by R D Hathaway
“What is it?” Matthew asked.
“Some guy has walked past the window a couple of times. Each time, he casually looked in as though he isn’t interested, but at the same time, I think he is. There’s just something in my gut. Hey, there he is again!”
Matthew and Angie spun around to see the suspect.
Rennie stood up, and as she did, the man looked in the window and saw her. He raced out of view.
Rennie hurried to the door.
“Rennie, wait. Don’t.” Angie called to her.
Reaching the door, she hesitated. Then, she burst out onto the sidewalk and yelled to the man, who was near the end of the block. “Hey there!”
He didn’t stop.
Rennie glanced inside and then back at the man. He reached the corner and disappeared past the building.
Rennie was breathing heavily when she returned to the table. Her mind was racing, and her stomach churned with anger.
“Who do you think that was?” Matthew asked her.
“I don’t know. We’ve garnered the attention of someone rather shy.” Rennie tried to grin. “I’m sure it’s nothing. He probably saw a couple of hot, American chicks and thought we’d ask him to join us if he walked past enough times.”
No one spoke for a moment.
“I’m sorry to get weird on you. Where were we?” Rennie pretended to relax.
Angie glanced out the window and responded, “Matthew asked about us, and it’s your turn.”
“Oh, that’s right. Being a reporter, I don’t give information. I only ask questions. Just kidding. Well, I’m inclined to evaluate how information relates to bigger issues. When I think of how I approach things, it’s from a macro or systems perspective. That probably gets me into trouble. I tend to see activities or relationships that convey more meaning to me than to others, like seeing suspicious pedestrians.”
They all laughed.
“Well, someone needs to see the big picture,” Matthew added.
Rennie stared out the window. “Seeing situations from the systems view points out how individual actions can skew the results of a process. Sometimes that can be intentional and even corrupt. A person who is focused on a specific task may not recognize, that doing one thing affects the outcome of the larger process. A good reporter sees how one person or one decision affects many others.”
Matthew replied, “Taking your perceptions to a more personal level, would you say you may be inclined to see the right and wrong in issues, more than other reporters might see them?”
Rennie grinned at Angie and then Matthew. “Have you two been talking about me? I doubt many people in the whole media system care about right and wrong. They get hung up on the so-called objectivity of our job. Taking a critical view of some issue forces one to the fringe of the industry. Except for government, the media is the only entity that can affect society on a community or even national scale. Doing that is actually our responsibility.”
“So, where does that leave you? It seems you have a heart for what is right and not just for facts barren of life.” Matthew stroked his beard and studied her.
“Good question. It’s something every person of conscience in every profession must deal with. I’m sure Matthias felt that. If we don’t have a conscience and a sense of purpose of what to do with it, the very few who have a position of any kind will prevail. That’s probably what brought me to London.”
Rennie studied Matthew. “We’d love to know more about you.”
“Ha, this old man can bore you for hours. But then, there may be some surprises in store.”
PART NINE
London, UK
IX - 1
“Judy, get Sfumato on the phone, now!” Seth Galila screamed to his assistant.
“Yes sir, right away,” she replied as she hurried to her desk. “Mr. Galila, it’s probably very early in the morning in California,” she said fearfully.
“Do you think I care?” he roared. “Get him, now! Idiot,” he said quietly. “I know what time it is there.”
He paced across his office and studied the morning traffic filling the road outside his window. His fury made his teeth chatter.
“Judy,” he yelled again. “Get Daniel in here!”
“Yes, sir,” she muttered. “There is no answer at Mr. Sfumato’s number.”
He strode to her office door and gazed at her. “Did you dial the right number, Judy?” he asked with bittersweet sarcasm.
“I’m certain I did. I’ll try again, sir.”
“Please do, Judy. I have the feeling that a man of Sfumato’s status might have a messaging service.” He flexed his fists.
Galila paced across his office. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he kicked one heel into the thick green carpet as he turned to glare at his assistant’s office door.
Judy called out to let him know she had a connection with the elusive phone in California. “The recording is running,” she added.
Galila grabbed the phone from his desk and sneered. “Hello, dear friend. I regret the timing of this call, but I especially regret that I cannot at this moment let you know personally that you had better get your people out of London. It is not a safe city.”
The tone of his voice shifted from snide to anger. “I will not tolerate you or your people getting in the way of my business!”
He slammed down the phone and pushed it aside. “Where’s Daniel?” he shouted.
A few minutes later, Judy let him know that Daniel was on his way into the building.
When the man arrived, he carefully took a step into the office.
Galila stepped away from the window where he had been in deep thought and pointed at a chair in front of the desk.
Daniel hesitated for a moment before going to the chair and sitting.
Galila turned again to face the window. “So, it is my understanding that your people were unable to perform their duties. Is that correct?”
“Our man at the hotel tried to do —”
“He didn’t do his job!” Galila screamed.
“Sir, you are right, but he was going to until they got to him,” Daniel quickly added.
“Tell me exactly what that means.”
“Well, when the ladies were at their meeting, my man was prepared to enter their rooms and do his research. Two fellows showed up in the hallway outside the rooms, introduced themselves as hotel security, and had him come with them. They took him down a stairwell, into the alley and forced him into an awaiting van. He didn’t have a chance.”
Galila strolled toward the nervous man and snarled. “My, it certainly is lucky he didn’t run into the ladies, isn’t it? They might have really roughed him up!”
“They secured his hands and put a bag over his head, sir. When they let him out, he was on the edge of the city. They told him it would be best for his health if he found another job.”
Daniel looked down at his hands in his lap. “I don’t think we expected this.”
“What I didn’t expect Daniel is that you would hire idiots. So, what happened to the other two?”
“Basically, the same thing; two men quietly met each man individually and took them away. It would not have been a time or place to resist. We want to maintain a low profile, I believe.”
Galila smoothly moved to the side of his desk and sat on the edge. “Do we know who these people are, Daniel?”
“At this point, all we know is they are very skilled and determined. It would fit with the methods of the one in California.” After a pause, he added, “And, they are inclined to use something other than stones.”
“My friend,” Galila said softly, “I recommend the stone for only the special people. You know I prefer a sliver of stainless steel applied to the hearts and minds of others.” With that, he sniffed and gently slid off the desk. Galila brushed his pant leg an
d stepped around to his chair.
“How would you like us to proceed?” Daniel asked.
“Until I speak with our interference in California, simply watch the ladies. Know everything about what they do. However, the moment they appear to have what they are looking for, do not be deterred again. Finish them!”
“What if they just leave?”
“Send someone reliable to follow them. At this point, we cannot assume they know nothing. There is a reason they came here.”
“Send someone to America?”
Galila grinned. “Absolutely. My dear, courageous mother sent our defenders of faith to places in Europe and even to Egypt. No effort is too great to protect the church from the passions of individual glory seekers.”
“One other thing Daniel, send your people to visit the home of Professor MacDonald. I don’t care if he’s at home at the time or not. He may not know what we are after, but we must determine if he has the letters or knows of them. In the past, we assumed he was as much an ignorant peasant as was his father. It is time we review the situation again. Take care of this immediately. Don’t let your people be distracted this time. If they are, they’ll deal with me.”
The man arose quietly and slipped out of the office. Galila didn’t bother to watch him leave.
London, UK
IX - 2
Matthew finished his remaining food and thought for a moment.
“It always amazed me when my colleagues would be covered with the dust of history at some dig site, holding in their hands what may be artifacts five millennia in age, and the mindset of these colleagues was cold and intellectual. They may as well be actuaries or bureaucrats who simply move numbers or push papers.”
“So, they’re focused on process and not substance?” Angie asked.
“Exactly. This is not to say they don’t do their work very well. They seem to have little passion for the discovery. My breath has often been pulled from me upon finding a simple pot or uncovering part of an ancient wall. There is a powerful connection between my work and me. I am an old man, but that does not mean I am empty of passion.”
His eyes became intense. “Rennie, I am compelled to do what I believe is good and right, and I think we know the challenges that come from that drive when one works in any organization.”
Angie held up her cup. “I for one understand the distinction between just doing a project and being committed to it, especially now.”
“Ah, yes,” Matthew responded. “Universities offer no relief from the tension between mindless functioning and doing the right thing. For people who care, the dilemma is deciding what and when we do something about it.”
“Matthew,” Rennie asked, “have we placed more value on doing and being productive in modern Western society than we have on the moral qualities of what we do?”
“It isn’t particularly modern. In the time of Jesus, the Pharisees pronounced as good those who closely obeyed their laws. The world of power is still Pharisaical in structure. If the laws of those in power are followed, one is a good person. Unfortunately, those laws have more to do with maintaining societies that are in opposition to what Jesus taught us.”
Rennie snorted. “It’s easy to see how that message creates conflicts. I’m experiencing a conflict at my paper right now. There’s a story I believe is important, but the top brass don’t want to hear about it. I know it’s the right thing to do.”
Matthew nodded. “I understand. If we follow Jesus in trying to do the right thing, we put ourselves on a different path than that of the world and its leaders. That’s very hard to deal with.”
Rennie was annoyed. “But we’re pursuing Matthias’s story because we think it is the right thing to do. Is that wrong?”
“My dear, I believe you are here today because of your heart and not some duty. Am I right? And, the time will come when you must take a stand on this story.”
Rennie laid her hand on his and grinned. “Okay, you got me there.”
Matthew pointed at the window. “Is that the man who walked by earlier?”
Angie and Rennie swiveled in time to see the man hurry past the window and disappear.
Rennie slapped the table. “I don’t know who that guy is, but he sure knows how to tick me off.”
A single eyebrow rose on Matthew’s forehead. “I think I should go check on this fellow.”
Rennie glared at the window, fighting the desire to go to it and look for the man. Instead, she said to Matthew, “No, it’s okay.”
The old man’s face displayed a tired sadness. “I believe I am consuming your entire day when you have much more to do. Is there anything else I can help with at this point?”
Angie touched Matthew’s jacket sleeve. “Matthew, you have been an enormous help to us, some we may not even know of.”
“Dear ladies, there’s one additional piece of information that I must share with you. It’s not public but is known to key people. It’s something I did, perhaps out of selfishness or pride.”
“Matthew,” Rennie responded, “you’ve shared enough. You don’t need to say more.”
“You might be pleased to know this. After my dear wife passed on, I decided to make a big change — specifically, I changed my name.”
Rennie blinked with confusion.
“As I related last night, Reggie MacDonald was not my father. Carrying his name as mine for so many years and knowing that truth left within me a boil I could no longer ignore but had to resolve. After my dear Ruth was gone, I had my last name legally changed from MacDonald to Justus. I am Matthew Justus, son of Matthias.”
Rennie looked at Angie and erupted into laughter. “That’s wonderful! It’s perfect! Your father would be so proud. Angie, I can’t get over this. Everything has come together, and it’s all good.”
“Well,” he continued, “some of my colleagues at the museum know and were pleased. Some in my family were not. All have kept the MacDonald name except for my grandson David. When I changed my name to Justus, he did the same. He’s an independent fellow and quite brilliant; a physicist and rather gifted in ancient Greek and other languages. I was privileged to have him join me on several expeditions when he was a boy. That sparked his interest in the ancient world.”
“My gosh,” Angie gasped, “this is all so much and so quick. Matthew Justus. I like the sound of that.”
Rennie lifted her water glass. “Here’s to Professor Matthew Justus, son of Professor Matthias Justus! Wow, I like the sound of that.”
“Thank you. See what your shrewd interrogation techniques have done.”
“Matthew, I have a question,” Angie said. “This goes back to something Matthias wrote about. Huh, I guess I could say ‘your father’ wrote about. Cool. He referred to a box he found at the museum, and I believe he mentioned it may have been from Antioch. How could we follow up on that?”
“Yes, I could help with that. I’m familiar with the staff of the Department of Ancient Near East at the museum. The Assistant Keeper for Syria and Palestine is a very good fellow and a professional friend. His name is Donald Abramson. He is brilliant and helpful, self-taught in many aspects of the work. Another colleague and old friend is Professor Alistair Snapper. Either will be helpful.”
Matthew noticed the remaining customers were leaving. “As I mentioned when we met last evening, the excavation I came from was in Turkey, not far from where Antioch was located. I was at the Jerablus Tahtani site and had planned to move on to the work either at Sidon, Lebanon or at Capernaum. The latter site is not one sponsored by the British Museum, but they have welcomed my assistance. I could follow up to see what the museum may have on artifacts from Antioch, but I’m not aware of anything found in Antioch like that.”
Rennie sighed, “Professor, from my reading of his journals, I do not think the item was found in Antioch, but rather was sent from there and found in Egypt.
”
“That explains it. A great deal is still being found in Egypt itself. A substantial number of manuscripts were found recently in a Coptic monastery there. They dated to around the seventh century from what I recall. I think it was at Deir al-Surian. The history of the Coptic Church dates back almost to the original disciples of Christ and the founders of Christian thinking. The Apostle Mark went to Alexandria to help spread the word there, and he died there at the hands of the Romans.”
“So, could he have brought to Egypt something from Antioch?” Rennie asked.
“Indeed, he not only could have, he probably brought and later received much from the other followers. Their nature was to write to each other for encouragement and for clarification of ideas. Just look at the letters of Paul to churches all across the area, from Rome to Ephesus. The New Testament books were written outside of what we call the Holy Land. In fact, after the temple in Jerusalem was destroyed in the year 70, the area of what is now Israel and Palestine was not safe for Jews or Christians.”
Rennie pushed dishes away from her. “So, what was going on with the churches in Antioch and in Ephesus?”
“Those, of course, were among the first churches, along with Alexandria. The Christians in Antioch were the first to carry the name of ‘Christian’ and Ephesus soon followed. It was also in Antioch that the document we know as ‘Q’ may have been written and subsequently used as the basis for the Gospel books by Matthew and Mark. By the way, the Gospel writer Mark is a different one from the disciple we know as Mark; perhaps, John Mark who was an associate of Paul.”
Rennie breathlessly asked, “So, the Apostle Matthew and this other Mark may have jointly assembled their recollections of the ministry and then individually wrote their books? And, might Luke have spoken with Mary to write his text?”
“You pose an interesting approach. I’m not sure I’ve heard it put that way. There is no question of the coordinated development of the Gospels, except for the Book of John. What you suggest is certainly possible. It would have been a natural process for the aging disciples to get together and share their remembrances in trying to write the complete story of Jesus.”