"Can stop at Dar Poeta and munch on their goodies," Michelle interjected. "Who are you kidding?"
"I can't believe that you'd accuse me of such a thing," Jack said. "Really! Nothing but insensitivity."
"You think I don't know what goes on when you go sneaking out the door?" Michelle grinned. "I know all about where you're going. Just make it after you've been to the library. You boys keep your collective noses clean."
Almost unable to believe his ears, Albert Stein settled back on the footstool and stared at the receiving unit attached to the inner side of the van. "The Prologue of James? So, this is what the Townsends are after."
The title was unknown to him, but no question that the Americans were on to something that was important, but this time he was ahead of them. It was almost too good to be true. He had a title and a location. It would take some doing, but he was looking at the challenge of a lifetime to beat them in finding that manuscript.
"What could be in that parchment?" Stein mumbled to himself. "What have they stumbled on to?"
Because Klaus Burchel hadn't shown, he had been in the van long enough for his bones to feel like it had been forever. More than an entire day had passed since Burchel had disappeared. It made no sense that the man had simply walked away unless he'd gotten himself in real trouble and that remained a significant possibility. Such a problem could put Stein in an even more difficult position. His initial anger began turning to concern. Where was Burchel, and what was he doing?
The farther down the ancient stone steps Jack walked, the more aware he became of descending into the lowest level underneath the Vatican. Dov walked ahead of him, holding tightly to the railing while Jack followed.
"You're having fun," Dov said. "Following me has to be the highlight of your day so far."
"I'm easily pleased," Jack quipped. "What could be more meaningful than tickling your elbow?"
"Just about anything," Dov said.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Jack glanced across the vast room with an archaeological dig going on at the far side. "That's one big area," he said. "We must be on the ground level of what was once first- century Rome."
"We are," Dov said. "I discovered that this portion once was part of the Circus of Caligula and Nero. They tell me excavations have revealed that citizens once lived over there in those ruins from twenty centuries ago. Can you imagine the Romans racing chariots around this exact area?"
"Stretches the minds," Jack said. "Fascinating to imagine what once went around that ancient racetrack."
"Yeah, and if we find anything today from the ancient first century, it will really twitch your wires."
"You bet. Where do we find this Father Donnello?"
Dov pointed toward a small office with a closed door near the center of the area. "He's usually in there working on some document. The man's a genius with languages. You'll like him. Let's take a look."
Dov trudged across the stone floor toward the door. The sound of a chair scrapping across rock signaled that the priest was inside. The door opened slightly and a bearded face peered around the corner.
"Aha!" Father Donnello beamed. "It's my little Jewish friend. Come in and rest a spell." The skinny priest swung the door wide open, revealing the brown habit of a Franciscan. A beard hung down to the end of his neck. "I see you brought a friend today."
"You'll like him," Dov said and walked in. "This guy's a big-time scholar."
Father Donnello stroked his long, grey beard. "Interesting. What does he study?"
"Scripture," Dov said. "Please meet Dr. Jack Townsend."
"Townsend? Not the Townsend who wrote An Answer to the Cynics?"
"The same," Dov said.
Then Father Donnello extended his hands. "Saints preserve us! I've read your book three times and devoured it. Brilliant answers to the hostile critics of Scripture."
"Actually my wife, Michelle, and I wrote it together," Jack said. "Credit goes to her as well."
"Certainly," the priest said. "Sit down. I am honored by having you two come to see me. Most of the time I am down here virtually alone except for the archaeologists working over there in the ruins, and they're a silent bunch anyway."
Jack smiled. "I understand. "We're here because we take the Scriptures seriously."
"Ah," Father Donnello exclaimed, "Excellent." He picked up a small coffeepot sitting on top of a single-coil electric heater. "Can I fix you some coffee or maybe hot tea?"
"Thank you," Jack said, "but we'll pass for the moment. We came to talk to you about a particular document."
"Oh?" The priest smiled. "I am delighted to share whatever I can."
"Can you tell me more about what is called The Prologue of James?"
Father Donnello stopped and immediately set the coffeepot down. "We never speak of such a matter."
17
Klaus Burchel sat hunched over a table in the Hofbrauhaus beer hall just off of the main square in the center of Munich. A small German band with a boisterous tuba player tried to chase away the coldness of the fall afternoon with their strident folk songs. In their lederhosen and Bavarian hats with feathers sticking out the side, the potbellied ensemble kept pounding out loud drinking songs. The two-story pub amounted to a huge beer hall with women in native costumes flying around the rooms holding large steins of beer in their hands to keep the patrons happy and drinking.
"Mein herr." The buxom barmaid in the Bavarian dress whirled in front of Klaus's table holding three mammoth glass steins overflowing with beer. "What'll it be, pretty face?"
"Lager," Klaus said.
"Coming up." the woman swirled away almost as if she was dancing to the um-pa-pa the tuba kept hammering away underneath the melody line of the song.
Klaus had started using his family name again because it felt more comfortable in Germany to be known as a Baer, but it had its problem. The surname problem was only a part of what depressed him. He had returned to the Hofbrauhaus hoping the raucous beer hall might offer encouragement. In the basement, Adolf Hitler had held some of his first rallies to gather support for his fledgling movement. Beneath this very floor, Hitler and Nazi Party members had stormed an official political meeting and declared that the revolution in Germany had begun. On November 8, 1923, the Beer Hall Putsch had set off a fire storm that resulted in Hitler landing in prison where he wrote Mein Kampf. Yet, it was this exact disaster that set the stage for his rise to power. Klaus could take comfort that the emergence of the Third Reich came out of the ashes of the Putsch. Even though sixteen Nazis and four policemen had been killed, the struggle had been worth the confrontation. That tidbit of history encouraged him to consider continuing even after killing the priest in Rome. What counted was the struggle, the continuation of the battle.
His parents had been alarmed when he showed up on their doorstep. It had been a considerable walk from the train station, but no one had stopped him for questioning. It seemed that the police had allowed his past felonies to slide and weren't interested in catching him. However, his parents weren't so sure. In the opinion of some, the name Baer and his grandfather Richard Baer's death in prison kept a cloud hanging over their house. The return of a son in trouble with the law wasn't positive. At best, they had no clue that he had killed a priest in Rome.
"Here you be," the barmaid said and slid a tall mug in front of him.
"Thank you," Klaus said and looked away.
Sipping his beer, he thought about what he'd found in Munich so far. His parents were glad to see him but didn't want him lingering for long. Besides the fact that the police could be watching, he had a disposition for getting into trouble. The Baer family had certainly had enough problems without another explosion caused by his misguided behavior. His stay would have to be brief, but where would he go next? At every turn, his path seemed blocked. Perhaps, he should go back to Italy. Then again, the police might be on to him. He couldn't remember leaving any clues behind so maybe they weren't on his trail. Possibly, he had a week; maybe a
few days. Regardless, he would have to move on soon.
The face of Albert Stein drifted across his mind. Stein could be looking for him and that caused concern. With time, he'd found Stein's demands to be bearable. Because he never gave the ol' man any static, their relationship had become more durable. Still, Klaus didn't like the man. Stein remained the most arrogant person Klaus had ever known.
Klaus took a long sip and watched the band. Nothing made much sense. Possibly another three or four more steins and he'd be more insightful.
18
Jack Townsend hurried through the back door into the office and found Michelle calmly typing away at her computer. Dropping his briefcase on the desk, he glanced at the stick-on notes Michelle had fixed across the top.
"A guy's showing up for an appointment at any moment?" Jack said. "Really?"
"Yeah, he called while you were gone and sounded urgent. I have no idea who the man is. By the way, you can enter through the front door now. The police released the crime scene."
"Good. The front entry is much easier to manage."
"What about Dov?" Michelle asked. "Think he's doing any good over in the Secret Archives this morning?"
"Hope so," Jack said. "Today's conversations are important. He's meeting with Father Donnello, the priest with the secret information." He looked at the small yellow notes a second time.
"Who in the world is Guido Valentino? Never heard of him before."
"Beats me," Michelle said.
"Hmm, I hope he's got something worthwhile on his mind because time is of the essence today. I'm expecting Dov to come back with a significant progress report on what's inside this so-called brown book. If so, we will need a long conversation. I'm safeguarding our time for that possibility."
"You bet. For sure I want to hear what he has to say." Michelle turned around. "Jack, I've not been trying to make you upset about how I see Dov. Maybe I'm wrong. It's just that I level with you about everything. And . . . and I have a few doubts."
"Don't worry," Jack said. "We'll get passed it."
The front door opened and a man in a business suit walked in. Looking to be in his mid-thirties, his dark skin and black hair signaled he probably was a local Italian. Tall with a stocky build and muscular shoulders, his penetrating eyes and thick eyebrows gave him the look of a person with a significant mentality. Unusually well-dressed, the man appeared affluent and dapper. He obviously knew how to make a good impression.
"Can I help you?" Michelle ask.
"Buongiorno. I am Guido Valentino," he said with a heavy Italian accent. "I have an appointment with Dr. Jack Townsend."
"Oh, yes," Jack said. "I am Dr. Townsend."
Guido Valentino bowed at the waist. "The pleasure is mine."
"Come in and sit down," Jack said. "Please meet my wife, Michelle."
"Ah! The woman I spoke with. Madam, thank you for making the arrangements." Valentino bowed again. "Thank you."
"We share all our experiences and research," Jack explained. "It is no problem for Michelle to listen. Tell me how I can help you."
"I want to help you, sir," Valentino sat down. "I read the story on your work in the newspaper and found it to be highly encouraging. I am interested in the same subject."
"The original ending to the Gospel of Mark?"
Valentino nodded his head. "I have studied Koine New Testament Greek for a number of years and have been involved in translating ancient manuscripts at the Musei Capitolini, Rome's oldest museum collection in the world. I know how to conduct the research that you are pursuing."
Jack held up his hand to stop Guido. "I'm sorry, but before we go any further, I must tell you that we have no funds to hire another staff person. We simply don't have the money."
Guido smiled. "Please, I have not come for a salary. I have sufficient funds to cover all of my own expenses. I am here as a volunteer to be of assistance to you."
Jack leaned back in his chair. "You are serious?"
"Dr. Townsend, my family has been in Rome for centuries. I know this city like the back of my hand. My time has been spent doing the work of a scholar. Because of this background, I am more than interested in your current project. It is exactly what I have been hoping for, and that is why I have come."
Jack glanced at Michelle sitting there with her mouth slightly open. Obviously, she was surprised.
"Perhaps, it would be best if I came to work for a month and you could see if my language skills are adequate. Should I not meet your needs, I would withdraw with no questions asked. However, if I am able to work, then I would be ready to be a major part of your project."
Jack studied Valentino carefully. If this man was deceptive, it certainly didn't show. Everything about his straightforwardness suggested he could be trusted, and he had a goodness about him. Moreover, this Italian manifested a humbleness that suggested he would be easy to work with.
"I have a statement describing my studies." Valentino pulled several sheets of paper from inside his coat. "I think this will answer any questions about my background."
Jack glanced through the resume. "Impressive. When could you start work with us?"
"How about tomorrow morning?"
Albert Stein took off the earphones and stared out the windshield of the van. He had heard enough. It was time for a decision, but he had to think first. The windshield mirrored his hard, set eyes and thick glasses. His blonde hair looked like a scrambled mess from having spent endless hours in the van and sleeping on the floor. His bloodshot eyes left a sinister appearance. Albert's older brother had once described him as having eyes that only his mother could love. The quip hung in Stein's memory like a splinter under his fingernail. He occasionally thought he should have killed his brother for that remark rather than only beat him with their father's leather whip. Lack of sleep in a comfortable bed always brought out the violence forever lurking in a hidden corner of his mind.
Clearly, the Townsends weren't wasting any opportunity, and the addition of a new translator to their staff limited the amount of time he had left to act on the situation. The more he thought about the matter, the clearer it became that he must act at once and that meant he needed Klaus Burchel back on the job. Regardless of what the man had done, his services would help complete the task at hand. The immediate order of business was to run him down and get Klaus working again. Then, the rest of his plan would follow.
Stein picked up his cell phone and started to dial. Only then did he notice the newsstand and the vendor hawking newspapers only a few feet away. He had been living in the stinking vehicle for days and had lost contact with what was going on in the outside world. For the first time, it struck him how bizarre his actions had become since Burchel disappeared. Crawling out the side door, he stepped onto the street.
Stretching felt good, and the air smelled fresh. He had been so intent on electronic eavesdropping that he hadn't bathed in days. No question about it: he had to find Burchel so he could return to his normal lifestyle. Listening day and night to the outside world through a headset was madness and it had to stop.
Stein noticed the vendor gazing at him and supposed his clothes must look like they had been pulled out of a dirty clothes hamper. Walking over to the old man, he grabbed a newspaper off the top of the pile. Without shifting from a hard stare, Stein slapped money on the stack of magazines. The vendor looked away but reached for the coins.
Stein leaned against an office building and started glancing through Il Messaggero to discover what he'd missed in the last several days. A story on the third page leaped off the page at him. He held it closer to his eyes.
PRIEST MURDERED
Police continue to search for clues in the murder of Father Raul Raffello, rector of Santa Maria della Concezione Church. Found behind the basilica with stabs wounds in the chest, the priest apparently was killed in the middle of the night. Police are not releasing information but continue to believe the priest interrupted an intruder and was killed by the assailant.
Albert Stein slowly lowered the newspaper and stared at the building in front of him.
"So that's what happened to Burchel!" he muttered to himself. "Klaus Burchel must have killed that priest. That's why he's disappeared. Burchel's on the run."
Afternoon had fallen by the time Jack Townsend glanced out the window and saw Dov Sharon walking up the sidewalk. He laid down his pencil and immediately stood up. "Hey, here comes our boy! Get ready for an update."
Michelle looked up. "My, my. I wonder what our hero has brought home."
Dov pushed the door open. "Oy vey! A reception committee just waiting for me to wander in. You'd think I had something important to say. My, my. How enchanting."
"Don't give us that Jewish country-boy lingo," Jack said. "We want to know what you've come up with immediately."
"Come up with?" Dov frowned. "Was I suppose to find out something today?" He plopped down in the chair and scratched his head. "Seems like there was something you wanted me to do, but I'm afraid it's slipped my mind."
"Come on!" Michelle insisted. "Cut the nonsense. You know we're dying to know what Father Donnello told you."
Dov grinned. "As a matter of fact, the gentleman and I became old-fashioned pals. We cozied up to each other like camping buddies. Once you get the good Father talking, it's hard to get him to stop."
"Let's get specific," Jack said.
Dov leaned over his desk and the grin disappeared. "The so-called 'brown book' is slang for a parchment that apparently was written in the first century. A member of the Sanhedrin named Alphaeus had apparently inquired about an opinion from a highly significant person who became a big-time player in the earliest church. The man was James, the brother of Jesus."
"The brother of Jesus!" Michelle shrieked.
"That's what I got from Father Donnello. They have a document in which the brother of Jesus is commenting on who he thinks Jesus of Nazareth was."
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