“Exactly!” MacCameron cried out. “The batting order! Oh, that’s rich. Except in the Bible, the apostle Paul talks about an order much more important than a batting lineup. He gives us the ‘resurrection order!’ Don’t you see?”
“No,” Will replied.
“Richard Hunter, bless his heart—I don’t know whether he ever finally believed in Jesus before his awful death. But one thing about my friend Richard—he knew his New Testament. Better than some pastors. That’s what he meant by the ‘resurrection order.’ First Thessalonians, chapter four, verse sixteen. Paul talks about the resurrection.” And with that MacCameron pulled out his little pocket New Testament and started reading:
For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.
“I tell you, that’s the ‘resurrection order’ Hunter was talking about. He said, when I am in the halls of the British Museum, to remember my Bible, and to remember the resurrection order—in which the ‘dead in Christ’ rise first…‘dead in Christ’…Dr. Ded-en-crist…Somewhere, on the other side of this door, just a few feet from where we are standing, lies the missing 7QC fragment. It’s somewhere in the office of Dr. Dedencrist. I know it.”
MacCameron needed to rest, so he asked that Will run down to the central administrative office and gain access to the office.
The assistant administrator was just leaving for the day when Will caught her and explained the urgent need to get into Dedencrist’s office and search it.
She looked skeptical. “Dr. Dedencrist is currently somewhere in the hills of Mongolia, with a group of American explorers, looking for the burial site of Genghis Khan. I don’t know how we can contact him to obtain permission.”
“Does he have a cell phone that works internationally?”
“Well, he did leave some numbers. I can try. Heaven only knows where he actually is.”
Will walked back to the locked door where MacCameron was sitting on a bench in the hallway, and explained the problem.
“I’m going to pray. Want to join me?” MacCameron asked.
Will somehow felt compelled to bow his head as Angus MacCameron, in labored but impassioned words, asked for the intervention of “our Most High King of the universe, our dearest heavenly Father,” that he might make possible a connection between the British Museum and Dr. Dedencrist. By the end of the prayer, MacCameron was out of breath, and Will was beginning to have serious concerns about his client’s condition.
Will offered to find some water for his client, and went down the hallway. After he had walked about twenty feet, he heard the fast paced clacking sound of a pair of high heels down the corridor. He turned and saw the assistant administrator approaching MacCameron. She spotted Will and shouted, very uncharacteristically, “Mr. Chambers! Quite extraordinary. Most unusual. I was able to get him on his cell phone on the very first try. Dr. Dedencrist gave me immediate approval for you to look for Dr. Hunter’s things.”
“Isn’t that marvelous!” MacCameron said.
“And I think you should know what else he said.”
“What is that?” Will asked as he quickly approached her.
“Dr. Hunter was tight on space in his offices. He was something of a pack-rat. Never tossed a thing away. He ended up keeping several filing cabinets of his with Dr. Dedencrist, who didn’t mind because he had the extra space. So, there you are!”
She fished through her keys, and tried several that didn’t fit.
Finally she found the right key, unlocked the door, and swung it open.
As she turned on the switch, the fluorescent lights buzzed, flickered, and then illuminated the room, as Will and MacCameron walked in.
66
THE ADMINISTRATOR TOLD THEM SHE WOULD BE back to check on them in about an hour, when they would have to leave for the day. She left, and the two began to scan the room.
It looked like what one would think of as the office of a museum staff member. Stacks of semi-organized papers and files were scattered over Dr. Dedencrist’s desk and credenza. There was a table in the middle of the office, covered with maps and books. In one corner there was a computer on a small desk. Beyond the desk there was a row of windows that gave a panoramic view of the spires of the Royal Courts of Justice and the River Thames off in the distance, reflecting the sun that was setting over the city of London.
Against one wall of the office there were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with books.
On the other wall there was a row of four brown wooden file cabinets. Next to those there were three tan, metal file cabinets, with a small label on each drawer that simply read, “Dr R.H.”
“This is it!” Will exclaimed. He told Angus MacCameron to sit down and rest in the leather armchair in the corner of the office while he went through the drawers.
First, Will did a quick inventory of the general contents of the three file cabinets. Not surprisingly, Hunter’s files were arranged largely in general alphabetical order. There were hundreds of manila file folders with a variety of different-colored labels, most of them with handwritten titles.
“Didn’t Hunter believe in storing information on computer?” Will asked, as he considered the number of files he had to scan. He was beginning to worry that they might run out of time before the administrator returned and told them to leave for the day.
“He was old-school—like me. He didn’t trust storing a lot of information on a computer,” MacCameron replied.
Will noticed that several categories nearly took up a full drawer each, like “JERUSALEM,” “MAPS,” “MONTHLY REPORTS,” and “PENDING PROJECTS.”
After a hurried scan of the labels of all of the files to see if anything directly relating to the 7QC fragment would jump out, Will had come up with nothing.
“I suppose it was too much to ask for, that Hunter would make it easy for us,” Will said out loud to himself. He decided to hit “PENDING PROJECTS” first, as that would be a logical place for Hunter to have hidden the fragment. Will found budget projections, correspondence on planned excavations south of the Qumran, articles on some promising sites in Jordan to investigate, memos and notes, receipts for cash expenses that Hunter had incurred; but nothing even remotely connected to the ancient fragment he was looking for.
Next he dove into the “JERUSALEM” file—again thinking that it would be a logical location for the fragment, but found only letters, Museum conference agendas, memos from the Israeli Antiquities Authority, personal cards from friends in Jerusalem, newspaper and magazine articles about the Temple Mount, diagrams of various projects planned in the Kidron Valley, just outside the Old City area—but no 7QC. Will looked again at the papers in the file, then reached in and pulled out something that looked like parchment.
Will glanced at the paper, and then shook his head. “Dr. Hunter saved a menu from a Jerusalem restaurant,” he said. “He hides the most important archaeological fragment of all time, but keeps a menu handy. Does anyone see anything funny about that?” Will said to the air.
“Try Bethlehem,” MacCameron suggested from his leather chair, as he swabbed perspiration from his forehead.
“Yeah, that’s right—that’s where Azid’s shop was located,” Will said as he pulled open another file drawer. But when he located a thin folder with a “BETHLEHEM” label, he found it empty.
“There’s nothing here,” Will exclaimed. “You think he took it out of the file at the last moment and put it somewhere else?”
MacCameron said nothing, but simply shook his head.
Then Will thought about checking for “AZID.” But there was no such file.
Finally Will decided to simply leaf through the files alphabetically. But the next time that he glanced at his watch, he realized that their hour in the office had already passed. Any minute their host would arrive and politely kick them out, and he had only gotten to the files bearing the label “MAPS.” He flicked through the maps,
diagrams, and charts, but nothing looked promising. The next categories were “MAPKON,” “MIDRASH,” “MITHRAS (ROMAN—2ND-5TH CENTURY),” “MITZVAH (see: PENTATEUCH)”—all of them looked unpromising.
The door to the office swung open and the assistant administrator appeared, putting on her raincoat.
“I’m afraid you will have to leave now, gentlemen. I hope you brought your umbrellas; there is a tiny bit of a drizzle outside. The security guard will escort you out.”
She disappeared from the doorway, and the sound of her heels on the marble floor echoed away in the distance.
So, this is it, Will thought to himself. “Here we are with our backs to the Red Sea. The Egyptians come roaring down at us in their chariots. But the sea just doesn’t part. Not this time. This time they grease their wheels with us.”
Will glanced over at MacCameron, who was leaning back, his head resting against the high-backed chair. He seemed to be talking, mouthing words—but Will could hear nothing.
Looking back at the file drawer he had been working on, Will ran his eyes over the file tabs once more. Finally he closed the drawer, and walked away.
And that was when he was aware of the silent touch from somewhere in the dark—the invisible neuron firing, the minuscule current of a thought—sparked from the finger of someone or something. Was it something he had heard? Or had read somewhere? He turned and looked back at the file drawer he had just closed.
“Something there…” Will muttered. “Something in that drawer…”
He grabbed the metal handle, and yanked the drawer open with such force that the file cabinet rocked and banged against the wall.
Will madly ran his fingers over the tabs: “MAPS,” “MAPKON,” “MIDRASH,” “MITHRAS (ROMAN—2ND-5TH CENTURY),” “MITZVAH (see: PENTATEUCH).”
“Greek,” Will mumbled to himself. “The Greek for ‘Mark.’ The Greek name for the Gospel of Mark…it looks like…‘MAPKON’…in the Greek, the ‘P’ makes the sound of an ‘R,’ so it sounds like ‘Markon,’ but it reads ‘MAPKON’!” His thoughts were tumbling over themselves as he reached for the “MAPKON” file.
“Reichstad wrote that 7QA was the true original ending to the Gospel of Mark. But that wasn’t really his idea,” Will continued to himself now loudly. “He stole it—just like he stole 7QA. It was Hunter’s idea…and Hunter told Azid…and that’s where Reichstad got the idea…as well as the 7QA fragment.” With that Will pulled from the folder its only contents, a large olive-green envelope, with the flourish of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
“This is it!” Will yelled, and quickly unwound the thread from the round tab on the outside flap.
He then pulled out the only thing within: a clear plastic zip bag. It contained an irregularly shaped and yellowish piece of material with the block letters of Greek writing.
Will ran to the large table that was cluttered with books and maps and papers. With his left arm, he cleared a corner in one sweep, sending books clattering to the floor and papers flying in the air.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the photocopy of 7QA joined together with 7QB and laid it on the mahogany surface of the table. He placed the plastic bag with the fragment onto the upper right-hand corner of the photocopy, carefully lining up its lettering to the right of the top two lines of 7QA, and just above 7QB—exactly where MacCameron had always thought that 7QC belonged.
It was a perfect fit. The left-hand edge of this piece was an exact match with the right-hand edge of 7QA; and the bottom of this new fragment matched the top of 7QB. And the two lines of Greek letters matched perfectly with the top two lines of 7QA, apparently completing them.
“Just like a jigsaw puzzle on Aunt Georgia’s card table!” Will exclaimed.
But Will suddenly realized that he had absolutely no idea what the two lines of Greek writing on this new fragment actually said.
He whirled around to Angus MacCameron.
Will felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his stomach.
MacCameron had slumped over to one side of the chair. His face, which was drained of all color, was grimaced in pain, and his right hand was balled up in a fist, held tight against his chest. Will rushed over.
MacCameron was drenched in sweat, and his skin was cold and clammy. Will heard him groaning—a low, quiet groan of intense suffering.
Will dashed to the door. He saw the security guard strolling down the hall toward him. “Get an ambulance! Now!” Will screamed out. “I think he’s having a heart attack!”
67
IN THE HOSPITAL, WILL STOOD AT THE TELEPHONE with the receiver at his ear. He dreaded making this phone call to Fiona.
She answered on the second ring. Will started explaining everything. He shared with her that her father had suffered a serious heart attack. He blamed himself—Angus had not been looking good the whole trip. He’d seemed tired and sick. Short of breath. Will knew the symptoms. His own father had died of a heart attack. Why in the world hadn’t he been able to figure it out before it was too late for Angus MacCameron?
Will gave Fiona the name and location of the hospital, the necessary telephone numbers, and the name of the attending cardiologist. The doctor had found a blockage in one of the left coronary arteries. They had to stabilize his condition, and then would administer drugs in an attempt to dissolve the clot. If that didn’t work, Angus would have to undergo surgery.
Fiona listened quietly, intensely, then quickly asked a series of questions. Was he expected to survive? She would immediately fly over to London and be with him. Was he conscious? Was he in great pain? Fiona said that she knew someone from her church who could stay in the house with her mother while she attended her father in England.
“You said that the heart attack happened just as you found the 7QC fragment?”
“Yes. Your father was right about finding it—he’s been right about a lot of things. I didn’t think we could locate it.”
“Be careful with that little piece of papyrus. You have to continue the case next week—even though you will have to do it without him.”
“I don’t know how I can defend his case without his being there—without his testimony.”
“You have to,” Fiona pleaded. “Da knew what was at stake in this case. He believed in the cause he was fighting for. And he believed in you.”
“Fiona, I’ll do whatever I can,” Will said.
“There is one more thing I know he would want you to do.”
“Anything.”
“You must still go to Jerusalem tomorrow. To be an eyewitness to whatever Reichstad finds in his excavation.”
“I can’t do that—I can’t leave him alone,” Will said, feeling torn.
“Please. Do this for my da. This is what he wants. Please do this. This is what he lived for—to vindicate the truth. You have to be his eyes and his ears at that wall in Jerusalem while Reichstad is digging. The Lord will take care of my father…”
There was a pause as Fiona’s voice cracked and she began crying.
“The Lord will take care of him until I get there. I’m going to leave right now. I may be able to catch a plane out of D.C. within a few hours. But you have to be in Jerusalem for my father tomorrow. Now please tell my da I love him. Tell him I love him so very much. And that I will see him as soon as I can—within twenty-four hours. And Will…”
“Yes?”
“Please take care of yourself. I don’t want anything to happen to you…” Fiona’s voice cracked again, as they said goodbye to each other.
When Will was finally allowed into his room, Angus had IV tubes in both arms, as well as tubes in both nostrils. A heart monitor beeped next to him. The nurse told Will he could only have five minutes.
Will took Angus MacCameron’s hand and squeezed it slightly to let him know that he was not alone.
MacCameron’s eyelids fluttered, and he opened his eyes. After he had focused, the corner of his mouth rose slightly in a smile. Then he parted his lips to say so
mething.
“Don’t try to talk, Angus. Just listen. I spoke to Fiona. She’s flying over to London immediately. She says to tell you she loves you very much.”
“You…found…it,” MacCameron said in a voice that was barely audible.
Will pulled the baggie with 7QC out of his pocket and held it up.
“No. You found it. You found it, Angus, with your stubborn faith.”
MacCameron blinked a few times. Then he said something that Will could not hear. Will bent down close to listen.
“Bible…”
“Bible?” Will asked. Then he noticed the little pocket New Testament on the nightstand next to him. He picked it up and opened it to the place where the ribbon bookmark was placed. It was at chapter eight of the book of Romans.
“Read…thirty-eight…”
Will ran his finger down the page until it rested on verse thirty-eight. Then he read it out loud:
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus the Lord.
Then Angus MacCameron whispered something barely perceptible. But Will understood it perfectly.
“I’m ready for the Lord…are you?”
Will was still struggling for a response when the nurse came in and ushered him out of the room.
He grabbed a cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria, and then found a phone. After dialing Tiny Heftland’s number at his hotel in Jerusalem, Will got the hotel voice mail. He left a message for Tiny’s room. He told him about Angus MacCameron, and their amazing discovery of what he decided, on the spur of the moment, to code-name the “laundry ticket.” Will ended the message by explaining his plans to fly to Jerusalem the next day.
Rather than go directly to his hotel room, Will decided to wait for a while in the hospital lobby, just in case there was any change with Angus. He put his coffee down beside his chair and started to leaf through a magazine. It occurred to him that he ought to somehow copy the fragment.
The Resurrection File Page 40