The Second Messiah

A magnifying glass lay nearby. It looked as if the parchments were being studied for some kind of comparison. Jack’s heart beat faster as he eagerly moved closer. All the parchments appeared to be written in Aramaic. He didn’t waste time reading the complete texts but scanned them.

His heart sank. None was his Qumran scroll.

He turned back to the desk and the pinewood box lying on top. It was fitted with a pair of sturdy-looking metal clamps to keep it securely shut. A lab microscope, a desk lamp, and an ivory-handled magnifying glass lay next to the box.

A slim pile of notes and papers were stacked on the desk. Jack flicked through them and frowned. Some of the papers had what looked like jotted combinations of Aramaic words and letters, some of them scratched out, as if the writer had been trying to decipher words. Jack shuffled through more pages. On one he found a legible sentence, written in English:

When the messiah’s corpse was removed from the cross, it was placed in a tomb in the burial caves outside Dora, on the road to Caesarea.

The sentence jolted Jack. His pulse raced. He didn’t understand the words’ significance but knew he had stumbled upon something remarkable. He read the sentence again to be certain he’d read it correctly. Then he checked the next page and found a pen-and-ink drawing—it was embellished with vivid, dramatic images of animals, monsters, and sylphs.

He frowned again. Something about the drawing looked familiar. He racked his mind but couldn’t put a finger on it. Jack slid open one of the desk drawers. Inside was a jumble of pens and pencils, rubber erasers, and paper clips. He pulled open another drawer and discovered bottles of different colored inks, from black to purple, and copper brown. He eased shut the drawers, his attention drawn back to the pinewood box. Looking closely, he noticed it had a hinged lid. He fiddled with the clamps, pressing hard on one until it snapped open. His curiosity aroused, he snapped open the second clamp.

Very carefully, he touched his hand to the lid and lifted it back.

Inside the box lay the Qumran scroll.

Well I’ll be darned. Jack felt his heart race. I’ve found it.

Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to unravel and protect the ancient parchment, placing it in a two-layer sandwich of what looked like foot-square plastic or Perspex sheets. At the very bottom was a layer of straw. The plastic sheets were held in place by spring clips. Unrolled, the sepia-colored scroll was less than a foot long.

Portions of the parchment were worn and eaten with holes but most of it appeared to be in legible condition. He noticed something odd. Two sharp lines cut about an inch into the top right edge of the scroll, as if someone had attempted to slice away small portions of the parchment with a knife or scissors, then changed their mind.

Despite the cuts, none of the inked words in that part of the parchment appeared missing. Jack switched on the table lamp and the scroll’s coppery sepia tones came alive.

He could hardly contain his excitement. His mind was on fire; his palms felt sweaty. He lifted the magnifier from the desk and held it in focus over the parchment. The words in the first paragraph leapt out at him: Yeshua HaMeshiah.

With his excitement came a stab of fear. He knew he could be disturbed at any minute. He urgently tried to figure what to do next. A thought came to him and he replaced the magnifier and fumbled for his cell phone.

He flicked on the built-in camera and pointed it down. The screen blinked and came alive with the image on the desk in front of him. Aiming the lens at the scroll, he directed the desk lamp to neutralize the glare. When he got the distance just right, it allowed him to read a portion of the scroll with a crisp enough image.

He managed to shoot off seven photographs before he heard footsteps beyond the far door. He had a powerful instinct to grab the scroll and run but he suppressed it. Instead, he took out his notebook and pen, flicked off the desk light, and slowly lifted the clips at the edge that held the Perspex in place . . .

A little later Jack heard the door creak open and Novara appeared. He looked as surprised as Jack. “What are you doing in here?” the priest demanded.

Jack plucked down a book as he stood in front of one of the bookshelves. “I thought I heard footsteps. You took so long I came to look for you. Why?”

Novara let the door close behind him and raised his hand. He clutched a deadly-looking steel-blue automatic pistol. “Move away from the shelves, Mr. Cane, and do exactly as I tell you.”

“Did you hear that?”

Josuf rose from the table. “Hear what, madame?”