The Kabbalistic Murder Code: Mystery & International Conspiracies (Historical Crime Thriller Book 1)

by Nathan Erez

  He was deep in thought about this puzzling contradiction, when the incessant ringing of the phone broke the silence, startling him no end.

  “Hello,” he managed to splutter, before another coughing spell began.

  “Hello. Is that you, Professor Shemtov?” the voice asked.

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Are you ill?” It was Norman, and Elijah almost threw up at Norman’s exaggerated courtesy.

  “No, no, I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Don’t worry about Mei-Ling. She’ll be flying to Australia, out of harm’s way.”

  “I’m very happy to hear that.”

  “Elijah, I’ve found what I’ve been looking for! I’d like you to come over to verify that what I’ve found is the original before I buy it.”

  “Fine,” replied Elijah, “but where and when?”

  Norman briefed him about the technical details. The flight would leave on Sunday. Elijah would arrive the same day, and they would begin work immediately. While Norman did not foresee the work taking any great length of time, Elijah should take into account that more might be required. The return flight would leave at noon the following day. Elijah marked down the details.

  “But why can’t I fly there directly? And where is this place - Formentera?”

  “It’s a small Spanish island. Years ago I bought a house there. The island does not have an airport of its own, so you have to fly to Barcelona and from there to Ibiza, where I’ll arrange for you to be picked up.” Norman hung up, and Elijah returned to his ruminations.

  Rabbi Akiba was one of the leading spiritual leaders of the Jewish people after the destruction of the Second Temple.

  He decided to follow a different train of thought. If the Temple Mount is the key to everything holy, we have to reexamine the destruction of the Second Temple. As a result of the destruction of the First Temple, the Jewish people went into exile in Babylon. The exile in Babylon clarified a lot about Norman. What could Elijah learn from the destruction of the Second Temple?

  His mind seemed to have hit a mental block. He couldn’t answer the question in any meaningful way. All he could think about was the parallel between that time and the way the Jews of the 21st century are split and how deep are the divisions within the Jewish people. Evidently, there had been no great change in that regard. Elijah was weak and exhausted, and was afraid that all this was because he had started working for the accursed Institute. He went home, but there, too, he was unable to unwind.

  Elijah and Orna were fully aware of the risks involved in the trip to Spain; the closer Norman came to locating the next scroll, the greater the danger to Elijah.

  “Don’t worry. Norman will keep you safe so long as he hasn’t deciphered all the clues,” Orna said, in an attempt to reassure him. “I’ll be rooting for you from here and will continue to search for this Gardi fellow. So far, I haven’t located anyone with that name in any Israeli hospital. For all we know, he could have been discharged from the hospital after that note was written.”

  “Unless he died - from natural causes, or otherwise.” Elijah’s comment reflected his gloom.

  “In any event, I plan to start working backward chronologically until I find him.”

  “Thanks, Orna dearest,” he said, trying not to show how worried he really was.

  Early on Sunday morning, Elijah arrived at Ben Gurion Airport and made his way to the Spanish national airline counter. The woman at the counter smiled at him with one of those smiles reserved for important passengers, a smile which one just had to revel in. As expected, his flight ticket was waiting for him. It was for Ibiza via Barcelona; arrival time 10:00 am. The return flight was Monday at 11:00 am. Not surprisingly, the letters “VIP” had been stamped on the ticket. Well, well, I’ve become a Very Important Person, he thought to himself, but found no comfort in the fact. He could not stop worrying. How long will I continue to remain important?

  At Barcelona, a representative of the airline was waiting for him, and she led him to the domestic flights terminal. It was a short flight, and half an hour after leaving Barcelona, he landed in Ibiza. As he had almost no luggage with him, he passed through Customs with no problem and was the first passenger to reach the outside reception area.

  “Good morning, Professor Shemtov,” he heard a woman’s voice behind him. Even from those few words, he realized that the person spoke English with difficulty and with a heavy Spanish accent. He turned to see who had called him. The woman must have been about thirty years old. She had large black eyes and long, curly black hair. She wore a short white dress that accentuated her slim figure. She really is very pretty, thought Elijah to himself.

  “I’m pleased to meet you. I am Ruth, Mr. Norman’s housekeeper. I’ve come to pick you up.”

  “It’s my pleasure. I’ll follow wherever you lead.”

  Ruth smiled, and they walked out of the terminal. As soon as they stepped outside, the torrid heat and bright sunshine took him by surprise. He was used to heat, because Spain’s climate was much like Israel’s, but as a resident of Jerusalem, he was used to its cool, dry climate. The high humidity here seemed to seep through every pore of his body and made him sweat profusely, caused him almost unbearable discomfort. Yes, Tel Aviv was no less humid, but people who lived in Jerusalem were spared it. The two entered a taxi that was waiting for them at the curb. He was delighted to find that the taxi was air-conditioned. Ruth said something to the driver in Spanish, and they drove off.

  “Is this your first visit here?” she asked Elijah, with a bewitching smile.

  “Yes.”

  “Ibiza is one of the four large islands of the Balearic Islands. We are close to the Spanish coast, and there are a number of other small, uninhabited islands in the area. The large islands are Palma de Mallorca, Menorca, Ibiza, and Formentera. Until relatively recently, they were isolated and the people subsisted on agriculture. In the 1960s, many American hippies came here, but in the last thirty years the islands have become vacation resorts. Formentera is a small island. It is great to live here in the winter, when there are no more than five thousand residents on the entire island. However, in the summer we are swamped with tourists.”

  “Well, shouldn’t that justify building an airport?”

  “The island is so small that there isn’t even room for an airport. There are only two gas stations on the entire island. The only way to reach Formentera is by sea. There is a ferry, but it is easy to reach the island by motorboat. We are going to the port, where a small boat awaits us. You’ll enjoy the trip.”

  The drive to the port took very little time. To Elijah, the port seemed minuscule. The taxi drove into the port until it reached a locked gate. A guard stood at the gate and he and Ruth broke into a heated argument.

  “He refuses to let you enter. He says we need a special permit, which has to be obtained a week in advance. The taxi driver will drive you to a different place, where I’ll be waiting for you with the boat.” Every kind of alarm bell went off in Elijah’s mind, along with revolving blue police lamps. Everything pointed to imminent danger. He didn’t say anything, but he certainly did not radiate any signs of joy.

  The driver took Elijah to the end of the dock and signaled to him to leave the taxi. The driver didn’t know a word of English, and Elijah was unable to communicate with him. He left the taxi and was again subjected to a blast of humid heat, which seemed to smother him. A man approached him and stood by his side, stared at the water and lit a cigarette. The man began speaking to Elijah in a soft undertone. Elijah didn’t understand a word. If he had been worried up to now, all the bells in his head seemed to explode in a raucous cacophony of sound. The man was clearly stronger than he, and much taller. Elijah sized up his opponent and instinctively backed off, taking care not to get any closer to the water. If a car came and tried to kidnap him, what would he do? Was Ruth one of the gang that intended to kidnap him? His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of a boat approaching. Ruth waved to him, and the stranger le
ft.

  “Did you receive any interesting offers?” Ruth laughed. Elijah smiled nervously. He couldn’t understand the local humor.

  “This island is full of gays and lesbians. He is one of them,” Ruth explained, and Elijah relaxed. The so-called “boat” which Ruth had promised to bring was, in reality, a four-seater yacht equipped with a bedroom, a kitchen, and a toilet. Ruth steered the yacht skillfully, as if driving a familiar car. She dialed a number on her cellular phone and handed it to Elijah. The line was rather noisy, but Elijah could still hear Norman’s voice.

  “I have the scroll,” said Norman. “It’s waiting for you. You’ll be here in about forty minutes, and then we can work on it together. I’m anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

  “By the way,” said Ruth cheerfully, “my friend Isabel, whom you probably will meet tonight, is bisexual.”

  That set Elijah to thinking in a different direction: was Ruth a lesbian? That might or might not be relevant. He needed to assess every single fact and its implications carefully, because he felt his very life depended on his ability to do so speedily and accurately. He would somehow have to overcome the problem of his total ignorance of the Kabbalah, and the different texts that he had been gathering for Norman were an enigma to him.

  The trip itself took about half an hour. At least as long as they were sailing, the strong breeze dissipated some of the effects of the scorching sun. The dock on Formentera was very small and showed gross signs of neglect. Ruth weaved her way into the port and soon moored the yacht. A young man of possibly eighteen ran over and tied it down. Ruth had a brief conversation with the young man before she and Elijah got into a jeep parked nearby.

  “Emmanuel maintains the yacht when it’s in port,” Ruth explained casually.

  With Ruth at the wheel they drove off, soon driving along the single road through Formentera. On both sides of the road, he could see the ocean; the strong sunlight blinded him, forcing him to squint. Now they started ascending a hill. The scenery naturally changed. Dense vegetation on both sides - trees and bushes - gave one the feeling of driving through a forest. Numerous unpaved roads leading to private homes branched off from the main road; some of the houses were near the road, others further off.

  “We’re here,” said Ruth.

  Elijah looked around, but could see no path or building. Ruth turned suddenly onto a dirt path, indiscernible among the surrounding vegetation. Only when they were actually on it, could he see the faint outline of the path. She drove for about twenty yards, sometimes pushing aside foliage that blocked the way. Suddenly, ahead of them Elijah saw an old, simple electricity-powered barrier, and a small yellow sign proclaiming “Private Property.” Ruth pressed a remote control button from inside the jeep, and the barrier came up. Once past the barrier, they drove for another thirty yards among the trees and before he realized it, Elijah found that they were driving on a superb asphalt road, although it was quite narrow and suitable for only one car at a time.

  Ruth drove slowly for about a hundred yards, as the road kept twisting and turning, finally stopping in front of a white two-story house, which appeared to be a very modest abode. Close to it was a large single-story structure, whose purpose Elijah could not even guess at.

  They entered and immediately found themselves in the large, circular living room. On the walls were clusters of small windows, through which light poured in to light up the interior. Four strategically placed sofas effectively divided the room into distinct areas. Throughout the room there were bookcases stuffed with books. The impression given was of coziness and Elijah felt tempted to sit down on one of the couches. When he looked up, he saw that the room’s ceiling consisted of a perfectly symmetrical dome.

  “I shall go and call Mr. Norman. Meanwhile, what type of music would you like to hear?”

  “Whatever you think is appropriate,” said Elijah, as he took a seat on one of the couches. Because of the way the room had been built with its domed ceiling, every word that anyone said was echoed back and forth. Elijah was surprised that Norman was willing to put up with so poor an acoustical area.

  Ruth opened a cabinet in one of the corners and pressed a number of buttons. To Elijah’s surprise, one of the walls slowly opened to reveal a picture window. As the wall opened, so did one half of the dome. Elijah took in the breathtaking view. Facing him was the Mediterranean and to the left the lower part of the island. Ruth chose a track that combined a Gregorian chant with Hasidic soul music, ethereal music. Elijah examined a large map of the area hanging on the wall. On the map, Formentera looked like a kid with a long neck that drank from the waters of the Mediterranean, while Ibiza watched on patronizingly, like an older brother. Elijah closed his eyes and let his imagination carry him away.

  He had almost dozed off when he heard Norman’s familiar voice. “Professor Shemtov!” He opened his eyes, startled, and noticed that the music had stopped. Norman was dressed simply, in black slacks and a blue short-sleeved shirt. He appeared to be even more nearsighted than ever, as he put out his hand to shake Elijah’s. Elijah stood up hastily and shook the man’s outstretched hand.

  “I think I must have dozed off,” he apologized.

  Norman led Elijah through the furniture in the room, and it seemed to Elijah that his host was unable to see the different pieces but had memorized their locations. In one of the corners, which had been hidden by a square wooden beam, stood a spiral staircase. Norman climbed it, feeling his way with the help of the banister. Elijah followed. The room in which he found himself, evidently a study, also had a domed ceiling, made of clear glass. The view was spectacular, and there was a feeling that the desk was positioned in the middle of the woods.

  Norman pressed a number of buttons, and the dome was concealed by white curtains. Next he opened a drawer and carefully drew out a wooden box.

  As Elijah looked at the scroll that Norman had removed from the box, Norman played around with the computer on the desk next to him. He spoke into a microphone, and the much-enlarged computer screen image was projected onto the wall.

  “I have an invention which enables whatever I say to be translated into text on the computer screen - a voice recognition program,” Norman volunteered.

  They worked efficiently, with no unnecessary chatter. Elijah analyzed the text on the scroll using a magnifying glass, the ultimate low-tech antithesis to Norman’s display of computer pyrotechnics. Elijah went through the scroll letter by letter. As he verified each letter, Norman spoke it into the microphone, and it appeared on the wall, enlarged. By now, Elijah almost knew the entire text off by heart. He waited expectantly, though, for the seventh line, and when he got there he made sure to repeat the letters in the same monotonous tone, so as not to alert Norman of his knowledge of the codes embedded there.

  Not unexpectedly, the seventh line was unique. What it stated was different from anything in any of the other scrolls: “When you reach the pure marble rocks, do not say, ‘Water, water.’”

  Elijah continued reading the text, a task that took another hour to complete.

  There was a soft knock on the open door. Ruth waited outside. Elijah noted that she had not even considered entering the room.

  “This appears to me to be an original scroll, written by Nehemiah of Peki’in,” said Elijah, even though he knew that his statement was totally unnecessary. There was no doubt that the scroll was genuine, and Norman was fully aware of that fact. Elijah had only been brought there to read the text because of Norman’s problem with his vision.

  Norman was satisfied. “Well, that’s that. Ruth has come to invite us to lunch.”

  Lunch was served in the dining room, which overlooked the Mediterranean. It was a vegetarian meal consisting of mushrooms, fruit, and various juices. The food was served by Maria, a woman about fifty years old.

  Elijah saw Norman and Ruth exchanging glances, and wondered about the relationship between them. Norman was a good forty years older than Ruth, but Elijah was convinced this was not a normal
employer-employee relationship.

  Norman and Ruth chatted away in Spanish. Elijah didn’t understand a word, but this was the first time he had heard Norman speak it, and to his unpracticed ear it sounded like Norman spoke it like a native. Again Elijah wondered about where Norman had originally hailed from.

  After lunch, Norman suggested that Ruth give Elijah a tour of the island, after which they would pick up Ruth’s friend Isabel in Ibiza and return.

  They drove but a short distance before stopping at an old windmill.

  “Many hippies lived here during the 1960s. You see that house next to the windmill? Bob Dylan lived there for two months. This entire area was built up about 250 years ago. The windmill still works to this day, and it is one of the oldest functioning ones in Europe.”

  Elijah looked at the house in which Bob Dylan had lived. The house seemed quite unimpressed by that fact.

  “The local residents always lived here in relative tranquility. For example, the Inquisition never came to Ibiza, and certainly not to Formentera. Even the Spanish Civil War was not felt here. During the Franco era, this was one of the few places that managed to evade censorship and dictatorship, which is why the hippies discovered and were drawn to it. It was remote, far from anywhere else. You could even say it was cut off from the rest of the world.” She seemed to be carried away by her own voice.

  Suddenly, in front of the house that Bob Dylan had used, another piece of the puzzle snapped into place. There just had to be a connection between the hippies, Odel Weiss, and John McDonald. In her article, Weiss had hinted that McDonald had wandered through Spain. Would a hippie such as he comes to Spain to take part in the Civil War? No way! He would come here to chill out. And if Bob Dylan too had been here, it was a clear indication that this place was not that much off the beaten track.