The Second Messiah

Ari finished speaking on his cell phone and flicked it off. “Weiss is at a meeting right now and can’t be reached. I left him a message to call me back the moment he’s free.” His face creased with worry. “Is Mosberg a hundred percent certain that Yasmin Green died in an auto accident?”

“Mosberg’s a meticulous man. He wouldn’t make a mistake about that.”

Ari scratched his head. “If it’s true, then who’s Yasmin Green and what’s she up to? Why her subterfuge?”

“I have no idea. It’s got me stumped, Ari.”

“We’ll pull her photo from her visa application and run a check on it. There’s obviously something more going on here than we can figure. What if she and Cane have been together on this from the start? Did that occur to you?”

“For no more than a second. I know Jack Cane, Ari—”

“How could he be the same person you knew twenty years ago? Me, I wouldn’t trust him any more than the woman. What if they planned the theft, but somehow it all went wrong and Professor Green got killed and now they’re on the run?”

“That’s nothing but wild speculation.”

“Is it, Lela? It wouldn’t be the first time an archaeologist conspired with criminals to steal priceless finds.”

“I can’t believe Jack’s a willing criminal.”

“You can think what you like, but my money’s on Cane being tied up in all of this. I know Weiss thinks the same. Get real, Lela.”

Cohen, the driver, looked up as his cell phone suddenly jangled. He flipped it open and spoke in Hebrew. “We’re here, Mario. Where are you?” Cohen listened and peered beyond the windshield toward St. Peter’s Square. It was crowded with hoards of Vatican tourists. “No, I can’t see you yet. But stay put and we’ll find you.”

Cohen rested his cell phone on his chest. “My partner’s across the square, near one of the Vatican entrances, waiting for Cane and the woman.”

“Have they reappeared yet?” Ari asked.

“No, but guess what? He says they’re being followed by two men.”

69

Kelly slipped on a pair of reading glasses and consulted the slip of paper that contained a handwritten series of numbers and letters. He ran his finger along a shelf and selected a box file. A faded white sticker was glued on the spine. Written on it was a date and a couple of lines in indelible black ink.

Kelly said, “This is what you’re after. ‘A report compiled by Father Franz Kubel concerning the Qumran archaeological dig.’”

In front of them was an old beech desk and on top lay a magnifying glass with a worn wooden handle. Kelly placed the box on the desk and opened the lid. A smoky aroma of aged balsa wood wafted out.

Jack’s attention was drawn to what looked like a list that lay on top of the thick batch of documents inside. “What’s that?”

Kelly plucked out the page, studied it, and began to sift the papers. “An index of the file contents. It lists mundane details of the dig, the financing, the finds discovered, along with Kubel’s report.”

“I’d like to have some time to study all these documents alone.”

Kelly looked taken aback. “All alone? I hardly think that’s possible, Jack.”

“Don’t you think I’m due that right? Father Kubel’s report was only written because of what happened to my folks.”

Kelly shook his head vigorously. “I can tell you now, Jack, there’s nothing new or startling among these papers. I must also remind you that Vatican archives are only permitted to be handled by authorized experts.”

“I’m an archaeologist. I’m used to handling delicate and valuable documents.”

Kelly’s face flushed. “Well, it may do, but there’s bureaucratic protocol to consider. And that would require high authority.”

“Cardinal, we both know that you have the authority.”

“Well, perhaps, but—”

“The report’s twenty years old. If there’s nothing in there I don’t already know, is it really such a big deal? All I’m asking is an hour to look through the material. And think of what you’re getting in return.”

Kelly removed his reading glasses, considered, and sighed. “Very well. But you must confine yourself only to this file.” He consulted the wall clock: it read 5:15.

“You have forty-five minutes. Not a minute more. I have an important church appointment and I can’t delay, Jack.”

“Done.”

Kelly slid over the box file. He pointed past the bronze Madonna statue to a coffee machine. “I’ll be sitting over there. Call me the second you’re done.”

Jack and Yasmin stood alone in the glass-walled alcove. Yasmin studied the arrays of security cameras. “They’re not taking any chances, are they?”

“You can say that again.” Jack could almost feel the heavy silence in the chamber. The only noise was an occasional cough from one of the archivists or feet softly crossing the carpeted areas of floor. He looked past the bronze Madonna statue. Kelly had slumped into a chair by the coffee machine and was restlessly flicking through the pages of a magazine.

Yasmin said, “He seems eager to be out of here.” She stared down at the file. “Can we start? The suspense is killing me.”

Jack stacked the paper bundle from the box in a neat pile on the table.