‘I can’t stay here,’ he mumbled. ‘This is God’s punishment. Because of our wickedness, he has forsaken the tribes of Israel.’
‘Then if your God has taken the wise decision to leave his temple and his city, you cannot be blamed for doing the same.’
‘Where would I go? My own people don’t understand what I’ve tried to do for them. They hate me.’
‘They’re wrong,’ said Titus. ‘If they’d listened to you two years ago, I wouldn’t have had to do this.’
Josephus hung his head. ‘They say I’m a traitor.’
‘Then we’ll have to make sure that history judges you otherwise. And as for the history of this wretched place, when I’ve finished here, no one will even know there were once walls around Jerusalem.’
‘But where can I go?’
Titus clapped Josephus on the back in an attempt to cheer him up. ‘Rome. My father has a long memory, as do I. You not only saved his life, but without your help, Vitellius would still be emperor and my father just another soldier with ambitions greater than his abilities. Go to Rome, Josephus, there’s nothing more for you here.’
Chapter Forty
Washington DC
They stared at the TV screen in Flora’s hotel room in abject disbelief. For three days the story had been raging without a break. ‘Talk about “be careful what you wish for”.’ said Cohen. He zapped to another channel: it was there too. Three talking heads were all shouting at once, pitting the newly-found proof of Jesus’ divinity against the premise that Christianity was an invented cult with just about every prophecy and conjuring trick known to the ancient world bolted onto the shadowy figure of an Essene preacher. Conspiracy theorists jammed the airwaves and the blogsphere, some blaming popular fiction baddies from the Jesuits to the Papacy itself, while others pointed the finger at government agencies or sinister cabals of bankers bent on world domination. All the news channels led with the Vatican’s denial of any involvement with the theft and the anchors fell over themselves to come up with the most outspoken pundits to interview. Even the White House joined in: its Republican incumbent was known to favour laws based more literally on the Bible and since taking office had been doing his best, despite ferocious opposition from a Democrat-dominated House and an evenly-split Senate, to blur the line between church and state. His unguarded words in support of Republicans for Jesus to a news team as he was leaving church were now being dissected by commentators the world over.
Donald Sumter was ecstatic: seemingly never more than two feet from a TV camera or a microphone, his well-oiled evangelical operation wowed the faithful and gained a respectful hearing even from the sceptical.
‘It’s not all bad news,’ said Cohen. ‘You wouldn’t believe the number of museums that’ve rechecked their archives and found stuff missing. I’ve got a job for life thanks to this shit.’
‘So apart from hogging the front pages, has it done what you wanted?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, I reckon so.’
‘Isn’t there a risk they’ll just dump everything and run?’
‘There is but I don’t think they will,’ he replied. ‘Anyone who’s willing to kill to get their hands on this stuff isn’t just going to roll over and give up. Remember, those guys in Alabama were trying to steal what we had, killing us was just a bonus.’
Flora shuddered at the memory. ‘Not quite how I’d have put it.’
‘Put it how you want. I reckon if we dangle the bait again, they’ll bite.’
‘They might do a better job next time. Find yourself some fresh bait.’
‘No,’ said Cohen. ‘You’re missing the point. When we got hit it was because they knew we had company.’
Flora wrinkled her brow, something she often did when something puzzled her. ‘So if Grossman and Crump are compromised, who’ve you got left?’
‘Raymond,’ he replied.
‘But surely they’d never trust him after what’s happened would they?’
‘I think they might,’ said Cohen. ‘I forgot to tell you, but the first thing I did after we’d fished you out of the river was to get back to my supervisor in New York. He got Raymond to phone the buyers with an urgent message saying “hope it isn’t too late and all that good shit, but Grossman and Crump are possibly working with the Feds”. Said he’d been running more background checks on us and there were holes in our résumés.’
‘Did they buy it?’ Flora asked.
‘Impossible to tell. There was one development though.’
‘What was that?’
‘Don’t know whether it tells us anything,’ said Cohen. ‘But on the call the buyer was much more specific about what he wanted. He mentioned the Devil’s Codex and the Seven Stars’
‘It shows the buyer knows his stuff. But where does that get us? If Grossman is compromised, the buyer won’t come near him.’
‘True, but if as a sign of good faith Raymond drops his price, carries out a clean sell with no wire, no one tailing him – leastways not as openly as last time – and offers to help track Grossman down with a view to a retrieving what he’s already sold, then I think they might just have no choice but to trust him.’
‘That’s pretty flaky,’ said Flora. ‘It could get Raymond killed and we could lose priceless finds into the bargain.’
Cohen stood up and stretched. ‘You got a better idea?’ he asked.
‘Matter of fact I think I have. Let’s go and get something to eat. If I have another beer I won’t be able to stand up.’
The hot, wet slap in the face that is the DC summer hit them between the eyes as they walked out the hotel. ‘So what’s this great idea of yours?’ asked Cohen, forging ahead through the crowds.
‘If you slow down and let me catch up I can tell you,’ panted Flora. ‘I wanted to ask you if your technical people could take a look at something for me.’
‘Sure, what is it?’
‘Some photos on the web. The ones Donald Sumter’s crowing about – you know the Aramaic texts that were stolen from Pompeii but nobody else noticed were even there.’
‘Sure. What do you want to know about them?’
‘The resolution, what sort of camera they might’ve been taken with, any signs of cropping or Photoshopping, any hidden tags or references and most important of all, I want to see the text itself at maximum magnification consistent with sharpness.’
Cohen looked at his watch. ‘Seven PM; should be someone around. I’ll give them a call.’ He dialled and after a short wait Flora heard him repeat her instructions. ‘They’ll e-mail me the details in a couple of hours. Now, how about you tell me what’s on your mind.’
By the time they returned to the hotel the e-mail was sitting in Cohen’s in-box. Flora read the details over his shoulder. ‘Tell you anything you didn’t know?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure, I’ll need to talk to Francesco.’
‘You mean Moretti?’
‘Yes.’
‘No way. You can’t. Any comms with Italy go through me and I’ll talk direct to Lombardi.’
‘Seems a bit melodramatic,’ said Flora. ‘But if it makes you happy, could you find out what sort of light-box equipment they’ve got at the Pompeii lab?’
‘Sure. Am I allowed to ask what a light-box is and why you want to know?’
Flora tutted. ‘A light-box is what you put things in when you want to photograph them. You make a box out of polystyrene, say, leave one side open, make a few holes in the top for lights and a camera lens and that’s it. Means you can get high-quality images with a plain white background dead easily.’
‘And why does this help us?’
‘Because, as I suspected, the report says the pictures on Sumter’s web-site were taken in a light-box using a high quality digital camera.’ She tapped the screen. ‘I mean, just look at the sharpness on these enlargements. This is top-quality work.’
‘Yeah, OK, I’m very happy for you. So what?’ he said
‘You haven’t been listening, have y
ou?’ Flora would never have admitted it but she sounded just like her mother. ‘No one at Pompeii remembers these fragments so the only logical conclusion is that, as he claims, Sumter took the photos himself.’
‘Yeah, I’ll buy that –’
‘But Donald hates technology. He can barely send an e-mail or write a letter on a PC and I’ve seen his camera – it’s an old, wet-film, twin-lens reflex. Look at the report, Ben, these images were done on a high-spec digital camera: Sumter wouldn’t know where to start with one of those, let alone use it in a light-box.’
Cohen’s eyebrows rose. ‘So who did take the photos?’
‘Sumter says he did. He’s lying but I can’t work out why. Can you get hold of Lombardi tomorrow? We need to know if any of Francesco Moretti’s technicians remember Sumter taking the pictures or if he asked them to do it.’
‘I’ll send him a mail now,’ said Cohen. ‘They’re six hours ahead so that’ll give him a head start.’
At six the following morning, mid-day in Italy, Lombardi’s call jolted Cohen awake. Neither Moretti nor any of his team at the Pompeii lab remembered Sumter taking any pictures and none of them had been approached by him for help.
Cohen broke the news over breakfast at Flora’s hotel.
‘Well that settles it,’ she said. ‘I need to pay a visit to William Sunday University.’
‘Do you think Sumter would be happy about that? I thought you two couldn’t stand one another.’
She laughed. ‘We can’t and if he has been up to something he shouldn’t, then I’m the last person he’d let within ten miles of the place.’
‘And those images on the web – you think he’s got the original documents?’
‘He says not but you’re the detective, you tell me. No one at Pompeii has seen the originals but by a spooky coincidence Donald Sumter has not only seen them but managed to produce professional-standard photos of them. Come on, Ben, something’s wrong here.’
Cohen thought for a moment. ‘You’re right. But it’s still not enough for a search warrant. I need more.’
‘That’s why I need to go down there.’
‘And you’re just going to turn up at the door and ask them if they happen to have any stolen first-century documents on the premises and, if so, can you take a look? How many times do you think you’ll bounce on your way down the steps, Flora?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. So long as Sumter’s away I’ll get in somehow.’
Cohen’s expression was grave. ‘You know you can’t go down there as Lavinia Crump and you can’t carry a gun either,’ he said. ‘Any trip you make is as a civilian and you won’t get any protection from the law if you enter a building illegally.’
While their conversation was taking place another, yet more urgent, was happening in Italy. Moretti stood in the car park of the lab with his mobile clamped to his ear. ‘We’ve got a problem. I said it was a risk and now the Carabinieri are asking about the photographs – Lombardi… you remember, the TPC guy from Naples?…. yeah him, well he just left. No. Fuck. Listen. I’m not saying “I told you so” I just thought, you know… whoever it is you talk to in the US might be interested…. no, I’m not telling you how to run your operation, I just thought you ought to know.’ The line went dead as the other party hung up on him. ‘Fuck you. Arrogant sons of bitches,’ he said aloud and kicked at a fallen pine-cone, sending it skittering across the car-park.
Chapter Forty-one
Rome AD 70
‘So how do you like it?’ asked Vespasian.
‘Well it’s certainly big,’ replied Josephus. ‘It’s just a little, well, overwhelming.’
‘Vulgar, you mean?’ said the emperor with a smile. ‘Yes, the wretched thing takes up half the city and it’ll all have to go.’ They both gazed out over what to Josephus was a brand-new townscape, dominated by Nero’s half-finished palace, the Domus Aurea, which sprawled from the Palatine to the Esquiline Hill. ‘And what about you, young man? Titus tells me he’s been keeping you busy.’
‘I’ve done my best, sir, but it’s good to be back,’ Josephus replied, trying to force the memories of the revolt to the back of his mind. ‘There are still three of the Seven Stars alive somewhere: my work’s not done yet.’
‘Would you like me to give you Alityros again?’ Vespasian asked. ‘I’m sure you could do with the help and I know he could do with the exercise – he’s as fat as a barrel these days.’
Josephus’ face lit up. ‘You mean he’s still alive?’ he asked.
‘Alive, well and eating four meals a day.’
‘Well, I’m delighted he’s all right and I don’t wish to seem ungrateful –’
‘But he’s more of a hindrance than a help when it comes to chasing Christians?’
‘Precisely, sir.’
‘But that isn’t why I asked Titus to send you here. I told you I had a long memory when you saved me from Nero all those years ago, and believe me, long memory or not I was sorely tempted to have you sent to him after Jotapata.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t.’
‘So am I. Titus and his army would still be camped outside the walls of Jerusalem if it hadn’t been for you. And before you say anything, yes, I do understand how you must feel, but Titus had no choice. Rebellion against Rome will not be tolerated.’ Josephus swallowed hard. ‘Sacrifice brings reward, Josephus: here’s my offer. Accept me as your patron, take Roman citizenship and I’ll see your talents don’t go unrewarded. What do you say?’
Josephus stood rooted to the spot. ‘I…I’d be deeply honoured, sir,’ he said. ‘The only problem is, you see I lost everything in the fighting and I don’t even have anywhere permanent to live.’
The emperor smiled. ‘You clearly don’t understand what’s involved. As my protégé you’ll have an income, and as of today you are the owner and master of my old villa on the Pincian.’ Josephus made to speak but Vespasian held up a hand to stop him. ‘I haven’t finished yet. Have you ever seen Pompeii?’
‘Yes sir, but it was a long time ago, just after the earthquake.’
‘And what did you think?’
‘I thought it was wonderful.’
‘Good,’ said Vespasian, rubbing his hands together. ‘One of the late emperor Vitellius’ friends – the commander of Legio XV Primigenia to be precise – had a very nice villa down there, overlooking the coast. As you might suspect, it’s now vacant: yours, complete with staff if you want it.’
‘There’s nothing I’d like more,’ Josephus replied, barely able to believe his ears.
Chapter Forty-two
William Sunday University, Alabama
‘After everything that’s happened we’re not really supposed to talk to journalists without Professor Sumter’s permission, you do know that?’ said the young man, sliding his thick glasses back up to the bridge of his nose.
‘But surely, where a newspaper as well known as ours is concerned, those rules don’t apply,’ said Flora, leaning forward to read her notes and allowing him a view down the front of her blouse.
‘The media have been saying horrible, blasphemous things about us,’ he said, looking away as Flora caught his eye. ‘It’s too big a risk. I really can’t.’
She pouted and tossed her hair. She caught him eyeing her breasts once more. ‘Poor dear George said it would be fine, that’s why I came all this way. I’ve known him, sorry, had known him for years: he was a wonderful man.’
He looked away, clearly embarrassed. ‘We all had a great deal of respect for Mr Patterson. That he took his own life was a great shock to us all.’
Flora dabbed at the corner of her eye. ‘And he spoke so highly of you. When he invited me over he sent a lovely e-mail with all his news about what Professor Sumter had found in Pompeii and how well you were coming on as his deputy –’
‘He invited you? To see the archive?’
‘Yes, of course, that’s why I’m here. I know you won’t let me down. Poor dear George. I can quite underst
and why he forgot to tell you with so much on his mind. And I’m very supportive of what you do here,’ she added.
He hesitated. ‘Well I suppose if Mr Patterson invited you, then –’
Flora saw the gap and was through. ‘Oh thank you, you are such a total sweetheart. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’ She reached forwards and flung her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘When can we start?’
She noticed he’d gone bright red. ‘Well, um, now I suppose. Look, if anyone asks, tell them you’re a visiting grad student or something and for heaven’s sake, when you write the article you mustn’t mention you’ve seen the archives.’
‘Of course not, silly,’ cooed Flora. ‘Just lead the way and I’ll follow.’ They set off with Flora’s heels click-clacking on the highly polished wooden floor .
‘This is just wonderful,’ she said as she stopped to take pictures of the doors to the main library. ‘It’s like a film. Are they air-tight?’
‘No,’ he replied patiently, ‘otherwise no one in there could breathe.’
‘Oh, how silly of me,’ said Flora with a giggle. ‘You must think I’m totally stupid. Ever since dear George invited me over I’ve been doing so much research into museums and libraries and things that I think I’ve got a bit carried away.’
The archivist smiled, seemingly less intimidated for a moment. ‘It does get you like that,’ he said. ‘Most people can’t understand why I find my job so exciting –’
‘Oh, I can,’ said Flora. ‘You’re going to have trouble getting me out of here.’
‘Well you can’t stay too long,’ he said, looking nervously at her as they walked through the research library. ‘Firstly, I’ve got work to do and secondly, Professor Sumter’s due back tomorrow and if he finds you here I’ll be out of a job. And please don’t mention what you’ve seen here in your article.’
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