother Hiram - a mystic priest of the Order - has a vision in which he sees the year 2012 as an unprecedented window of opportunity for the next step in the evolution of human consciousness. He also sees something coming that could prevent the window from opening and would seal the fate of humankind forever. He realizes the Lost Scroll and his vision have a strange but vital connection. In an attempt to save the future he devises a coded message that he hopes will one day find it's way into the hands of someone who can prevent the greatest catastrophe the modern world has ever known.

1999 AD: Frank McClintock - a self-styled adventurer and researcher of ancient mysteries comes into possession of the coded parchment. But an unfortunate fate awaits him and the parchment will remain hidden for another six years.

2005 AD: Zeke Banyon, a Catholic seminary dropout, is running a homeless shelter in the old waterfront district of Seattle. He and his assistant, Angela, unwittingly stumble upon the code and soon find themselves thrust into a world of secret societies, metaphysics, mystery, and murder. In the process of trying to understand the code Banyon discovers a disturbing truth about himself and the extraordinary fate that awaits him... and us. No amount of seminary schooling could ever have prepared him for this.

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From the days of Ezekiel to the future of December 21, 2012 .... and beyond.

A metaphysical mystery on a grand scale!

A puzzling page-turner!

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Gary Val Tenuta - former contributing writer for Fate Magazine and a guest on numerous radio programs (including Dreamland, hosted by best selling author Whitley Strieber) - has crafted an exciting mystery novel with an esoteric edge that may very well upset certain segments of the population while at the same time enthralling others with it's alternative perspective on reality and its vision for the future.

It's all here in one puzzling page-turner of a novel: conspiracy, codes, secret societies, ancient mysteries, the prophetic Mayan calendar end-date of 2012, alternative interpretations of events described in the Bible, mystifying metaphysics, good guys, bad guys, murder most foul and, yes, even a touch of romance. All of this, and more, is intricately woven into the multifaceted storyline of THE EZEKIEL CODE.

From its cliff-hanger prologue to its stunning and unforgettable conclusion, THE EZEKIEL CODE is a skillful blend of fact and fiction with likable, vividly developed characters: Zeke Banyon, a handsome Catholic seminary dropout who now runs a homeless shelter in Seattle's old waterfront district and Angela Ann Martin, an attractive young widow who just wanted a simple part-time job at the shelter. But their simple lives are turned upside down when they stumble onto a mysterious code and a rumor about a lost scroll allegedly penned by the prophet, Ezekiel, thousands of years ago. They soon find themselves thrust into a world of secret societies, metaphysics, mystery, and murder as they jet across continents in a race to understand the code that will lead them to an ancient artifact of profound importance. Dodging rogue Jesuit priests at every turn, they soon discover it's not just their own lives that are in danger but the lives of everyone on the planet.

The clock is ticking...

The code must be deciphered...

And only one man can save the world --- if he can just figure out how ---before it's too late.

THE EZEKIEL CODE is unique among mystery-centered novels as the author's real-life exploration of an "encoded English alphabet" forms the underlying plot device that carries the story from its cliff-hanger prologue to its stunning conclusion.

Tenuta's interest in gematria (an ancient form of alphanumeric divination employed by Hebrew and Greek mystics) led him to explore the possibility that the English alphabet might also be used in such a manner. His work in this area (described in detail at Synchroni-City) has received international attention. Much of that work is available in PDF format on CD at Synchroni-City. "Researchers in related fields have commented that it appears to be a significant contribution toward the establishment of an English based system of gematria." says Michael Tsarion, renown divination scholar and author of Atlantis: Alien Visitation and Genetic Manipulation.

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The Ezekiel Code Experience Reading The Ezekiel Code is like climbing aboard a locomotive attached to a freight train loaded with secrets. The prologue is the engineer pulling the cord to sound the whistle, letting you know the journey is about to begin. Chapter 1, the first chug of the engine, the wheels begin to turn as the characters transform from just names into flesh-and-blood people and the first hint of a mystery grabs your attention. Chapter 2, chug-chug, we begin to feel movement. Chapters 3, 4, 5, chug-chug-chug, something seems to be happening and you find yourself as confused, yet just as intrigued, as the characters in the story and you begin to wonder: where is this train headed? Chapters 6, 7, 8, 9, the chugging is picking up pace but you can feel the resistance of the weight from the load of secrets stuffed into the containers lined up behind the locomotive. Soon, one by one, those secrets, those puzzle pieces, begin to tumble out into the light of day as the train picks up speed. By the time you get to Part-2: Revelation, you're moving down the track at a pretty good clip and you've picked up enough clues to figure out where this train is going. Or have you? When you hit the three-quarter mark the story is rollin' like a freight train on a mission. The scenery out the window is whizzing by and soon you find yourself holding on to your seat because there's something big, up ahead, on the tracks, and surely this baby's headin' for a horrendous train wreck unless the engineer can figure out something quick. Then, as you're holding your breath, sure enough.....WHAM! You're thrown from your seat and hit the floor with a thud. But wait a minute... You pick yourself up... dazed... confused... You look around and wonder... What the hell just happened? Here's a clue: You are no longer where you think you are. What does that mean? How did it happen? There's only one way to find out: Get your ticket at the station and climb aboard!

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THE EZEKIEL CODE Prologue ______________________ December 15, 1999 Frank McClintock paced the floor and watched the clock as he waited for Professor Alan Kline to arrive. He's late, McClintock thought to himself. He's never late for anything. Maybe I better call him. As he reached for the phone the doorbell rang. He moved quickly across the room and opened the door. "Alan! Glad you could make it. Come on in." "For crying out loud," the professor complained, trying to shake off the chill. "You know I hate driving in the snow. Why couldn't you just tell me about whatever it is over the phone? And when the hell did you get back? I thought you were planning to stay in France for another week." McClintock took Kline's coat and laid it over the back of the couch. "I got back yesterday. I could have told you on the phone but there's something I wanted you to see. Sit down here by the fire and make yourself comfortable. I'll get us some coffee." "Great," Kline said. "I'll take a drop of whiskey in mine if you've got it." McClintock laughed. "Of course. How could I forget?" "What'd you want me to see?" Kline asked, seating himself in one of the pair of antique wingback chairs in front of the fireplace. "It's on the coffee table there in front of you," McClintock answered from the kitchen. The professor looked down. A document folder was lying on the small coffee table in front of him. He put on his reading glasses, opened the folder and took out the fragile sheet of parchment. It was yellowed with age and the writing was faded but legible. He was studying it when McClintock returned from the kitchen with two cups of hot coffee, each spiked with a touch of whiskey. McClintock settled into the other wingback chair facing the professor. He sipped his coffee quietly, letting the professor absorb the content of the parchment. After a few moments Kline removed his glasses and leaned back. He looked at McClintock. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked, completely astonished. "Yup," McClintock replied with a slight grin. "So the story is true?" McClintock nodded. "I believe it is." "Where the hell did you get this? I know you told me you thought it existed but I was beginning to think the whole strange story was a crock." "Well," McClintock started, "you remember the reason I went to France was to meet with that other researcher that I'd been corresponding with by email?" "Yes. Jacques somebody." "Yes! Jacques de Pereille. He claimed to be related to Raimon de Pereille but hardly anyone believed him." "I'm sorry," Kline said, shaking his head. "You'll have to refresh my memory." McClintock set his coffee down and leaned forward in the chair. "Raimon de Pereille," he explained, "was the lord of Montségur!" "Montségur?" Kline asked, not yet remembering this part of the long complex story. For the past several months McClintock had been pursuing what he suspected to be the facts behind an old myth. It was a story so unlikely that Professor Kline doubted any of it could be true. Whenever McClintock would discover some tidbit of information about the story he would call Kline and tell him what he'd learned. But now Kline's skepticism was being seriously challenged by the evidence he was holding in his own hands. "Montségur was a huge castle," McClintock explained. "The last refuge for the Cathars back in the Middle Ages during the so-called Holy Inquisition. They were being hunted down and slaughtered like animals." "Oh, right. Yes," Kline said. "I remember now." McClintock sat back in his chair. "Anyway, like I said, this guy, Jacques, claimed to be related to the Lord of Montségur." "And you believe he is?" McClintock shrugged. "Well, I can't say for certain but I'm damn sure about one thing." "What's that?" "He's the one who gave me what you're holding in your hands right now." Kline looked surprised. "He gave you this? He just handed it over to you? Why? Why would he do that?" "Well, it wasn't quite like that. Not exactly, anyway." Kline looked concerned. "What do you mean?" "Well, here's what happened. I had a conversation with Jacques at a little cafe the previous day. He confided in me that he had what he believed to be the real thing in his possession. He said he'd show it to me if I wanted to come to his home the next day. Well, I wasn't sure if I believed him or not but I wasn't going to pass it up, just in case. And then he told me he thought some kind of an agent from the Vatican had been following him around for the past week or so. Well, that struck me as a bit of a stretch and I just sort of brushed it off. I figured maybe Jacques was just getting paranoid. You know, having a little flight of fancy that was maybe getting out of hand." "The Vatican!" Kline scoffed. "Does seem a bit extreme." "Exactly my reaction. It was just a little too extreme. Like I said, I just brushed it off at the time. But when I got to his home the next day I found the door wide open and the place had obviously been ransacked. Furniture turned over, drawers pulled out, stuff all over the place. A real mess. I called out for Jacques but there was no answer." "My god. So what'd you do?" "The first thing that went through my mind was what he'd told me about someone following him around. I figured if that was true - I mean if that's what this was all about - then they were probably looking for that parchment. Fortunately Jacques told me where he'd hidden it." "I'm amazed he would tell anyone something like that," Kline said. "Why would he do that?" McClintock nodded. "Yes, well, I think the reason he told me was because he trusted me and figured if anything should happen to him at least maybe I could get to it before anyone else did. He'd simply hidden it inside the backing of a cheap painting that hung on the wall in his bedroom. So I rushed into the bedroom and sure enough the painting was hanging there, apparently untouched. I grabbed it from the wall and tore off the backing and there was the parchment just like he said. I shoved it under my coat and turned to get the hell out of there. That's when I saw Jacques on the floor. He was on the other side of the bed, laying in a pool of blood with a bullet hole in his head." Kline sat straight up. "Dead?" "As a doornail." "Jesus! Could it have been a suicide?" McClintock shook his head. "I doubt it. There was no gun anywhere to be seen." "He was murdered?" "That's the way it looked to me." "Good Lord," Kline mumbled under his breath. "Yeah." "Did you go to the police?" McClintock shook his head. "No, man. I was scared. I just got the hell out of there." Kline looked seriously concerned now. "If this is all true, you could be in real danger." McClintock nodded. "I know." "Who else knows you have this?" Kline asked, laying the old parchment back on the table. "Nobody. Just you." "You're sure?" "Pretty sure." "Good," Kline replied, somewhat relieved. "If I were you I'd get rid of the damn thing and just forget about it." McClintock swirled the coffee around in his cup a few times and looked up at his friend. "I can't," he said. "I've come so far. I'm this close. I can't let it go now. You know what I mean?" Kline shook his head. "I figured as much." He got up and walked over to the couch to get his coat. "Look, I gotta go. Got an early morning class and I promised the students an energetic lecture they'd be crazy to miss. But please, call me later tomorrow, will you? We need to talk about this. Seriously." "Alright," McClintock agreed, seeing his friend to the door. A light snow was still falling as Kline made his way across the yard toward the street. Suddenly a black van pulled out from the curb in front of the house. The driver seemed to be in a hurry as the van fishtailed down the icy street. Kline turned to look back toward the house. McClintock was still standing in the open doorway. Kline hollered, "Who was that?" McClintock shrugged it off. "I don't know. Vatican spooks?" he joked. Kline didn't laugh. "You call me tomorrow!" "Don't worry!" McClintock assured him with a wave as he closed the door against the cold night. But the professor was indeed worried. A bullet hole in the head - even if it's someone else's head - should make a person worry. The next day he waited for McClintock's call but it never came. Ever.

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