The Moses Legacy (27 page)

‘I assume you know who I am?' Goliath said.

‘I remember you,' said Daniel, unsure of how to play it. ‘You were the man on the plane. We talked a bit about ancient Egypt and history and all that.'

More than anyone else in the room, Daniel realized that they were in deadly danger, although he sensed that Gabrielle must have at least
some
idea too. It was now clear to Daniel that the pushy man who had spoken to him on the plane was also the man who had tried to kill them at the tomb.

It made perfect sense. The guardian of the tomb's neck was broken and this was clearly a strong man. Daniel knew that Gabrielle had figured it out too. Only the high priest was in blissful ignorance of the fact that standing before them was a deadly assassin.

But what was his cause? And what happened to the armed guard outside? This man was certainly strong enough to have dealt with him. But they hadn't heard a thing. Just as at the tomb, they had only realized when it was too late.

‘Let's not beat around the bush, Professor Klein. You know who I am.'

‘You're the man who locked us in the tomb.'

‘Correct.'

‘Did you kill my uncle?' asked Gabrielle.

‘That too.'

‘But
why
?' she asked.

‘What is this?' asked the high priest.

‘Shut up!'
yelled Goliath, delivering a vicious blow to the priest with the back of his hand. The blow drew blood.

Daniel took a step towards the big man. He was prepared to fight Goliath, despite his obvious size and strength. But the high priest held up a hand to stay Daniel's advance.

‘What do you want?' asked Gabrielle in an even tone.

‘I want…
that
!'

He pointed to the small papyrus scroll. She moved her hand away nervously, but held his gaze.

‘This scroll belongs to the world,' she said quietly, but with a hint of defiance.

‘Enough! I didn't come here to argue!'

They all fell silent. Daniel eyed the man carefully, wondering whether he stood a chance if he made a move. At the back of his mind was the thought that everyone has a weak spot, but this man had shown that he had speed as well as strength. He realized that any move he might make would endanger not only himself, but also the others.

He wondered if any support might come from outside. An armed guard had been posted at the door. But that was all rather perfunctory; no one had actually expected any trouble. And where was the armed guard now? Had he just gone to take a leak? Or had this man done something to him?

‘Give it to me,' said Goliath, pointing to the clay urn that had housed the papyrus. He was staring at Gabrielle. She hesitated for a moment, looking at Daniel.

‘Do it!'
shouted Goliath, grabbing Daniel by the throat to show that they were powerless to resist him. Daniel felt a spasm of agony as the soft tissue of his throat was crushed
in Goliath's iron grip. He couldn't kick Goliath, either in the groin or the kneecap because the man's long reach held him too far away, and in any case he was in too much pain.

Then he remembered a self-defence technique he had learnt years before. Reaching over Goliath's left hand he pressed hard on the thumb, forcing his attacker's fingers to open. With Goliath's grip broken, he pulled away, his hands to his throat as he coughed and sputtered.

His eyes met those of the big man, wondering how he would react to being thwarted in this David versus Goliath struggle. He expected to see anger and was fully prepared for an onslaught of rage. But instead he saw a smile, as if his attacker respected him for his effective display of resistance.

Meanwhile, Gabrielle was still hesitating. She looked at Daniel and although he stubbornly refused to nod, it was clear that there was no way they could defy this man. They could shout for help, but who knew how he would react?

So Gabrielle picked up the glass-encased papyrus in two hands and extended it towards Goliath.

‘No!'
shouted the high priest, diving forward to grab the precious relic before the big man could take it.

Through the haze of pain that still engulfed him, Daniel realized in that split second that the high priest was putting his life on the line. Now was not the time to resist, but Daniel's reactions were not quick enough to restrain the high priest and halt his futile act of opposition. By the time Daniel was able to respond, Goliath had grabbed the high priest by his shirt and pulled him so that the priest was in front of him. With his free hand, Goliath produced a knife and with one swift move he slashed across the high priest's throat, like a ritual slaughterer in a kosher abattoir, cutting through the priest's carotid artery and jugular vein.

Gabrielle stifled a scream. Daniel looked on with horror.
The high priest had trusted them and they had sealed his fate. There was no other interpretation of the facts. Now Daniel suddenly realized that it was him the big man was interested in. That was why he had been on the same plane when Daniel went to Egypt, and he had been following him ever since. In other words – it finally dawned on Daniel – he had effectively led the man here. And this vile man had killed the high priest when he tried to protect his sacred scroll.

But the question that haunted him now was what should he do? Should he dive for the exit and try to raise the alarm? That would merely endanger Gabrielle. Should he throw himself at the man and give Gabrielle a chance to escape? What, indeed, was this man intending? Did he mean to eliminate all witnesses to his actions?

‘Give it to me!' Goliath barked at Gabrielle.

This time she did not hesitate. She did as he had told her. The big man put the glass sheets containing the papyrus into the heavy-duty carrier bag he had with him. Daniel's eyes returned to the high priest whose life was slipping away before his eyes. He wanted to help him, but he knew that there was nothing he could do.

‘What are you going to do?' asked Gabrielle.

‘I spoke to Aryeh Tsedaka. He told me that there is another scroll.
The Book of the Wars of the Lord
.'

Daniel was about to ask why Rabbi Tsedaka would tell him that. Then he realized. And in that moment, he also understood that if the rabbi had been forced to disclose that information then he had probably also been forced to disclose where Daniel and Gabrielle were going. Further, if he had been forced to do that, then he would have wanted to warn them of the danger. He clearly hadn't done so, and that could only mean one thing: Aryeh Tsedaka was dead.

Daniel looked at the man no longer with fear but with
hate. This was an evil man motivated by some sort of religious fanaticism, the nature of which Daniel could barely comprehend.

‘He told me that the scroll is in Petra…'

‘But he said that the book is lost,' said Gabrielle nervously.

‘He
thought
it was lost. But he doesn't know. It was entrusted to the Bedouin, and they are very good at preserving the past… and you two are going to help me get it.'

And just to make it clear how serious he was, he reached into his pocket and produced a semi-automatic pistol.

He put it back in his pocket as he directed Daniel and Gabrielle to the door. It was late afternoon and there were not many people about so there was little opportunity to resist or to call for help. Besides, it was obvious that the big man was utterly ruthless and ready to kill anyone who got in his way.

What was
not
clear was how strong his instinct for self-preservation was, but now did not seem like a good time to test it. So instead, Gabrielle and Daniel complied as he directed them out of the office. Any residual thoughts of resistance were cut short by the sight of the security guard lying dead by one of the lab machines. There was no sign of a wound, but they knew the killer's strength and his ability to kill with his bare hands.

They walked ahead of him and left the building via the side exit that led to the car park where Daniel and Gabrielle had left their rented car.

He dictated the seating arrangement. Daniel in front, driving. He and Gabrielle in the back, with Gabrielle behind Daniel. That way he could keep an eye on both of them… and maintain his threat against both of them.

There was an eerie silence in the Conservation Department when Sarit gingerly pushed the door open and walked in. She didn't expect to find any work in progress at this time, but the silence was palpable. She looked around and saw no sign of anyone, although the fact that the department was unlocked suggested that there should at least be
some
human presence: a caretaker, a cleaner, a solitary member of staff doing some late-night work.

Where is everybody? Maybe they just popped out for a minute?

No. That didn't make sense.

Then she saw the security guard lying there, unmoving. His eyes were open, but as she studied them for a few seconds she noticed that they didn't blink. She realized that he was beyond help. She studied his body carefully, noting the empty side holster as she pondered her next move.

Sarit looked around to try to get her bearings. At the end of the corridor was a door. It seemed to be beckoning her to enter, but there was something that troubled her. The door was slightly ajar and she felt a strange aura coming from the room.

Stop it!
she told herself.

She held her head up, forcing herself to overcome this strange sense of trepidation that had come over her, and
walked towards it quickly. Then, instead of opening the door and boldly walking in as she normally would, she simply pushed the door open. It was as if she was waiting for an explosion, as if the door had been booby-trapped.

The room was quiet and eerily still. And lying on the floor, face down with his head turned towards the door, was a man in the traditional robes of the Samaritans. What caught her attention was the trail of blood flowing from his neck. She realized that his throat had been cut, and that he too was dead.

Despite her helplessness, a feeling of solidarity forced her to step forward into the room. Although she was not in fact Jewish, she remembered reading that according to Jewish law one should not leave a dying person, ‘lest the soul leave the body bewildered'.

But all of these thoughts were cut short by a rustling sound behind her and a sharp intake of breath. For as she spun round, she found herself confronted by two Samaritan priests, the look of accusation burning in their eyes.

‘Do not give him any sign that you are under duress,' said Goliath. ‘I can shoot her before they shoot me and I am not afraid to die.'

Daniel wondered if their abductor was really quite as mad as he sought to portray himself. Did he really have no instinct for self-preservation? There were such people in the world, but was he one of them? But remembering how Goliath had acted at the National Library in Jerusalem, he realized that the man's words were true. He had shown just how ruthless he was when he murdered the Samaritan priest.

So when they showed their passports to the Israeli border officials at the King Hussein Bridge, Daniel neither said nor did anything to alert them to his predicament. He would bide his time and hope for an opportunity. That time was not now.

He wondered idly if the border officials might pick up on the fact that Daniel was sitting alone at the front, while Gabrielle was at the back with the big man. The one thing that worried Daniel was the possibility of one of them being asked to step out of the car. However, the fact that they were from the West and the fact that they were leaving meant that they were not seen as a threat. Their faces were checked against their passports and the passports then stamped to
show their exit. Then they were on their way to the Jordanian side, where the process took about the same time. They gave the purpose of their visit as ‘to see Petra'.

Then they were through and on the open road.

‘Well, that was painless, wasn't it?' said Goliath sarcastically.

Daniel forced himself to put his thoughts on hold as he drove. But every so often he glanced in the rear-view mirror to assure himself that Gabrielle was all right.

‘When we get there, we'll buy one-day tickets,' said their kidnapper.

 

The drive to Petra along the desert road took about three hours and Daniel's mind was reeling, desperately trying to think of an opportunity to disarm their abductor and get away. Sitting in the front as he drove along this naked stretch of road with very little traffic, there was not much he could do.

When they arrived at the visitor centre, local Bedouin – mostly children – swarmed around their car, offering them local souvenirs. A snarl from Goliath chased most of them off and the remainder drifted away when they saw that these tourists were not interested.

They went into the centre and Daniel bought one-day tickets for all three of them, as Goliath had instructed him. He wondered if the tension in his face had caught the attention of any of the staff, but there was no sign in their eyes that it had.

‘We wanted to ask you about guides,' said Goliath, keeping the gun concealed in his pocket.

‘We have guides who offer tours in English as well as many other languages—' The woman behind the counter broke off in response to Goliath's raised palm.

‘I have a rather unusual request. What we'd really like is someone who truly knows about the ancient history of Petra, including the period before the Nabateans.'

‘Ah… okay. The man you want is Talal Ibrahim. He's a member of the Bedul community – a sheikh in fact.'

‘Bedul?' Goliath echoed.

‘A local Bedouin tribe.'

‘Are they the ones who claimed to be descended from the ancient Israelites?'

The woman at the counter looked surprised. ‘Oh, yes. They did claim that at one time. In fact the second President of Israel – Isaac ben-Zvi – even went as far as to claim that the Bedul had retained aspects of Israelite culture and language.'

Daniel smiled, remembering what Aryeh Tsedaka had told him about the Samaritan community in Holon.

‘But that view isn't supported by serious historians,' the woman continued. ‘There certainly isn't any
written
record to suggest it.'

‘So they came… when?' asked Goliath. ‘The time of the Muslim conquest? The seventh century AD?'

‘Oh no, they pre-date the Islamic era, but probably not by all that much. Of course, their ancestors converted to Islam many centuries ago.'

‘So when did they arrive in this area?'

‘Well, their main claim is that they're descended from the Nabateans who built Petra.'

‘Is there any possibility that we could persuade this Talal Ibrahim to give us a tour?' asked Goliath. ‘We're only here for one day and—'

‘Wait a minute – are you asking about Sheikh Ibrahim?' asked another woman behind the counter.

‘Yes.'

‘He is here today. He actually had a group booked for a tour, but their coach broke down and they had to cancel. I think he's still here. I can page him.'

Half an hour later they were walking along the
Bab as Siq
– sometimes called the ‘outer
siq
' – a road bordered by slopes that ran by the side of Wadi Musa between the visitor centre and the entrance to the inner
siq
that most tourists took to get into Petra City.

‘The inner
siq
,' Ibrahim explained, literally “the shaft”, is a long, narrow passage through the red rock leading into the actual city of Petra. It was created not by man, but by nature and it stretches for two kilometres, bending and twisting this way and that along the way. It is barely three metres wide, sometimes less than that.'

Two things had struck Daniel within a few minutes of each other: the advanced age of the sheikh – it was hard to tell exactly how old he was – and the magnificent mountains and steep hills that surrounded them.

‘I thought the rock was red,' said Daniel in his naivety.

‘That's further in,' said Ibrahim. ‘Out here it is white.'

The valley began to narrow.

‘What's that?' asked Daniel, pointing to three square towers carved into the rock.

‘In Arabic we call them
sahreej
, which means cistern. However, the name is misleading because they have nothing to do with channelling or storing water. Most English speakers call them
djinn
blocks, using the Arabic word for an evil spirit, which I believe you sometimes call a genie.'

‘Were they carved by the Nabateans?' Daniel asked.

‘So it is believed. This is a theory that they represent the Nabatean god Dushara. They are also believed to be tombs. And these are not the only ones. More than twenty of these
djinn
blocks have been found in Petra.'

A little further down, Sheikh Ibrahim stopped and pointed to a small entrance cut into the rock on the other side of the road from the
djinn
blocks.

‘That is the entrance to the Snake Tomb.'

It was so unobtrusive that they could have gone right past it without noticing it. He walked in, followed by the others, who formed a nervous huddle just behind him.

‘There are twelve graves here,' the sheikh began.

‘Why is it called the Snake Tomb?' asked Daniel, thinking about Moses and the fiery snakes.

Sheikh Ibrahim switched on a torch and aimed it at the floor. He moved the torch and directed its beam on to the wall where a carved relief image of a pair of snakes attacking a dog or jackal was illuminated. Above it and to the left was a relief of a horse mounted by some indeterminate figure.

‘Not many people know about this place. It isn't considered important, but I presumed that as you wanted someone with deeper knowledge than usual, you might like to see this. A little tomb that most tourists don't bother with.'

They went outside and drank some water to cool off.

‘There is something I wanted to ask you,' Goliath said to the sheikh.

Daniel tensed up, wondering if Goliath was about to show his true colours and produce the gun. It would be risky; there were other people about. And no matter how ruthless Goliath was, it would do him no good to find himself surrounded by armed guards ready to shoot to kill before he had accomplished his goal. Moreover there was no reason to assume that Sheikh Ibrahim would yield to a threat.

In the event, Goliath kept his hand in his pocket.

‘You see that man?' He nodded at Daniel.

‘Yes,' said the sheikh, puzzled by the question.

‘He is the world's foremost expert on ancient Semitic
languages, and he has deciphered the ancient script. He is so wise and so trusted, that the Samaritans have given him their most precious manuscript. Let me show you.'

He produced the glass sheets containing
The Book of the Straight
from the bag he was carrying with him.

‘Well, go on, take a look,' said Goliath encouragingly.

The Bedul sheikh looked at the glass-encased papyrus and his eyes welled up with tears.

‘They
gave
you this?'

‘Only temporarily,' said Goliath. ‘We will give it back to them, of course. But they gave it to us to show it to you, so you would see that they trust us… in the hope that you will trust us too.'

‘T… trust you?' Ibrahim could barely trust his own voice. ‘I assume you know what that is?'

‘I think so.'

‘It is
The Book of the Straight
written by Joshua the Hebrew prophet. You can tell this from the ancient script in which it is written.' With trembling hands, he gave it back to Goliath. ‘If they let you have this in your hands – even for a minute – then they must trust you like a brother.'

‘Yes,' agreed Goliath, putting it away. ‘And that man over there…' he pointed to Daniel, ‘has translated that scroll. He can translate
your
scroll too.'

‘
My
scroll?'

‘The scroll that is guarded by your people.'

‘What scroll?'

‘The sacred scroll that was entrusted to your people. The scroll that your ancestors have protected all these years. The scroll that was written by Moses himself.
The Book of the Wars of the Lord
.'

Daniel saw no fear in the sheikh's eyes, just a hint of lingering suspicion. He wanted to warn him, but dared not.

He hoped that he would say that he didn't know what the man was talking about, or alternatively claim that the ancient scroll was lost.

‘And if
The Book of the Wars of the Lord
still exists?'

‘Then…' again Goliath pointed to Daniel, ‘that man can reveal the sacred truths that have remained hidden – even from your own ancestors – for over three thousand years.'

The sheikh leaned towards Goliath. Goliath had to move forward and crouch down to hear him. Ibrahim spoke, almost in a whisper.

‘It is not a scroll.'

‘Then what is it?'

The sheikh smiled, a bewitching smile, as if mocking the naivety of the big man. ‘Very few have set eyes upon it.'

‘And are you one of those few?'

‘Only once, when my father handed over to me the task of guarding it.'

‘Then let us see it,' said Goliath, feigning the pleading voice of a man with good intentions. ‘And let my friend translate it.'

‘All right. I will show it to you.'