by Alex Archer
Apparently she’d chosen well, as she drew more than a few glances threading her way through the restaurant behind the maître d’. Connolly was already at the table, waiting. He stood when he saw her approaching and moved to hold her chair for her.
She sat, thanked him and took the menu from the waiter.
“What’s good here?” she asked her host.
“Honestly? Everything,” he replied. “The fish is flown in from the Mediterranean daily and the beef is grass-fed from Australia.”
They exchanged small talk while waiting for dinner and then mostly ate in silence. The food was superb, everything Annja had expected it to be, and she was able to put the day’s events behind her and enjoy the evening.
While they were waiting for dessert, Connolly removed an iPad from an attaché case at his feet and turned it on. Without any explanation, he placed the iPad on the table in front of her. On the screen was the image of an ancient metal scroll similar to the ones she’d been looking at that afternoon at the Shrine of the Book. In fact she thought at first she was looking at the Copper Scroll again. Except that the Copper Scroll had been cut into fragments to open it; this one was intact. The writing, however, appeared to also be the same Hebrew lettering.
Without looking up, she asked, “Is it copper?”
“Bronze, actually, though a tin alloy rather than an arsenic base.”
That would make the metal easier to work with while at the same time eliminating the danger of working with arsenic for the metallurgist.
She picked up the iPad and brought it closer, trying to make out the Hebrew characters. She recognized a few, but unfortunately, ancient Hebrew was not one of her fortes.
“Swipe the screen to the left to see an English translation,” Connolly suggested.
The translated document was laid out as the scroll had been, with two columns stretching down either side of the page, each with thirty-two separate stanzas. That similarity to the Copper Scroll didn’t escape her.
Annja felt a surge of excitement. Could it be?
She looked up and caught Connolly watching her. Something about the expression on his face made her ask, “Is it real?”
He nodded. “As far as I can tell. I’ve had a variety of tests done on it and my people are confident it isn’t a hoax. Whether the information on it is correct or not, well, that’s another issue.”
Annja shook her head. “That’s the only issue, actually.”
“Ah, so you recognize it, don’t you?”
Now it was her turn to shrug. “I know what I think it is, at least. Whether you and I consider it to be the same thing remains to be seen.”
Connolly laughed. “Are you always this careful with what you say?”
“Of course. Aren’t you?”
“Touché, Ms. Creed, touché.” He smiled wryly, paused a moment to take a sip of his drink and then went on. “I’m also a man who believes in getting to the point.
“The scroll, which I’m calling the Bronze Scroll for obvious reasons, was discovered during an excavation at Masada in 2001. It was immediately placed in a private collection and remained there until I acquired that collection last month as partial payment on a business debt.”
He paused before continuing. “I’m convinced that the Bronze Scroll is the mate to the Copper Scroll at the shrine. Either one alone is useless but, together, they should lead us right to the ancient Jewish Temple’s hidden caches.”
“Us?” Annja asked.
“Yes, us. I would like to hire you to run the expedition for me. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, money is not an issue. You’ll have the very best of whatever you need to get the job done.”
“Why not just do it yourself?”
“Me?” Connolly asked with a laugh. “What the hell do I know about running an expedition?”
Annja had to give him credit for knowing his limits. Organizing and running an archaeological dig of this size and magnitude would be an absolute bear. An experienced hand was going to be needed to make certain they had the right people and equipment, never mind the various permits that were going to be needed. Of course, whatever they found would belong to the Israeli government, but they’d get their ten percent finder’s fee, which would be more than enough given the size of the treasure they expected to find. If she started now, she could work on the details between assignments for Chasing History’s Monsters and perhaps have everything ready for spring….
“I’ll be along for the ride,” Connolly added, “but you’ll be in charge of the details. There is, however, one caveat.”
“Which is?”
“Everything has to be ready to go within seventy-two hours.”
Annja nearly choked on her wine.
Seventy-two hours? He can’t be serious…
“The permits I have in place with the Israeli government will expire in three days. If that happens, I’ll be forced to wait until next year before launching the expedition,” Connolly told her. “Too much can happen. Knowledge of the scroll could leak to the wrong parties, another explorer might stumble upon one of the caches. Hell, the Arabs and Israelis might go to war! Those are risks I’m not willing to take. But if the effort is under way, the permit’s extension clause is activated and I can stay in the field with my team an extra ninety days.”
He stared intensely across the table at her. “Seventy-two hours. Not a moment longer. Can you do it?”
Annja’s thoughts whirled. Connolly had said that money was no object. There shouldn’t be a problem recruiting experienced hands, either, especially not once they heard she’d be able to pay them a decent wage. Hell, she’d have to beat them off with a stick.
For once, her own schedule wouldn’t be a problem, either. She had a week left of her vacation time and she was sure she could swing more, especially if the information on the Bronze Scroll turned out to be correct. If that happened, she knew her producer, Doug Morrell, would give his left leg to get Chasing History’s Monsters involved in the discovery. It was just too big an archaeological find for the show to ignore. Not even the lack of a monster associated with the legend of the Copper Scroll would slow Morrell down once he was determined to be involved. He’d just invent one if he needed to.
The events at the Shrine of the Book earlier that afternoon gave her another reason to accept the offer. Being out in the field would make it harder for her enemies, whoever they were, to track her down and would reduce the chance of innocent people being injured in the crossfire if they did. That gunman could have injured a number of bystanders and caused considerable damage to the artifacts in the shrine if he had opened up as he’d threatened to do. Laying low would help her avoid any potentially dangerous situations of a similar nature.
At least for the time being.
Decision made, she looked up at Connolly and said the words he had been waiting to hear.
“You’ve got yourself an expedition leader.”
Chapter 7
Organizing an expedition, regardless of the size, was never easy. Putting one together at the last minute was most likely next to impossible. Annja knew this and yet she was determined to meet the deadline because doing so meant she’d be able to get to work solving the mystery of the Bronze and Copper scrolls that much faster. Never mind the little issue of losing her spot on the expedition if they had to wait another season to get the permits reissued.
Before the end of their meal the previous night, Connolly had told her she was free to use office space at the local branch of Excelsior Mining and Gas (EMG) and she showed up outside their front door shortly after nine this morning, ready to get to work. The secretary had been apprised of her arrival and Annja was quickly shown to a large corner office that looked out onto the street behind the building. Anticipating that she would need some help, Connolly had also arranged for one of his senior V
Ps, Martin Grimes, to assist in whatever way she thought necessary.
Grimes was in his mid-thirties, a hard-looking no-nonsense individual who was intimately familiar with the breadth and scope of Connolly’s vast empire and who apparently didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He was there waiting for her when she arrived and didn’t waste any time rolling up his sleeves and diving into the task before them.
She compiled a list of all the gear they would need to support the team in the field and to properly excavate each site. Since Grimes had direct access to the expense account Connolly had set up for the expedition, she handed the list over to him and left it in his hands to secure the items. That left her free to deal with personnel and logistics.
A fair amount of the work on the latter had already been done, she quickly discovered. The permits were quite extensive and upon seeing them she instantly understood why Connolly didn’t want them to go to waste. The Israeli government had hired Connolly’s mining company to survey the Negev Desert for mineral and natural gas deposits. The agreement basically gave them carte blanche to go where they wanted outside the settled regions to drill for samples. The language was written rather loosely, no doubt something Connolly had pushed for knowing what he intended to do with the permits, and would easily cover any excavation work. Anything found under the auspices of the permit had to be reported to the government, which helped the slight concern she still had that Connolly might abscond with the treasure.
Satisfied that the expedition would be operating within the bounds of the law, Annja turned her attention to rounding up some experienced hands. Connolly might see this as a hunt for buried treasure, but Annja certainly didn’t. If they actually found what they were looking for, it would have considerable import as an archaeological find and she needed to make sure they properly documented and handled their finds. There were plenty of senior archaeologists she would love to have as part of the expedition, but it was unrealistic to expect them to drop whatever they were doing to join her dig on a day’s notice. Which meant she was going to have to go to an entirely different well.
She picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory, which connected her to the switchboard at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem’s Institute of Archaeology. When the operator answered, Annja asked to be connected to Professor Ephraim Yellin. A few moments later a gruff, male voice came on the line.
“Hello?”
“Ephraim? It’s Annja.”
“Annja! How good to hear from you. Has that T.V. program been keeping you busy?”
“More than I like to think about,” she admitted with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Well, then you need to get back in the field. Get your hands dirty. Archaeologists can’t be away from the earth too long, you know. Makes us cranky!”
Isn’t that the truth. “That’s exactly why I’m calling, Ephraim. I need your help with something field-related.”
“Ask away, my dear girl.”
The two had met at a symposium several years ago and had become fast friends, despite the fact that Ephraim was at least thirty years her senior. She’d been planning to stop in to see him later this week. Until her dinner with Connolly the night before changed more than a few of her plans.
“I’m putting together a dig at the last minute. Just a small one, mind you, but I need extra hands to help with the field work.”
“Tsk, tsk. Always in a hurry, aren’t you, Annja?” he said, good-naturedly. “No matter. Tell me what you are after and I’ll see if I can help.”
Annja had an answer ready for him, even though she hated keeping the full truth secret. “It’s nothing really, just a client with a lead on the site of a possible first-century Roman encampment. I need four, maybe five people on the ground with me to handle the client’s request. Nothing fancy, basic experience will do.”
“First-century Roman, huh? A little outside your usual area, isn’t it?”
Annja’s professional expertise was in European history. “Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me that change is good for the soul, Ephraim? I needed to get my hands dirty and the opportunity fell into my lap. Do you think you can help me round up extra help?”
“If you don’t mind graduate students, I can probably get you half a dozen or so. When do you need them?”
“Tomorrow morning?”
It sounded as if he was choking. “A hurry is right! No matter. I’ll have them by early tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks. I owe you one, Ephraim.”
“You owe me more than one, Annja. But don’t worry, I’ll just add it to your tab.” Ephraim was laughing as he ended the call.
Knowing her need for warm bodies was taken care of, Annja turned her attention to scaring up the rest of the equipment they would need. She had given Grimes a list of the common supplies necessary for camp life, from tents to the many gallons of water they were no doubt going to consume under the desert sun, leaving her to procure the more dig-specific gear herself. A few calls to some friends in the field gave her the numbers of half a dozen suppliers in Jerusalem, and the fact that money wasn’t an issue allowed her to have the gear delivered right to Connelly’s offices starting that very afternoon. What she couldn’t find directly from the suppliers she was able to beg from the antiquities departments of two of the local universities.
Grimes came back sometime in the midafternoon and dropped six sets of keys on the desk in front of her.
“What are these for?” she asked.
“Take a look out the window and see.”
Annja got up, walked over to the window he was indicating and spread the slats of the blinds open with one hand. Parked outside in the lot behind the building were six Land Cruisers, outfitted for expedition work with off-road tires and roof racks brimming with equipment. Three of the six were equipped with front-mounted winches and each of them had spare tanks of gasoline in racks mounted on the rear doors.
“Wow! Terrific,” she told him. “But why six? We’ll have less than two people per vehicle.”
“You’re forgetting about Mr. Connolly’s security team.”
Security team? How could she forget about a security team she hadn’t heard anything about yet? She said as much to Grimes.
“Sorry. Must have been an oversight. After the events at the museum the other day, I’ve advised Mr. Connolly not to go anywhere without a nine-man security detail. They will accompany him on the expedition, but won’t interfere in any way unless something occurs to put him in danger. I’ve taken the liberty of expanding your supply list to accommodate the eight extras.”
“Eight? I thought you said the security detail had nine men in it?”
“I’m the ninth,” Grimes said with a smile that was distinctly predatory.
Annja realized that ending up on the wrong side of a confrontation with the man would most likely be unpleasant for all involved. Very unpleasant.
Chapter 8
Annja arrived outside the building that housed Ephraim’s office the next morning behind the wheel of one of their new expedition vehicles and found six people and a pile of gear waiting for her. She parked, got out of the truck and approached the closest, a stocky gray-haired man of about sixty.
“Well, if it isn’t the famous television star herself!” Ephraim said as she drew near.
She couldn’t help but match his wide smile with one of her own. “It’s good to see you, too, old friend.” She made sure to overemphasize the word old, then laughed with him at their habitual welcome.
She turned and surveyed the group. They were all in their early twenties, closer to Doug Morrell’s age than her own, and seeing them made her flash back to England and her first major dig at Hadrian’s Wall. It had been an amazing experience and she had no doubt this crew was going to remember this dig for the rest of their lives.
Espe
cially once we tell them what we’re hunting for.
There were three men and two women waiting patiently behind Ephraim, and Annja introduced herself. Benjamin Natchyu was Israeli and doing Ph.D. work on the Second Temple period of Jewish history. He’d worked with Ephraim on several of his expeditions and had the most field experience among the students. Mike Collins and Tony Green were big Midwestern boys from the University of Arkansas, where they were doing masters-level work on Paleolithic settlements and their impact on the rise of agriculture. They were currently in Jerusalem as part of an exchange program and had jumped at the chance to get out of the classroom and participate in an actual dig.
“Wow!” Tony said when Annja introduced herself. “You’re even more beautiful in person than you are on television.” He immediately flushed bright red, which of course ruined the suave, man-of-the-world persona he was trying to project. That made Annja like him all the more.
“Ignore the big guy over there,” one of the two women said good-naturedly. “He tries hard but I don’t think he’d know what to do with himself if you or any other woman responded to his come-ons.”
Mike roared with laughter and slapped Tony on the back. Tony flushed even brighter if that was at all possible and shot the tall blonde the finger, smiling all the while. Annja decided that she might just like this little group.
The woman who’d spoken turned out to be Susan Hollister. A lithe blonde with pale blue eyes and an athlete’s physique. She hailed from London, spoke with a clipped British accent and had come to Jerusalem specifically to study with Professor Yellin.
Her friend, Rachel Golan, was a good four inches shorter, with a figure that could best be called plump and long dark hair the color of mud. Like Benjamin, she was a native Israeli, but had fallen into archaeology and wasn’t sure yet if she intended to dedicate her life to it. When Hollister announced she was volunteering to join the group, Golan had quickly followed suit.
“All right, children,” Ephraim finally said, “settle down. I’m sure Annja has more to do today than listen to the lot of you trade insults. Let’s get the gear packed up and be on our way.”