The Messiah Secret

She’d also told Bronson how she’d grown increasingly concerned about leaving him on his own at the house, especially when he’d failed to call her from the police station as he’d promised, and failed to answer his mobile. Filled with a growing sense of unease that she couldn’t quite explain, she’d driven her Mini – in her words ‘like a maniac’ – back down the country roads, and had arrived at Carfax Hall to find Bronson out cold on the floor and Jonathan Carfax tied up and very much the worse for wear.

Carfax had explained that when their attacker had heard the sound of wheels on the gravel, he had run off. Bronson now realised that Angela had possibly saved both their lives. He leaned forward and put his hand on hers, thinking – not for the first time – how fortunate he was.

Angela looked at him appraisingly. They’d spent the night together in her room, because – she told him later – she felt sorry for him – and thought he needed mothering. It hadn’t quite turned out that way, and Bronson had proved that although his head might have been hurting, the rest of his body was in perfect working order. He sat back, stretching his legs in front of him. If getting himself knocked out was all that was needed to get him and Angela back together again – well, he’d have done it long ago.

‘What do you mean?’ Angela asked now. ‘Exactly?’

‘I’m not talking about us,’ Bronson said. ‘I know you too well, Angela. What happened last night caught both of us by surprise—’

‘It certainly surprised me. The first time, anyway.’

Bronson grinned at her. ‘Yeah. Anyway, I know you’re still not sure about allowing me back in your life, and I’m prepared to work at showing you that you can trust me. What I meant, though, was this Bartholomew’s Folly thing. I saw the expression on your face when Jonathan was talking about it. Despite the dangers, you want to do some digging, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I suppose I do, if for no other reason than to find out why some thug would travel over here from the States – I’m assuming he doesn’t live here – to try to beat information out of Jonathan Carfax.’

‘So here we go again,’ Bronson murmured. ‘Another Lewis–Bronson treasure hunt gets under way. Is that what you mean?’

‘Maybe.’ Angela smiled at him. ‘You’ve got to admit, it is an intriguing story.’

‘OK. I know what Jonathan told us about the old man’s treasure hunt, so if you’re serious about this, I’m guessing you’ve got something else, some other piece of information, that relates to it.’

Angela shook her head. ‘Actually, I don’t really know very much more than you, apart from two things. First, those notes and stuff you found in the base of that hideous stuffed fox are quite interesting, though I’ll need to have a proper look at them over the next day or two. The other thing is the translation of the piece of parchment that Bartholomew Wendell-Carfax found in that earthenware pot apparently mentioned “the treasure of the world”, which is a fairly unusual expression.’

‘You’re assuming that the translation from the Persian original was correct, of course. I thought you said there was some doubt about that.’

‘There are doubts, yes, and without the original text there’s no way of checking it out, so all we can do is assume that the translators Oliver employed managed to get it right. But the thing is that I’ve read about this before, and the source I’m referring to was nothing at all to do with Bartholomew’s Folly. I remember seeing it on a fragment of text written in a different language, from another country and possibly dating from a different century.’

Bronson knew by the look of Angela’s dark brown eyes that she was determined to follow this one through. ‘Go on.’

‘It all goes back to a man named Hillel. He was an important first-century Jewish religious leader, a man involved in the development of both the Mishnah and the Talmud, and he later became the spiritual head of the Jewish people. He was known to be the author of various religious treatises, and his writings aren’t all that rare. Bits and pieces turn up fairly regularly, even today.’

‘So?’

‘So I was doing research at the museum a few months ago and I came across a fragment that had been attributed to Hillel, and which included that same expression – “the treasure of the world”. It stuck in my mind because I’d never heard it before. The problem was, though, it was only a fragment of text, just a few disconnected phrases. This was one of them, and it’s the only one that I can remember. I’ll need to go back to London, to the museum, and check it out.’

‘Haven’t you got to finish up here first? The cataloguing, I mean?’

Angela nodded. ‘Yes, but there’s not that much more to do, unless any more bits of china turn up. Basically, the proto-Corinthian olpe you found plus a few bits of decent English slipware are the only pieces of any value. I can have it all finished today, I should think.’

‘So you can be back at the museum tomorrow morning. And what then?’