The Second Messiah

by Glenn Meade

  Savage said, “So what’s the verdict?”

  The Frenchman raised his glass to both of them before he swallowed the liquor in one mouthful and shook his head. “You know, it sometimes amazes me.”

  Yasmin got to her feet. “What does?”

  “Some people have the devil’s own luck. If Jack’s wound had been a few centimeters to the right the bullet could have severed an artery and we might be nailing him down in a box.”

  “He’s going to be okay?”

  The Frenchman smiled at Yasmin and slapped down his glass. “I’m not a doctor but I believe he’ll recover. It’s really just a bad flesh wound.”

  Yasmin stood on her toes and kissed Pierre’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  The Frenchman winked, then handed her two plastic vials of pills he’d taken from the first-aid kit. “Painkillers, if needed. The second vial contains antibiotics to prevent infection. Have Jack take one a day for the next four days. He’s sleeping now, thanks to the morphine, but I’ll be back later to check on him.”

  Savage and Yasmin peered in at Jack. He was sleeping soundly in the chair, his hair flopped to one side, his leg dressed with a fresh cotton bandage. Savage watched as Yasmin knelt beside him. She gently patted his forehead with a damp cloth. “He looks exhausted. I’m not surprised. He didn’t sleep at all during our drive last night. He seemed totally preoccupied.”

  Savage looked down at her. “Because of his wound?”

  “That too, but he was preoccupied by the stuff he recorded in his notebook. No doubt he’ll tell you all about it once he wakes up.”

  “Has Josuf gone back to his village to grab some sleep?”

  “Yes. Why?” Yasmin answered.

  “I’ve a feeling he won’t get much. Sergeant Mosberg was here earlier, asking questions. When he left, he drove toward the Bedu village. I hope Josuf keeps his mouth shut.”

  “Don’t worry. We all agreed not to tell anyone what had happened, except you. Jack said you had to know.”

  Savage nodded down at Jack. “How about we let him sleep it off and you and I step outside. We need to talk, Yasmin.”

  She looked up. “About what?”

  Savage was grim. “I think I know who took the scroll.”

  55

  “WHO DID IT?” Yasmin asked expectantly.

  They stepped outside the tent and strolled for several yards toward the Qumran ruins. Savage lit a Marlboro and took a drag. “Before I answer that, do you mind if I make a nosy remark? I saw the way you tended to Jack. It’s obvious you care.”

  Yasmin blushed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Maybe a lot. Don’t look so embarrassed. You like him, don’t you?”

  Yasmin’s brown eyes rose to meet Savage’s stare. “I’ve liked him since the day we met. What’s it to you?”

  “You met Jack only a few months ago. I’ve known him most of his life. And in my own way I’ve tried to be like a father to him. When his dad died, I lost a good friend.”

  “He never talks much about himself after his parents died. Did anything else bad happen to Jack?”

  “You bet it did. Think about it. He was parentless at nineteen. After he flew back to the States things went downhill. For a long time he tried to numb the pain with alcohol and pills. How he didn’t wind up dead I’ll never know, but there came a turning point.”

  “What happened?”

  “I tracked him down, got him cleaned up. It took him a while to stitch his life back together but he did it. Archaeology was his first love, really all he wanted to do. He worked a bunch of lousy part-time jobs to pay for college fees—flipping burgers, night watchman, pumping gas—and got himself through. A teaching post followed, along with digs in Mexico, Egypt, Rome, and Israel. I really don’t mean this to sound like a cliché, but in some ways I like to think he’s the son I never had.”

  “You don’t have family of your own?”

  Savage smiled gently and nudged a rock with the toe of his desert boot. “The dice never rolled that way. I guess I never found the right woman. But then twelve years spent in the Catholic priesthood didn’t help either.”

  “You were a priest?”

  “A long time ago. After two years of serving in Vietnam and seeing hell on earth, it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time.”

  “You were a soldier too?”

  “For a time. But that was then and this is now. What’s important for you to know is that I couldn’t bear to see Jack harmed. I want to see him happy and loved. I want to see him mend his soul before it’s too late and he …” Savage broke off .

  Yasmin looked into his face. “Ends up like you? Is that what you were going to say?”

  Savage shrugged ruefully. “Maybe. Just know that I care about him, Yasmin. He’s a man worth caring about. He’s passionate about what he does. In a way, it’s a continuation of his parents’ work, don’t you see? His way of honoring them. That’s why I’m asking you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “His father was a good and decent man, but boy, he could be a strong-willed character if he got an idea into his head. Jack’s cut from the same cloth. He’ll follow this business to the ends of the earth if he has to, no matter how dangerous the threat. That’s why I want you to do your utmost to convince him not to.”

  “Why do you think he’ll listen to me, Buddy?”

  “It has to be worth a shot. I don’t want Jack to wind up dead. Try to convince him to let the police handle it.”

  “If you really think it’s worth trying.” Yasmin looked at Savage. “You said you knew who stole the scroll.”

  He turned his gaze toward the stony ruins littering the dig site. “My instinct tells me it’s an Arab or Israeli criminal gang that was responsible.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because as long as archaeologists have been finding precious artifacts in the Holy Land, criminals have been trying to steal them. The black market is full of vicious crooks and it’s easy to understand why. One precious discovery could make them very rich.”

  “Any particular Arab or Israeli gang?”

  Savage took a last drag and flicked away his cigarette. “Take your pick. There are dozens. And I’m guessing this guy Pasha’s connected to them in some way. That’s why I need you to convince Jack to leave it to the cops. I don’t want him winding up dead. It would break my heart.”

  “Any more talk like that and you’ll have me in tears, folks.”

  They both heard Jack’s voice and turned. He was standing unsteadily and Yasmin went to take hold of his arm. “Pierre said you needed to rest.”

  “Hey, I’m not done for yet. Just a little lightheaded after the morphine.” Jack hobbled over to sit on a boulder.

  Savage said, “How long had you been standing back there?”

  Jack smiled. “Long enough.”

  Savage said, “Good. Then maybe you’ll think twice before making any more dumb trips like the one to Syria.”

  “You’re wrong about that, Buddy.” Jack patted his injured leg. “It wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was even worth the blood and the pain.”

  Savage frowned. “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe, but I found a clue at the monastery and your suspicions are way off the mark.”

  56

  TEL AVIV

  “WAKE UP, LELA. Rise and shine.”

  Lela felt someone patting her face. She blinked and came out of a deep sleep. Ari stood over her with a big smile. “Sorry to ruin your siesta. How do you feel?”

  Lela struggled to awaken. She was in a single bed, the overhead light was on, the bedroom curtains closed. “Half dead. How long have I been sleeping?”

  Ari crossed to the window and flung open the curtains. “Three hours. I left a cup of fresh coffee on the nightstand. Hot and black, the way you always liked it.”

  Lela sat up and squinted as sunlight exploded into the room. As she sipped the steaming coffee she looked around the apartment.
The Mossad safe house was half a mile from headquarters. Ari had brought her there at 3 A.M. after they landed back at Tel Aviv. An hour’s debrief followed and then Ari showed her to the bedroom and told her to get some rest. Then he disappeared into one of the other rooms and minutes later Lela heard him snoring.

  The apartment was spotlessly clean but the decor was lousy: straw-colored walls, threadbare dark curtains, and a suite of well-worn furniture that looked as if it was ready for the dump. Lela had lain under the fresh sheets for at least an hour, her mind racked by the previous evening’s events until she had been sucked into a coma by a wave of exhaustion.

  Now Ari came out of the bathroom and tossed her a fresh white bath towel and a tube of shower gel. “For you. In the great Jewish tradition, when it comes to spending on nonessentials Mossad is as tight as a rusty nut. The soap’s cheap and the towels like sandpaper. But at least the water’s hot enough for a shower.”

  “Thanks.” Lela climbed out of bed, pulling the cotton bath towel around her to cover her nakedness. “Any particular reason why you deprived me of eight hours’ sleep, Ari?”

  There was a sound of footsteps outside the door and Ari smiled. “I think you’re about to find out.”

  A sudden rap came on the bedroom door, then it yawned open and Julius Weiss stood there. He wore a fresh blue shirt, khaki trousers, and the same old sandals. “So, you’re awake, Inspector Raul. Have you told her yet, Ari?”

  “I thought I’d leave that to you, sir.”

  Weiss jerked a thumb toward the door. “Outside, in ten minutes. Something’s come up and we need to talk.”

  57

  QUMRAN

  “BEFORE THIS GOES any further, I’ve got some news you might like to hear,” Savage announced.

  “What’s that?” Jack asked.

  “Mosberg said his forensics people had the parchment flakes and ink analyzed and carbon-dated. It’s the same material used in other Dead Sea scrolls, and in all probability dated between A.D. 25 and 50.”

  Jack slapped a fist into his palm. “I never doubted it for a second, Buddy.”

  “Neither did I. But don’t keep us in suspense, tell us what you found,” Savage demanded.

  “I think Father Novara was trying to decipher some kind of message contained in the scroll. I saw jottings and lists of Aramaic words and characters lying on his desk, as if he was in the process of decoding something. I even found a couple of sentences he appeared to have translated and they’re pretty remarkable indeed.”

  “Let’s see them.”

  Jack reached for his notebook in his back pocket. “Over fifty years ago one of the translators working on the original Dead Sea scrolls, Professor Schonfeld, discovered a recurring cipher in some texts. A hidden language, if you like. He called it the Atbash Cipher. Ever heard of it?”

  Savage nodded. “Sure. I thought it was found in scrolls written in Hebrew.”

  “It seems it may occur in Aramaic texts too.”

  “I never really paid much attention to Schonfeld’s work. Didn’t folks think he was a crackpot?”

  “Some did. But a number of respected academics eventually recognized that Schonfeld had stumbled across something highly unusual.”

  Yasmin said, “Why would the Essenes want to devise a hidden code?”

  Savage shook his head. “Nobody’s ever come up with a credible answer, except that they were an eccentric cult and inclined to be secretive, which is probably one of the reasons why they hid their scrolls in the first place. It’s probably also why the Essenes stashed their scrolls in local caves for safety when the community was destroyed by the Romans as part of a crackdown on Jewish insurgents, some time between A.D. 66 and 73.”

  “So what was Father Novara trying to decode?”

  Jack said, “You’re asking the million-dollar question, Yasmin. Some of the code had a biblical reference and Schonfeld suggested that certain of the parchments may have been encrypted with a prophecy or revelation. But Schonfeld died years ago and afterward his work became a sort of curiosity, not always taken seriously.”

  “What kind of prophecy or revelation are we talking about?”

  “No one knows. But Schonfeld’s study of the codes led him to believe that it was significant.”

  Savage put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You’re talking pure speculation, Jack.”

  “Am I? Have a read of this. I found this sentence jotted on one of the pages I discovered beside Novara’s desk …”

  Savage studied the lines Jack had recorded in the notebook:

  When the messiah’s corpse was removed from the cross, it was placed in a tomb in the burial caves outside Dora, on the road to Caesarea.

  Savage raised an eye. He looked totally flummoxed a moment, then he said, “What the heck have we got here? Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake transcribing the words?”

  “No, Buddy, I made sure of it.”

  Savage stared at the lines and shook his head. “‘When the messiah’s corpse was removed from the cross, it was placed in a tomb in the burial caves outside Dora, on the road to Caesarea.’” He looked up, stunned. “If it’s meant to be the messiah Jesus, biblical history records he was buried near Jerusalem.”

  “Exactly.”

  Confused, Savage studied the lines again. “It’s a pretty explosive statement, but what exactly does it mean?”

  Jack said, “Buddy, believe me, this is one conundrum that’s only going to be solved by a complete translation of the full text.”

  Savage scratched his head. “You’ve sure got my attention. Still, I meant what I said. Don’t be dumb enough to go tearing off and getting mixed up with criminals like Pasha, not unless you’ve got a death wish. Tell the police everything you know and leave the rest to them.”

  “Do you really believe the cops can move quickly enough to stop the scroll from disappearing into some private collection? Let’s face it, all they’ve come up with so far is to suspect me.”

  “You said I was way off the mark about a criminal gang. Explain.”

  “Buddy, if Father Novara was decoding the text, then this has got to go much deeper than just a bunch of murderous thieves. Criminals are interested in cash, not codes or translations. Maybe thieves took it, but if they did they stole it to order. Novara said that the scroll was destined never to be seen, along with the others, which maybe implies it’s bound for a private collector.”

  Savage frowned. “Others?”

  “Novara suggested he handled other stolen parchments, not just ours.”

  “You mean from Qumran?”

  “Who knows? In Novara’s study I saw a drawing of a Roman inscription containing animals, monsters, and sylphs. I’ve seen a similar inscription before. I’ve been racking my mind where, but I can’t figure it out.”

  Savage raised an eye. “Okay, Inspector Poirot, tell me more.”

  Before Jack could reply Pierre reappeared, clutching a newspaper under his arm. “The Antiquities Department just called, Buddy. They want you at their Jerusalem office right away.”

  “What for?”

  “The guy didn’t say, except it was urgent. You’re to ask for the investigations unit when you arrive.” Pierre winked at Jack. “How’s the patient?”

  “Feeling a lot better since the morphine.”

  “Wouldn’t we all? Remember, no gymnastics, you don’t want to open up that wound of yours. By the way, have any of you seen the local rag?”

  Pierre handed Jack a local newspaper. The headline read:

  BRUTAL MURDER MYSTERY AND THEFT AT QUMRAN

  KILLER SOUGHT BY POLICE

  Pierre said, “It gives all the grisly details of the crime and speculates about black-market thieves.”

  Buddy took the newspaper from Jack, scanned the article, and raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.” He looked up. “If this keeps up, you’re going to have more media crews crawling all over this site like flies over camel dung.”

  Buddy ha
nded the paper back to Pierre and patted Jack’s cheek. “We’ll continue this talk when I get back. Meantime, rest, okay?”

  Savage disappeared toward the office trailer, following Pierre. Jack watched him go, then turned to Yasmin and shook his head, half smiling. “I don’t think Buddy realizes that he sometimes acts like he’s my old man.”

  “He means well, Jack.”

  “I know.” Jack looked at his watch. “Listen, Yasmin, I need you to do me a big favor and drive me to Tel Aviv.”

  “What for? You’re in no condition to travel.”

  “You heard Pierre. I’m on the mend.” Jack held up his cell phone, excitement infecting his voice. “While you and Buddy were talking I made a few calls to Italy. There’s a guy in Rome I intend to talk with who’s an authority on Schonfeld’s code. And there’s someone in the Vatican I’d like to see.”

  “About what?”

  “I’ll explain later. I called the airport. There’s a one o’clock flight from Tel Aviv to Rome.”

  Yasmin said with concern, “Rome? But you heard Buddy.”

  “By the time Buddy realizes the call from the Antiquities Department was phoney, I’ll be on my way to the Eternal City.”

  “You made the call to Pierre?”

  “I had to. I feel guilty about it but if I told Buddy what I was up to, he’d tie me down. I’ll call him when I get to Rome. Besides, if I hang around here and the media heats up and starts mentioning my name, I may not be able to travel anywhere.”

  “What about Pasha’s threat?”

  Jack’s voice sparked with resolve. “That’s a risk I’m going to have to take. Besides, Rome’s a long way from Syria. How’s anyone going to know?”

  “I have the feeling that Pasha’s the kind of psycho who’d make it his business.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Well, are you going to drive me to Tel Aviv airport or not? I’ll have a quick shower, a change of clothes, and pack an overnight bag. But I’ll need to make a brief stop on the way.”