The Second Messiah

“I tracked him down, got him cleaned up. It took him a while to stitch his life back together but he did it. Archaeology was his first love, really all he wanted to do. He worked a bunch of lousy part-time jobs to pay for college fees—flipping burgers, night watchman, pumping gas—and got himself through. A teaching post followed, along with digs in Mexico, Egypt, Rome, and Israel. I really don’t mean this to sound like a cliché, but in some ways I like to think he’s the son I never had.”

“You don’t have family of your own?”

Savage smiled gently and nudged a rock with the toe of his desert boot. “The dice never rolled that way. I guess I never found the right woman. But then twelve years spent in the Catholic priesthood didn’t help either.”

“You were a priest?”

“A long time ago. After two years of serving in Vietnam and seeing hell on earth, it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time.”

“You were a soldier too?”

“For a time. But that was then and this is now. What’s important for you to know is that I couldn’t bear to see Jack harmed. I want to see him happy and loved. I want to see him mend his soul before it’s too late and he . . .” Savage broke off.

Yasmin looked into his face. “Ends up like you? Is that what you were going to say?”

Savage shrugged ruefully. “Maybe. Just know that I care about him, Yasmin. He’s a man worth caring about. He’s passionate about what he does. In a way, it’s a continuation of his parents’ work, don’t you see? His way of honoring them. That’s why I’m asking you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“His father was a good and decent man, but boy, he could be a strong-willed character if he got an idea into his head. Jack’s cut from the same cloth. He’ll follow this business to the ends of the earth if he has to, no matter how dangerous the threat. That’s why I want you to do your utmost to convince him not to.”

“Why do you think he’ll listen to me, Buddy?”

“It has to be worth a shot. I don’t want Jack to wind up dead. Try to convince him to let the police handle it.”

“If you really think it’s worth trying.” Yasmin looked at Savage. “You said you knew who stole the scroll.”

He turned his gaze toward the stony ruins littering the dig site. “My instinct tells me it’s an Arab or Israeli criminal gang that was responsible.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because as long as archaeologists have been finding precious artifacts in the Holy Land, criminals have been trying to steal them. The black market is full of vicious crooks and it’s easy to understand why. One precious discovery could make them very rich.”

“Any particular Arab or Israeli gang?”

Savage took a last drag and flicked away his cigarette. “Take your pick. There are dozens. And I’m guessing this guy Pasha’s connected to them in some way. That’s why I need you to convince Jack to leave it to the cops. I don’t want him winding up dead. It would break my heart.”

“Any more talk like that and you’ll have me in tears, folks.”

They both heard Jack’s voice and turned. He was standing unsteadily and Yasmin went to take hold of his arm. “Pierre said you needed to rest.”

“Hey, I’m not done for yet. Just a little lightheaded after the morphine.” Jack hobbled over to sit on a boulder.

Savage said, “How long had you been standing back there?”

Jack smiled. “Long enough.”

Savage said, “Good. Then maybe you’ll think twice before making any more dumb trips like the one to Syria.”

“You’re wrong about that, Buddy.” Jack patted his injured leg. “It wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was even worth the blood and the pain.”

Savage frowned. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe, but I found a clue at the monastery and your suspicions are way off the mark.”

56

TEL AVIV

“Wake up, Lela. Rise and shine.”

Lela felt someone patting her face. She blinked and came out of a deep sleep. Ari stood over her with a big smile. “Sorry to ruin your siesta. How do you feel?”

Lela struggled to awaken. She was in a single bed, the overhead light was on, the bedroom curtains closed. “Half dead. How long have I been sleeping?”

Ari crossed to the window and flung open the curtains. “Three hours. I left a cup of fresh coffee on the nightstand. Hot and black, the way you always liked it.”

Lela sat up and squinted as sunlight exploded into the room. As she sipped the steaming coffee she looked around the apartment. The Mossad safe house was half a mile from headquarters. Ari had brought her there at 3 A.M. after they landed back at Tel Aviv. An hour’s debrief followed and then Ari showed her to the bedroom and told her to get some rest. Then he disappeared into one of the other rooms and minutes later Lela heard him snoring.

The apartment was spotlessly clean but the decor was lousy: straw-colored walls, threadbare dark curtains, and a suite of well-worn furniture that looked as if it was ready for the dump. Lela had lain under the fresh sheets for at least an hour, her mind racked by the previous evening’s events until she had been sucked into a coma by a wave of exhaustion.