The Second Messiah

Anna forced back her tears as she looked down at her dying brother and patted his hand. “It’s time, dear Franz. John is here.”

91

Julius Weiss hated Rome.

Ever since he had first visited the city as a student many years ago, its history got right up his nose. The Romans had scourged the Jews almost into oblivion, and everywhere in this ancient capital’s grandiose architecture was a reminder of that brutal past. To make matters worse, Weiss’s own father had named him Julius. Talk about irony.

He crossed the road near the Colosseum that early morning as a white taxi pulled up at the curb. When he jumped in, the driver nudged out into the traffic and Weiss said eagerly, “Any more word from Lela Raul?”

Ari Tauber swiveled round in the passenger seat and nursed his bandaged hand. “She called me briefly some hours ago, sir. The call lasted less than a minute. She wanted to make sure I was okay. Since then, not a whisper. I’ve tried to have her cell phone located but her signal’s completely dead. I don’t understand. Was there really a need for you to fly to Rome?”

Weiss snorted. “Yes, there was. I have an important meeting.”

Ari Tauber frowned. At first he couldn’t see any of Weiss’s personal bodyguards but then he spotted a powerful Mercedes and a BMW bringing up the rear.

Weiss asked, “What are the chances that she’s no longer alive?”

Ari considered. “Jack Cane’s known her a long time. I get the feeling they’re still friends. I’d be surprised if he harmed her. My gut feeling tells me she’s out there, helping him, for whatever reason.”

Weiss’s lips twisted in a grim expression, his tone urgent. “Find her, Ari. Use every means you have to.”

“I already have, sir. My sources have turned up nothing.”

“Find her. No excuses. I’ll assign you extra men to tear Rome apart if need be. And keep calling her phone. If she answers, attempt to hold her on the line long enough for us to get a fix. Wherever she is, Cane and the scroll can’t be far behind.”

“One other thing, sir.”

“What?”

Ari held up his cell phone. “I got a call minutes ago. We got a copy of Yasmin Green’s passport photo from immigration. We couldn’t figure out her identity until we scanned her picture into our computers. Dyed hair and a complete makeover can’t fool digital face-recognition software. We know who Yasmin is, sir.”

“Who?”

92

Jack was woken by the sound of screeching tires. He came awake groggily and stared at his watch: 6:45 A.M.

It still looked dark outside, a silver crack of streetlight flooding into the room through the curtains. When he put out his hand for Lela, she wasn’t there. He climbed out of bed, flicked on the light, and saw her sitting in the chair near the window, wearing a hotel bathrobe.

He rubbed his eyes. “Some crazy Italian driver burning rubber woke me. Didn’t you sleep?”

“I managed a couple of hours but tossed and turned.”

“Any reason?”

She looked into his face. “You want the truth? I’m trying to figure out where we go from here, Jack. In case it hasn’t registered, we’re both in trouble deep enough to sink an elephant.”

Jack crossed to the minibar and saw Lela’s pistol on top. “Is that thing loaded?”

“Of course.”

“How’s your friend, Ari? Did you call again?”

“A couple of hours ago. Ari’s recovering. A doctor tended to his wound. Don’t worry, I kept it short, then I switched off my cell and removed the battery again in case the coordinates were traced. Ari will be fuming.”

“You’re right; you’re going to be in big trouble.” Jack twisted open a bottle of mineral water from the minibar. “Maybe it’s about time I helped save your career and earned you some brownie points.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack drank from the water bottle. “I have the scroll. It’s in a safe place. I switched it at Maloula for another old parchment. Pasha must have realized afterward and he’s probably out to kill me. For all I know, he could be working for Hassan Malik.”

Lela stared disbelievingly at Jack. “But—you told me you didn’t have the scroll.”

“No, I didn’t. I told you I didn’t steal it from Professor Green.”

Lela said angrily, “Don’t play with words, Jack. Where’s the scroll?”

“In a safe place.” He held up his cell phone. “For good measure I have photographs I took of the parchment. I figured no one would think of looking in my cell phone memory.”

Lela flushed. “Jack. . .”

“Don’t accuse me of lying or twisting words. I had a valuable document to retrieve and preserve, and I was prepared to use any means to do it, Lela.”

“But you did lie to me, Jack.”

“Maybe a small white lie. But I had to keep the scroll safe at all costs. I just didn’t know who I could trust.”

“And you trust me now, is that it?”

Jack looked into her face. “Honestly? I’m not sure. But I obviously trust you enough to let you in on this.”

“Where does that leave us?”

Jack drank from the bottle. “I wish I knew. But if you’re right about us hearing from Hassan, then he’ll want to trade: everything I know about the scroll in return for Yasmin.”

“Do you want her that badly?”