Rabbi Gabrielle Ignites a Tempest

by Roger Herst

  The terror she experience localized in her fingers. Thank God, Father Benoit could not see them buried deep in the hip pockets of her slacks. She had never questioned how possession of the Jesus fragment would put her in harm's way, but she had expected a longer honeymoon before it did. Two people were now silhouetted at the entrance to the grotto, no doubt Benoit's Russian lackeys. What were their names, Irena and Alexander?

  A wave of Benoit's arm signaled for the Russians to approach. The moment they were beside Gabby, she smelled garlic, identifying the male as the one who had adducted her in Independence Park. Irena must have been the female driver. Their presence convinced Gabby to take Father Benoit's threat seriously. She grasped for a way of holding on to the fragment in the vinyl folder taped to her spine and seized the first thought that came to mind, saying to the priest, "Before I accept money, I must seek God's approval at the 12th Station, the Chapel of the Crucifixion."

  Her response caught him off guard, but he rallied, "If you're serious, that can be arranged. My friends will escort you there, but remember that Irena is authorized to use her EpiPen."

  "Fifteen million," she blurted, knowing that she still needed a bold plan to escape from Benoit's henchmen. Negotiating for more money might lull them into thinking she was serious about the sale.

  "I'm authorized only for twelve," Benoit replied, "not a penny more. Don't be greedy. You can't spend that much in a lifetime. Show Rabbi Lewyn your needle," he commanded Irena who retrieved the cylindrical EpiPen and displayed it before Gabby.

  "Kill me and you'll never get the fragment. Would you let it slip through your fingers for three million? You know its worth far more than fifteen."

  Benoit mopped a double chin with short, plump fingers, saying, "If we can't make a deal, I'm certainly not going to let you enjoy this treasure. Before offering fifteen I must contact my people. In the meantime, Irena and Alexander will take you to the Chapel of the Crucifixion. Alex, take a firm hold on her. If we're lucky, I'll have an answer for you in a few minutes."

  Biblical scholars locate the cross of Jesus' crucifixion on a sandstone outcropping in a modest Greek Orthodox chapel not far from the Sepulcher. Gabby moved immediately in that direction with Irena pressing against her from the rear and Alexander on her right arm, his fingers forcefully squeezing her bicep. Once inside the chapel, she steered the trio between tourists edging forward to the sacred death place of Jesus. Alexander jerked at her arm, a painful warning that, despite the crowd of onlookers, he would not release her to advance forward. An elaborate golden cross marked the holiest of holy spots ahead, but moving within range to touch it required patience.

  To remind Gabby of her proximity, Irena planted a firm hand on her shoulder.

  To escape from her escorts required more than inspiration. She had no idea what to do next until a space opened near the altar at the base of the cross and she stepped into it, forcing Irena and Alexander to rudely elbow adjacent room for themselves. Once as close to the site of the crucifixion as it was possible to get, Gabby closed her eyes, started to issue a Hebrew petition, but stopped in mid-phrase, acknowledging that she might soon lose her life on the very spot where the Savior of Christianity lost his. To capitulate and provide Father Benoit with the Jesus fragment remained an option, but she felt that unfair to Tim's memory. Instead, she let instinct lead and jumped forward onto a brass railing that separated spectators and worshippers from the overhanging cross moored in the sandstone. Alexander's grip eased an instant before he completely released her. Hanging upon the rail, she howled in the loudest voice she could muster, "Lamah, lamah, azavtani, Why, why, my God, have you abandoned me?" the Aramaic words Jesus cried out from this very spot. "Lamah, lamah azavtani?" she screamed over an over again, increasing her volume with each repetition.

  A pair of Orthodox priests monitoring visitors responded by bulling forward toward the cross to silence this hysterical woman. The instant a priest moved between her and Alexander, she shifted back upon her feet to face Irena, who already held in full view the EpiPen, searching for a place to strike. Gabby sensed she would have only a single opportunity to misdirect Irena's thrust. To move too soon would guarantee the needle would puncture her clothing in a vulnerable spot. But too late was equally lethal. A pause followed by another, then at the last instant, Gabby pivoted sharply, providing the full length of her back as a target for Irena. She could hear a swish as the EpiPen slashed through the air, then a solid thump as the needle pierced her jacket and blouse, then continued into the vinyl siding of the folder with the Jesus fragment tucked inside. Whether the needle penetrated both sides of the folder to reach her flesh she could not know for certain. The power of Irena's thrust almost knocked her off balance, yet she could feel no pin prick in the small of her back.

  She knew the Russians would do all in their power to apprehend her, but without the threat of a deadly virus, they'd have to catch her first. And here she had an advantage, for she could use the crowds of spectators and worshippers as screens. Her unexpected flight through the mingling bodies caught her captors by surprise. Before they managed to seize her for a second time, she had ducked behind individuals who, curious about the screaming they had just heard, remained paralyzed in place. Several of the chapel's columns also served as cover.

  Irena and Alexander were now in full pursuit, only momentarily catching the flash of Gabby's navy-blue jacket in movement. Knowing they would attempt to block her exit from the church, she joined a group of tourists forging a path back toward the Crucifixion Chapel. To move in the direction of the portal leading from the Sepulcher Church to the Old City outside, it was necessary to traverse a circular route with the hope of making a final dash for freedom at a critical moment. Twice she caught sight of her pursuers, separately plowing through the crowd, their eyes in motion. Once she saw Irena with a cell phone to her ear.

  She expected Father Benoit and his goons to converge on her when she eventually emerged into the church square, but she also knew that, as a fugitive himself, Benoit couldn't afford a commotion and attract the police. She saw him the moment she burst forth into the open air with a cell phone to his ear. He turned to notice her almost at the moment Alexander crashed through tourists trying to navigate the narrow portal to the church. The impact caught an elderly woman carrying a bouquet of gold and white spring flowers and sent her to her knees. Alexander ignored her while jumping forward to catch Gabby's arm and halt her forward motion.

  "No, no," exclaimed Benoit as he shuffled forward, waving Alexander off with the hand carrying the cell phone. "Fifteen," he said in a voice that bellowed across the square. "Fifteen, Rabbi."

  A moment later, Irena emerged from the church to join Alexander as he released Gabby, who now pretended to walk calmly in Benoit's direction.

  "I've got a commitment for fifteen," the Dominican priest repeated in an exclamation of victory.

  Gabby approached within four meters, halted and threw a stern uncompromising look at Benoit. "It's not for sale, Father."

  "Fifteen is what you asked for."

  "Tim would never, never sell it, and neither will I."

  A wounded expression emerged upon Benoit's face as he struggled to understand this rejection. She then did what took Alexander and Irena by surprise. With a bold thrust of an outstretched hand, she spun around like a ballerina and plunged into a cluster of new visitors as they moved in the direction of the church. She knew that the Russians wouldn't let her escape without pursuing, yet now she had numbers on her side. The crowded commercial alleys of the Abyssinian Christian and Jewish quarters of the Old City provided innumerable places to take cover. She found herself employing the same strategy used in the church, shielding her movement behind groups of individuals, often changing directions to add confusion. In a Palestinian coffee shop, she discovered a corner table out of sight from the narrow street. After catching her breath to talk, she dialed the Antiquities Authority on her cell phone and waited while still panting.

  Itamar wa
s engaged in a staff meeting and had given instructions not to be interrupted.

  She cupped her fingers over the receiver in order not to be overheard. "Interrupt him," she pleaded with his assistant. "I promise you this can't wait."

  "Nothing is that urgent, especially around here," the assistant responded.

  "Don't make me say nasty things. If your boss is unhappy with what I tell him, I'll buy you dinner at the best restaurant in Jerusalem."

  Four long minutes later, Itamar finally answered, annoyed by Gabby's interruption.

  "I've just been in the Church of the Holy Sepulture. Father Benoit and two Russian thugs, one a man and the other a woman, tried to stop me."

  "Why would he come back?" Itamar asked in disbelief."

  "I'll explain everything when I see you."

  "I'll alert the police."

  "Do it! Tell them Benoit and his goons were last seen at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Benoit is dressed like an Orthodox priest with a long black beard. His goons are in brown leather jackets. I doubt they'll stick around. Pick me up at the Zion Gate, ASAP."

  "I can't leave now. The Minister's calling for my head. I'm with my staff. Take a taxi if you're in a hurry."

  "Don't worry about your job. With what I have, you can become Prime Minister."

  "This isn't funny. I'm about to become French toast around here."

  "I've got it! I've got it!"

  "The measles?"

  "Nothing so prosaic. I've got Tim's discovery of a lifetime."

  "What is it?"

  "Not on the phone. The Russians are chasing me, but I think I've thrown them off. I'm going to make a run for the Zion Gate in exactly twenty minutes, which should give you enough time to get there. I'll stay among the crowd in the Old City until you arrive."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Trust me, Iti. I've told you some dumb fibs in the past, but not now. I need you."

  He paused, then said reluctantly, "Okay, I'm toast anyway. Twenty minutes outside the Zion Gate. I'll let Zabronski's people know about Benoit."

  "And wait, Iti," she said in a lowered voice while eying what looked to be sinister men in European black leather jackets loitering outside the cafe. "You told me you're licensed to carry a gun. That's right, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you got one in your office?"

  "Of course."

  "Bring it," she said and suddenly flipped the lid of her cell phone closed, terminating further conversation. Eleven minutes later, she heard sirens originating in the direction of the gates leading into the Old City. On one of the commercial streets, police on extremely large and powerful horses were pressing their mounts in the direction of the Sepulcher Church.

  Itamar showed up in his sports car nine minutes late. Gabby, more nervous than before, almost jumped into the passenger seat and told him to drive immediately back to the Authority headquarters, promising to tell him everything only when they were safely there.

  Arguing that there was no purpose to maintain secrecy once inside his car, he nevertheless lost the debate because Gabby refused to respond.

  "Just drive," she repeated. "You won't be sorry."

  Twenty-five minutes later, in Itamar's office, he was thoroughly annoyed when she unbuttoned her blouse, then her bra. But before he could tell her this was no time for making love, she turned to him for help pulling off the tape holding the vinyl folder to her back, at the same time warning about touching anything that looked like a hypodermic hole in the vinyl. Handling the folder once freed from her body required extra attention and a call to a physician.

  While she was replacing her clothing, Itamar read the three words of the fragment repeatedly, then turned over the vacuum-sealed envelope to examine both sides of the parchment, eventually lifting it for stronger light below the fluorescent ceiling fixtures. During his silence, she listened to him breathe through his mouth, sucking in air and immediately exhaling it. He eventually emerged from his thoughts to fire off questions about how this fragment had come into her possession. Gabby told him how Tim must have hidden it when he returned to the apartment for his Lipitor and toilet articles.

  "You'll lock it up, won't you?" she asked.

  "You bet."

  "What's the next step?"

  "Before we get egg on our faces, I want the Hebrew University to do a carbon test. We must be certain it's as old as we think it is."

  "Has it occurred to you that Tim left us with electronic scans of the other fragments, but this is his only original?"

  "According to Zvi Zabronski, there was an argument between Tim and Father Benoit at St. George. Benoit broke the code of silence there and was shouting when Tim escaped. Perhaps with this in his pocket."

  "This is what his thugs were looking for in the apartment. If they had searched my books rather than just throwing them on the floor, they would have found it." Constructing the time-line of events, she realized that the burglars had failed to find this Yeshu fragment the first time because it wasn't there. Tim had not yet come to retrieve his Lipitor. Not so on the second occasion, when they had carelessly taken her Kittel bible for granted and tossed it on a heap of other books.

  That evening, Itamar found Gabby on the sofa, writing in a spiral notebook. He sat next to her, snuggling closer with a series of bouncy adjustments. She stuffed her ballpoint into the notebook and closed the cover, placing her arm over his shoulder and resting her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The scent of lavender shampoo was in her hair as he placed his lips near her ear. "Tell me, Gabrielle." he whispered, "How much did Benoit offer you for the fragment?"

  She lifted her head and brushed his cheek with soft kisses before saying, "Far less than you're worth."

  "How much?"

  She planted another kiss upon him at the same time as she said, "Twelve million was the opening bid. Then Benoit upped it to fifteen. That's a lot of money for someone who hasn't given much thought to being rich, though I admit that wealth has a certain appeal. But there was no way I could keep the fragment and have you at the same time. A simple choice. It was one of the other, but not both. If I had decided to take the cash, I wouldn't be here now. I'd be on a plane to Paraguay or some other awful place. We can fill our lives either with things or with people. For me, that's a no-brainer."

  Lying in bed beside Itamar sometime around two-thirty in the morning, Gabby bolted awake. Itamar was a sound sleeper and did not awaken with her. She eased out of bed and stepped to the window, gazing up at the clear, star-filled sky. Pieces of a puzzle had begun falling into place. For years, she had believed that prophets trained to be God's emissaries. They schooled themselves in sacred texts, ate a Spartan diet, refrained from sex, bathed frequently, and inclined their spirits to God. Qumran fragments now outlined the curriculum of a school for prophets, a school whose messianic teachings threatened the very fiber of Roman authority. Cave XII had also yielded a list of individuals most likely associated with this school. Among these names was that of a man soon to be acknowledged as God's special son and bestowed with divine status. She had stumbled upon an extraordinary proposition—that Jesus had been a student at the Ein Arugot yeshiva, learning how to become the prophet he later became.

  In the morning, Itamar listened to her with wonder. He was normally skeptical of far-reaching theories, but Gabby's was documented. Even to a naysayer, this hypothesis commanded attention. He cautioned her, "Not a word of this until I've had a chance to talk with the prime minister's office. The time for glory will come. I promise you that, Gabrielle. But first the Authority needs to make some important decisions."

  "Is that a condition for us to stay together?" she asked.

  "It's my job, Love. If I blow this, I'll be driving taxis for the rest of my career."

  ***

  Because Itamar refused to reveal this discovery to Zebulon Sonnenberg's aides, it took two days to arrange a private meeting with the deputy prime minister. Itamar, Zvi Zabronski, and Gabby wer
e invited to Sonnenberg's office. His staff had reported that he was under extreme stress, yet at the time he showed no signs of impatience. Though archeology and history were admittedly not among his passions, it appeared as though he was, nevertheless, curious about new developments in the evolving Qumran saga. Zabronski, who had been in constant contact with Sonnenberg's staff, described how his department had figured out that Father Benoit Matteau had stolen property of the State of Israel and spirited it out of the country, then, as they had just come to understand, had been smuggled back into Israel by his Bedouin friends and, at the moment, was a fugitive.

  Itamar next reported on meetings with Donaldo Cardinal Fornenti in Rome, who had denied everything, ordering several investigations, while at the same time taking bureaucratic steps to see that each inquiry led in a circle.

  Gabby recounted details about the two break-ins at her apartment and how Tim Matternly had hidden the original text she was about to show the deputy PM. She produced a photocopy of the Yeshu fragment. Sonnenberg lowered his reading glasses, which had assumed a quasi-permanent place on the crown of his bald head, and examined the three words.

  Upon looking up, he said nothing to those in his office. Rather, he spoke into an intercom at his desk. "Rutie, please, ask the prime minister to step into my office. Tell him it's very important."

  After rereading the document, he asked Itamar, "And you have the original?"

  "In our safe at the Antiquities Authority," replied Itamar.

  "And you'll vouch for its authenticity?"

  "Carbon-14 tests came back yesterday afternoon. It checks to the first century, sir."

  "And does it correspond to the other names on the roster of students from this yeshiva at Ein Arugot?"

  "This is the only original document we've had the luxury of testing."

  At that moment, the office door opened as the prime minister—a burly, barrel-shaped man with gray curly hair cropped close to the scalp—marched in, surprised to find visitors. "What's this all about, Zeb?" he bellowed in a scruffy voice that matched his bulldog features.