The Second Messiah (30 page)

“Feeling a lot better since the morphine.”

“Wouldn’t we all? Remember, no gymnastics, you don’t want to open up that wound of yours. By the way, have any of you seen the local rag?”

Pierre handed Jack a local newspaper. The headline read:

BRUTAL MURDER MYSTERY AND THEFT AT QUMRAN

KILLER SOUGHT BY POLICE

Pierre said, “It gives all the grisly details of the crime and speculates about black-market thieves.”

Buddy took the newspaper from Jack, scanned the article, and raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.” He looked up. “If this keeps up, you’re going to have more media crews crawling all over this site like flies over camel dung.”

Buddy handed the paper back to Pierre and patted Jack’s cheek. “We’ll continue this talk when I get back. Meantime, rest, okay?”

Savage disappeared toward the office trailer, following Pierre. Jack watched him go, then turned to Yasmin and shook his head, half smiling. “I don’t think Buddy realizes that he sometimes acts like he’s my old man.”

“He means well, Jack.”

“I know.” Jack looked at his watch. “Listen, Yasmin, I need you to do me a big favor and drive me to Tel Aviv.”

“What for? You’re in no condition to travel.”

“You heard Pierre. I’m on the mend.” Jack held up his cell phone, excitement infecting his voice. “While you and Buddy were talking I made a few calls to Italy. There’s a guy in Rome I intend to talk with
who
’s an authority on Schonfeld’s code. And there’s someone in the Vatican I’d like to see.”

“About what?”

“I’ll explain later. I called the airport. There’s a one o’clock flight from Tel Aviv to Rome.”

Yasmin said with concern, “Rome? But you heard Buddy.”

“By the time Buddy realizes the call from the Antiquities Department was phoney, I’ll be on my way to the Eternal City.”

“
You
made the call to Pierre?”

“I had to. I feel guilty about it but if I told Buddy what I was up to, he’d tie me down. I’ll call him when I get to Rome. Besides, if I hang around here and the media heats up and starts mentioning my name, I may not be able to travel anywhere.”

“What about Pasha’s threat?”

Jack’s voice sparked with resolve. “That’s a risk I’m going to have to take. Besides, Rome’s a long way from Syria. How’s anyone going to know?”

“I have the feeling that Pasha’s the kind of psycho who’d make it his business.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Well, are you going to drive me to Tel Aviv airport or not? I’ll have a quick shower, a change of clothes, and pack an overnight bag. But I’ll need to make a brief stop on the way.”

“Where?”

“At my parents’ grave.”

“Why?”

“I’d like a private moment. Well, are you going to drive me?”

Yasmin’s gaze met his. “On one condition, Jack.”

“What’s that?”

“You take me with you to Rome.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER
Yasmin pulled the Land Cruiser up near the side of the road.

“I won’t be long,” Jack said, and climbed out.

Yasmin watched him cross to the gravestone as a puzzled look erupted on his face. Jack kept his back to her as she saw him kneel and spend a few minutes tidying the grave, tossing away the remains of flowers and smoothing out the gravel chips. Finally, after a private moment of reflection he stood, walked back to the Land Cruiser, and jumped in. He stared out at the Judean desert, as if searching for something or someone.

Yasmin said, “What’s wrong? You look shocked.”

“My parents’ grave was vandalized.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Someone crushed the flowers I’d left there the other day. They were a mess. They stomped them all over the gravel and scattered the stone chips.”

“Why would anyone do that? Unless it’s meant as some kind of warning.”

“If someone thinks a cowardly act like that’s going to stop me, then they’ve got another thing coming.”

TEL AVIV

LELA CLUTCHED HER
seat in the back of the wailing ambulance. She stared out past tinted windows and saw a white paramedic station wagon with a siren and flashing blue light speeding through the traffic in front of the ambulance. Julius Weiss’s bodyguards riding shotgun, Lela guessed.

Ari sat next to her, clutching a leather attaché case on his lap. His boss, Weiss, was sprawled opposite on a red leatherette seat, next to an array of medical equipment. Beside him was a pale-faced man wearing a Jewish skullcap, a worn black suit, and scuffed brown shoes. One side of his glasses was held together with blue insulation tape. He was stonily silent—Weiss had not introduced him when they boarded the ambulance—but every now and then his myopic eyes darted shyly at Lela.

The Mossad chief said with an impish grin, “What do you think of my transport, Inspector Raul? It’s the perfect cover. Who’d suspect the head of Mossad of traveling in an ambulance?”

Lela saw the whitewash sprawl of Tel Aviv rush past as they sped along the roadway. “Do I get to know where I’m being taken?”

Weiss snapped his fingers. Ari Tauber handed him a bulky, mustard-colored envelope from the attaché case. The Mossad chief removed a sheaf of color photographs. Lela saw that they were the ones Ari had taken at the monastery.

Weiss examined the images and let out a sigh. “It seems that you and Ari had an interesting evening at Maloula, Inspector. Everyone in the monastery is dead and there’s no sign of Cane or the scroll.” The
Mossad
chief looked up and fixed Lela with a stare. “The plot certainly thickens, doesn’t it?”

“I think you could say that.”

Weiss pursed his lips in thought. “An interesting snippet of information that you ought to be aware of: Cane crossed back into Israel at seven this morning, along with the Bedu and Yasmin Green.”

“What?”

“I had their passports flagged with border security and was alerted as soon as the three showed up at the Allenby Bridge crossing. The pickup and its occupants were searched but the scroll was nowhere to be found. Cane, however, had a noticeable leg wound.”

Lela’s face creased with concern. “What happened to him?”

“He claimed he’d had an accident. On my direct orders the border security guards didn’t pursue the matter and risk making Cane suspicious. They allowed all three back into Israel.”

“So we’re none the wiser about what happened at the monastery?”

Ari said, “Lela, Professor Feldstein here thinks he may be able to help enlighten us.”

Weiss added, “Inspector Lela Raul, meet Professor Feldstein. I should point out that the professor’s a Harvard graduate and a Dead Sea scrolls expert. Go ahead, Paul.”

Weiss handed the clutch of photographs to the black-suited Feldstein, who held up a snapshot for Lela to see. It was of Father Novara, lying in a pool of his own blood.

Feldstein pushed his glasses off the bridge of his nose and said in a soft, almost whispered voice, “This man, Father Vincento Novara, was a leading Aramaic scholar—an Aramaist. Many years ago he worked in the Vatican’s archives as a translator and archivist. He specialized in the old Aramaic and the later dialect common at the time of Jesus. He was also an expert on the Dead Sea scrolls. It’s my belief that the priest’s job was to translate the stolen parchment.”

Lela raised an eyebrow. “I think we’ve already figured that one out,
professor
. The question is for whom? And what does the scroll contain?”

“This is no ordinary Dead Sea scroll, Inspector.”

“What do you mean?”

“Many years ago, soon after the first Dead Sea scrolls were discovered at Qumran, an expert named Professor Schonfeld worked on their translation. He discovered a code hidden within certain of them. Have you heard of Schonfeld’s work?”

“Never.”

“It’s a very simple code, one that Schonfeld called the Atbash Cipher. The letters of the Aramaic alphabet are completely reversed. The first letter becomes the last, and the last the first, and so on. It couldn’t be simpler. Do you understand?”

“I think so. Go on.”

“Not all of the Dead Sea scrolls contain a code, but a select few certainly do.” Professor Feldstein removed a pen and notepad from his pocket, flicked open a fresh page, and drew two short dashes:

“Only scrolls that contain two dashes in the upper-right-hand corner of the parchment contain code. It was a simple indicator to those who had knowledge of the code’s existence that a secret message was contained within the text.”

Lela said impatiently, “And the significance of all this is, professor?”

Feldstein met her stare. “We believe that the scroll found by Jack Cane contains a similar marking, suggesting the document has an Atbash code.”

“What kind of message are we talking about?”

“Schonfeld’s work led him to believe that a number of Dead Sea scrolls contained important announcements meant to be passed down to future generations.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because at least two others already found contain an important
revelation
. One is held by Israel. The other by the Vatican. Held in secret, I might add. In locked vaults and accessible only to those in the highest authority.”

“What for?” Lela asked.

Feldstein looked at the Mossad chief, who nodded his approval.

“Tell her, professor.”

THE PROFESSOR’S FACE
was grave as he took out a handkerchief, removed his glasses, and began polishing them vigorously. “It’s a very remarkable revelation that would certainly stun the world. The description ‘earth-shattering’ definitely applies in this case.”

“I take it that you know exactly what the revelation is, professor?”

Before Feldstein could reply, Weiss addressed Lela. “The professor works for Mossad and is a keeper of state secrets. The answer to your question is yes, he knows, just as I do. And before you roll your eyes in doubt, Feldstein isn’t talking bull. The code is real. The revelation is real. And we now know that the scroll Jack Cane discovered has been carbon-dated to between 25 and 50
A.D.
”

Lela smiled, sat back, and looked from Feldstein to Weiss. “You two are really serious, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Weiss answered flatly.

“Forgive me, but I’ve heard nonsense like this before.”

Weiss looked affronted. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s the stuff of fiction, age-old myths, and bad movies and comes in various shapes and forms. You know the kind of thing I mean. The incredible Bible secret that will change the world. Or the cipher hidden in Scripture that suggests God has a secret to reveal. Or maybe newly discovered evidence that claims Jesus Christ never existed, or that Mary Magdalene was his wife or his girlfriend and that they produced a bloodline.”

Professor Feldstein said confidently, “This is no myth, Inspector. And I can assure you that the revelation would have far-reaching consequences.”

Lela sat back and folded her arms. “Really? And just what kind of revelation are we talking about? That Scientology got it right? That creatures from outer space seeded the earth? Or that there was no Jesus Christ? Or proof that God does or doesn’t exist? At least tell me if I’m in the ballpark here, or am I so way off beam I’m starting to sound crazy?”