The Boudicca Parchments (Daniel Klein adventures)

by Adam Palmer

  “I didn’t stay to hear.”

  “What do you mean, ‘stay to hear’?”

  “I didn’t manage to shoot them. But there was no need.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Baruch explained how he had trapped them in the underground cavern with the heavy stone and bragged how even he had great trouble lifting it. But before he could finish his explanation his father interrupted him in a tone of unmitigated rage.

  “Have you been sent from Shamayim to be a curse upon me!”

  It took no more than these words to his strong, tall, powerfully built son, into a fit of tears like a small child. His father was angry. But what had he done wrong? He had done as his father had told him. He had killed Daniel Klein and the other man. Why should his father be angry?

  “I don’t understand,” said Baruch, in the tone of a little girl, as the tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “Do you think the cavern is nothing but a sealed chamber? It is an aqueduct – like Hezekiah’s tunnel! They can escape!”

  “But I thought Hezekiah’s tunnel was… was…”

  “There are two aqueducts! And this one is the other one!”

  “I am sorry. I am sorry!”

  “Never mind that now! Tears are for fools. Do you have the car with you?”

  “I parked it near the Sultan’s Pool.”

  “Okay come to the house of Aryeh. And be careful that you are not followed. Tomorrow we have work to do! I intend to end this once and for all!”

  Chapter 75

  “How much farther?” asked Ted. Despite his general fitness and his regular work-out regime, the long walk and crawl was beginning to take its toll. They had been going for nearly four hours now. If it had been a normal walk for Ted, that would have translated into at least fifteen miles. But this was a staggered walk in fits and starts over uneven ground, partly in high-ceilinged narrow tunnels, partly in stooping passages and partly in crawling “pipes” where the greatest strain was in his knees, as the pressed into and rubbed against the hard stone.

  “I’d say we’re very nearly there,” Daniel replied, puffing like a worn-out locomotive. Despite following a fitness regime himself, on the advice of his nephews, he too was feeling the strain.

  “Nearly where?”

  “I think we’ve passed Abu Tor… well past by now. That means we’re under the promenade that overlooks Jerusalem. The one that leads to the Hill of Evil Counsel.”

  Ted looked at his watch.

  “You know it’s four in the morning!”

  “I know. It’ll be dawn soon. That could be useful.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if there are any openings, we’ll be able to see them from the light shining through… once there is light.”

  “What do you mean if there are any openings? Does that mean there might not be?”

  “There are some. I mean I know there’s one at the entrance to the forest near Government House.”

  “Government House?”

  “The UN Building. It used to be the residence of the British High Commissioner. But it’ll be a lot easier to find if we’ve got some light.”

  They crawled on, for a long time, and at some point they saw light streaming in.

  “It’s up there,” said Daniel, pointing to an almost vertical shaft.. “How’s your tension climbing skill?”

  “Never tried,” said Ted. “But I work out with weights so I reckon I’ve got the upper body strength.

  They flipped a coin for who was going first and Daniel won – or lost… depending on how you looked at it.

  Ted made an interlocked hand-stirrup for Daniel to enable him to reach the beginning of the shaft. Daniel stepped on it, lifted his other leg clear of the ground and inserted his arms, placing the palms of his hands on opposite sides of the wall of the shaft. Then he raised his free leg and places his foot against one wall. Finally, pressing against the walls with three limbs and his upper back, he lifted his foot from the stirrup Ted had formed and placed it too against one side of the shaft wall, higher than the other foot.

  Now, fully supported by the tension of his own limbs against the walls of the shaft, he raised first one hand then the other, to a higher level, placing each one against the wall and pressing hard. Then he released the tension of his lower leg and placed it against the wall in a higher position, again applying pressure.

  In this way he was able to climb the short distance up to the top of the shaft from whence the light was entering. But then he came upon a problem.

  “It’s not good news,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “Stand clear, I’m coming down.”

  “What is it?” Ted repeated.

  “It’s blocked. Stand clear.

  Ted stood clear, while Daniel climbed down part of the way and – when his foot detected empty space – dropped the last few feet. He felt his ankle twisting and regretted doing it that way.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Ted.

  “I know there’s another exit. But it’s a few hundred yards further up.”

  “I can make it.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” said Daniel, grimacing as he took a step forward on his twisted ankle.

  They carried on, and Daniel felt the pain in his twisted ankle. Ted looked back a couple of times, as if asking if he should wait. But Daniel shook his head, rejecting the sympathy. He noticed that by stretching his foot and walking on the ball of the foot, he could negate much of the pain. In any case it soon became irrelevant as a drastic drop in the ceiling height forced them to resume crawling.

  It was maybe fifteen minutes later when they noticed another shaft of light entering the tunnel this time from the side. They had to climb slightly and then squeeze through an aperture that seemed like the birth passage of a new born baby. But with a lot of pushing and twisting and sharp intakes of breath, they managed finally to emerge on the side of a slope overlooking a valley illuminated by the light of dawn.

  The valley was silent at this dawn hour, except for the sounds of the muezzin in the distant mosque, calling the faithful to prayer. But it was not an empty valley. It was occupied by a large low building and several others further away of four or five stories, all clad in cream-coloured Jerusalem Stone. As they stood up, looking around and brushing the dust and dirt off their clothes, Daniel was looking in the other direction, up the slope of the hill where they had emerged to a garden with a white painted fence.

  Daniel raised his right index finger to his lips and then pointed to the fence. Behind it was not only a garden but a row of buildings that were something between houses and flats – middle eastern style homes attached and in some cases one atop the other, but with separate entrances.

  As Daniel approached the fence, Ted followed with some degree of confusion if not trepidation. The white fence was of uneven height, but Daniel selected the lowest part and climbed over. Ted did likewise and found himself in a garden that had potted plants and cacti around the borders, but white tiles occupying the bulk of the surface area. To their right, in the corner was a swinging love-seat on a green-painted metal frame, sheltered by its own awning, as well as by a green-painted wrought iron gazebo, covered in clinging vines.

  But that was not where Daniel’s attention was focussed. It was on the house, and in particular the metal garden doors and the shutters behind them that ran down to ground level. As Daniel approached the shutters, Ted sensed movement behind them and wanted to warn Daniel. But he didn’t want to shout and disturb anyone at this time of the morning. In a few seconds, Ted realized what was happening. The shutters were slowly rising. And from the rumbling whirring sound and the slow, steady rate at which they rising, it was clear that they being operated not by a human hand but a motor.

  And while they were still rising a sliding glass door was opening behind them to reveal a man in his early eighties, looking at Daniel through the metal garden door, as he inserted a key and open it.

  “What are you
doing here?” asked the man.

  But the voice was not hostile. It was surprised, to be sure, but tinged with a trace of pleasure. Daniel half-turned towards the archaeologist behind him.

  “Ted. Meet my father.”

  Chapter 76

  “Wake up! Wake up!”

  Shalom Tikva was shaking his son’s arm. He had entered the living room of the friend’s house where they had both been hiding out and was now rousing his son aggressively. For most of the night, Baruch Tikva had slept a fitful sleep after arriving at Aryeh’s house. And now, just as he was finally nodding off in the small hours of the morning, his father was waking up.

  “Wha… what? What is it?”

  “We must get up and recite Shaharis.”

  The word Shaharis was the Ashkenazi classical Hebrew pronunciation of Shaharit – this was the morning service, recited by orthodox Jews either quietly and individually or out loud by a minyan, a quorum of ten males aged 13 or over.

  Baruch got up and staggered to the bathroom.

  “Why so early?” he called out. “We can davan later.”

  We can pray later.

  “No we can’t. We have something to do.”

  “What?” Baruch called out over the sound of running water.

  “We are going to rid the face of Israel of our enemies.”

  “But how do you know where they are?” Baruch called out.”

  “I know where they have to go. They will go where this ends. They will go where it started.”

  “And where did it start?” he asked, shouting to be heard over the water.

  “Where the sinners took their lives… where the woman died.”

  “But how will we rid ourselves of them?”

  The water stopped.

  “I met a Palestinian friend,” said Shalom Tikva. “He gave me something… as a favour.”

  When Baruch Tikva emerged from the bathroom, he saw that his father was holding a hand grenade.

  Chapter 77

  “And you think that the answer is at Masada?” asked Helen, as they sat together at the breakfast table.

  “That’s the only place it can be,” Daniel replied. “We know from the Temple Mount Parchment that when Bar Giora emerged from below ground and was captured by the Romans, he gave his wife, and the rest of the group, strict instructions to make their way to Masada. We know that Eleazer Ben Yair was his right hand man and we know that Ben Yair made it back to Masada. So we must assume that Lanosea did too.”

  “But what do you expect to find there? Masada has been thoroughly excavated.”

  “Actually it hasn’t. The north and west have, but the southern part somewhat less. And the eastern part not at all. There was an unwritten agreement among archaeologists not to excavate everything, but to leave some things to future generations.”

  “But you can’t just start digging there.”

  “I’m not going to dig. But we can look.”

  “And what do you expect to find?

  “I don’t know. I guess that’s the fun of looking.”

  After Daniel had explained to Helen and his father, Bernie, about their adventures, both in England and in the Old City, they had taken turns in the shower and Bernie had supplied them both with a change of clothes, although in the case of Ted, the legs and sleeves were a bit short because of the height difference.

  Now they were tucking into a hearty breakfast at Chez Klein, including smoked salmon, pickled herring, fried eggs, Emek cheese (similar to Edam or Gouda), rye bread, mini-Chala – the best bread rolls Ted had ever tasted – and fresh salad that really was a salad, not just soggy lettuce, comprising a mixture of tomatoes, cucumber, green peppers and radishes. You couldn’t fault the Kleins (senior) when it came to hospitality.

  “Are you sure you’re not just going to get yourselves arrested?” asked Helen.

  “Or worse,” added Bernie.

  Even though Daniel was in his forties, his father still spoke to him as if he were a child, or at best a teenager.

  “We’ll be careful,” said Daniel.

  Ted was listening in silence… and amusement.

  “I still don’t see what you can hope to find,” said Helen.

  Earlier on, she had surprised both of them by telling them that she had been part of the Hebrew University team that had helped the Vatican Library with the restoration of the waterlogged Domus Aurea Parchment.

  “We might not find anything. But I think that after everything we’ve been through so far, it’s worth a try. At minimum I’ll be able to ask the information people there some questions that might help us further. Maybe with the results we’ve already got we might be able to persuade the Antiquities Authority to allow a new dig. Ted here has a formidable reputation as an archaeologist and I like to think I have some caché as linguist.”

  “I wouldn’t place too much confidence in the Antiquities Authority,” said Helen.

  Her sister, Irene, had clashed with the Antiquities Authority over their handling of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and effectively fallen out with them.

  “If we want to get a license to dig, we don ‘t really have any choice. In the meantime, a quick visit to Masada might enable us to fill in some gaps so that when we put out case, it stands on rock solid ground – ‘scuse the pun.”

  “Well in that case we’d better go online after breakfast and check out the bus times to Masada.”

  “Ah,” said Daniel, awkwardly, looking at his father. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering if you might lend us the car.”

  Bernie, flicked his head in Helen’s direction, keeping his eyes on Daniel.

  “You’ll have to ask the lady of the house,” he added, by way of explanation.

  Daniel looked at Helen, not quite sure how to phrase the question, given that she had already heard it.

  She smiled, amused at his awkwardness.

  “All right,” she said. “But just make sure you bring it back in one piece.”

  Chapter 78

  Sarit hadn’t spoken to Daniel since they had parted company at the hospital. A guard had been placed at Leah Yakarin’s bedside and Sarit had gone back to her other duties, which essentially meant reading up about anti-Israel organizations and learning about their infrastructure in preparation for future assignments against them. Daniel and Ted could have had close protection, but that would have entailed restriction of their movements, something they were loath to agree to.

  Sarit’s duties also included checking out the numerous anti-Semitic videos on YouTube to familiarize herself with the faces and warning signs of such people. Some YouTube anti-Semites had even taken to hiding their faces and using voice changers to cover their tracks. She would not of course be assigned to kill them. But it was important to be able to identify them and know how to distinguish the talkers from those who would actually be ready to take hostile action against Israel itself or Jews – whom the State of Israel had a duty to protect from violence.

  It was while she was doing this research that she got an internal call from Dovi Shamir, her ex-lover and the man who had trained her and turned her into a lethal killing machine.

  “Sarit come to my office please.”

  “Now.”

  “Yes now!”

  It was on a different floor and at the far end of a corridor. But she was there in less than a minute.

  “Don’t sit down,” said Dovi as she reached for a fold-up chair.

  “What’s the emergency?”

  “We’ve had a call from SHaBaK. Apparently Urim intercepted calls that gave them a fix on Shalom and Baruch Tikva.”

  “So why don’t they arrest them?”

  “They tried to get them in a dawn raid, except that they swooped in a bit after dawn.”

  “And I assume the birds had flown?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Where were they staying?”

  “A friend’s flat in the Ma’alot Dafna neighbourhood.”

  “Did the friend also fly th
e coop?”

  “No, he was still there. They took him in and hauled him over the coals.”

  “Did he sing?”

  “Eventually.”

  “And?”

  “They’re going to Masada.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they think Daniel and Ted are going there.”

  “And why are you telling me this?”

  “Well last time you thought Daniel Klein was in danger, you went rushing off to protect him… against my express orders.”

  Sarit remembered the incident all too well.

  “If I remember rightly you said it was SHaBaK’s business.”

  “Which didn’t cut any ice with you, if I remember rightly.”

  “Well they had been kidnapped and taken across the border to Jordan. So technically it was Mossad business.”

  Dovi smiled at Sarit’s response.

  Feisty as ever.

  “Look I’m not here to rake over embers of the past.”

  “Then I return to my question. Why did you summon me.”

  “Well I thought you might like to get down there and give him some protection.”

  “Now that really is the job of SHaBaK… and the police.”

  “Yes but you know what Baruch Tikva looks like.”

  “Oh come off it. SHaBaK have pictures of both of them – and probably half their members. They know what both of them look like.”

  “You’ve seen him recently. You know what he looks like now.”

  “Unless he’s shaved off his beard.”

  “Actually he has – according to CCTV footage from the airport.”

  “How did he manage to get back into the country undetected?”

  “Well it appears that he used an American passport and his mother’s maiden name.”

  “And that’s all it took to give border control the slip?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Jesus Christ!”

  “Anyway, it’s up to you. I don’t want you to take any risks, but according to your reports, when you confronted him in England you were dressed in leathers and a helmet and he didn’t realize that you were a woman. So if you go there now, dressed like a tourist, he won’t recognize you. And that should give you an advantage.”