The Second Messiah

“The images came through okay?”

Fonzi waved his cell phone. “Perfect. They got me so excited I was struck dumb. I never use the word awesome, but this is one time it certainly applies. I’m astonished, Jack. Totally. I take it you’d shot photographs of the scroll’s text before the theft occurred?”

“I’ll explain about that later.”

“If what I’ve read in the text is true, this is going to have the world’s media beating down your door. You’ll wind up famous.”

“This isn’t about fame, Fonzi. I just want a reliable and true translation.”

“And you shall have it. The first few lines of the parchment are in clear, by that I mean unciphered. The rest are in Atbash code, which is why they seemed unreadable. Such a technique isn’t unusual in some Essene documents, but don’t ask me why. The Essenes were a strange bunch, to say the least.” Fonzi led them through an enormous room filled with rows of illuminated glass display cases. “Have you ever been to Rome before, Lela?”

“Never.” Curious, she peered in at displays of coins.

Fonzi said, “Roman currency. Our collection includes gold and silver coins from the sixth century B.C., when the city was first founded. If we have time later, I’ll give you the guided tour.” He gestured to a nearby pair of floor-to-ceiling doors. “In there, if you’re not too faint of heart, are collections of lewd Roman-era drawings, ornaments, and frescos. One of the collections was owned by an infamous Borgia pope, notorious for his shameless sex life.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“Actually I’m not. Did I mention what is perhaps our most important collection of all? Our records.”

“What kind of records?”

“Examples of original Roman files, military records, accounts, and diaries. All kinds of writing on wood plate, parchment, papyrus, and inscribed on stone and metal.”

Jack said, “What about the inscription I asked you to check?”

“The records suggest that a centurion named Cassius Marius Agrippa served in Dora, sometime between 27 A.D. and 36 A.D. The same man rose through the ranks to become a senior officer commanding Tyre, and later a general and a wealthy businessman and consul.”

“That answers that. Have you got everything set up?”

“We’re good to go. We’ll use the basement projection room.” Fonzi wheeled his way toward a pair of stainless steel elevator doors. He pressed a wall button and the metal doors swished open. “This thing’s barely wide enough to take me and my wheels. The basement stairwell’s through the doors to the right. See you both below.” Fonzi pushed himself inside, turned his wheelchair round, and stabbed a button with his finger. “Arrivederci, kids.”

The elevator doors whirred shut and it descended.

Jack said, “Fonzi once worked for the Rothschild Museum, which sponsored the dig that discovered the first Dead Sea scrolls. He’s translated hundreds of Qumran texts, so if he says the scroll’s astonishing, we’re in for a treat.” He pulled open the stairwell door for Lela. “Maybe at last we’ll be able to understand why people are prepared to kill for this document. And what dark secret it’s been hiding for the last two thousand years.”

98

Anna Kubel checked her watch. She felt emotionally battered. Two hours had passed since John Becket arrived and by now her brother’s wheezing sounded like a dying croak.

John Becket sat, silently holding Franz Kubel’s hand and staring into his face. It was bone-white, the eyes closed, Kubel’s wispy hair clinging damply to his forehead. “How long has he been unconscious, Anna?”

“He’s been drifting in and out for the last thirty-six hours. Just as you arrived he came awake briefly.”

The pope had anointed the dying priest with holy oils from his black bag, then he had raised his hand and pronounced the absolution. “Deinde ego te absolvo. . . I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Now he patiently held his old friend’s hand as Anna spoke quietly. “You said to call you if he became lucid again. He did, several times, but slipped back into the coma.”

“It’s to be expected, Anna.”

“Franz even insisted that I reduce his morphine because he wanted to keep a clear head when he saw you. But each time you arrived these last few days the pain seems to get too much to bear and his mind shuts down.”

“I had hoped to speak with him. Franz’s letter made it clear that he felt it terribly important.”

Anna stared down at her brother. “It breaks my heart to see him so helpless.”

John Becket grasped Anna’s fingers. “In the end, we are all helpless. We are like children again before we are lifted up into the arms of our Father. Be strong. It will be over soon, Anna.”

She wiped her eyes. “In the past, you and he were once such good friends. He so often talked about you. Yet he never told me why you fell out. Of course, that was Franz, always secretive.”

Becket said, “We were the best of friends. Franz taught me so much. He was a kind and loyal comrade.”