The Second Messiah

Yasmin looked at the thick wedge of papers. “There’s no way you’ll get through all of this documentation in forty-five minutes, Jack.”

“You take one half and I’ll take the other. Try to speed-read.”

“What am I supposed to be looking for?”

Jack next separated the documents into two equal piles, keeping Kubel’s document for himself. “I wish I knew. But if you notice anything unusual, anything that stands out or seems intriguing, holler.”

“In a library?”

“Bad word choice. Whisper. Now let’s get started.”

70

Jack curbed his mounting curiosity and placed the report by Father Kubel aside for now. He separated his documents into neat stacks.

They consisted mostly of official Vatican letters inquiring after the dig’s progress and querying expenditure. Nothing stood out. Next, he scanned Kubel’s report—eight neatly typed pages—and then read it twice.

After ten minutes, Yasmin broke off from what she was reading. “Any luck?”

“The report’s pretty basic. Kubel gives a testimony of the accident and states the police investigation concluded that the deaths of my parents and Basim Malik were an accident.”

“Who’s Basim Malik?”

“The driver who died with my folks. He worked on the dig, much like Josuf. Kubel reported that foul play wasn’t suspected, and that the scroll was vaporized in the accident. But he makes no mention of the scroll’s content. That’s strange.”

“Why?”

“My dad allowed Kubel and Father Becket a good look at a small portion of the scroll he’d managed to unravel, before we headed off in the pickup to the Israeli Antiquities Department in Jerusalem. Kubel and Becket were familiar with Aramaic. It just seems weird that Kubel didn’t mention whatever they’d read that day.”

Puzzled, Jack handed the document to Yasmin and said, “Take a look for yourself. Have you come across anything?”

Yasmin put aside some pages “Not yet. Trawling through a bunch of correspondence from Vatican bookkeepers doesn’t exactly ring my bell.”

“Here, let me check your stuff.”

“You’re welcome to it.” Fifteen minutes later Yasmin had examined all the file material. “You’re right. Kubel’s report is bare-bones. It reads more like a back-covering exercise than a testimony.”

Jack finished checking Yasmin’s documents. He scanned the wall clock: thirty-seven minutes had passed. He rummaged in the files. “Do you have document number nine?”

Yasmin checked her pile. “No, why?”

Jack’s fingers traced words on some notepaper pages in the stack. “The index says that document number nine is titled ‘Father John Becket’s statement.’ Except it’s missing. Look for yourself. But another note here says: Refer to file number QUM121B. Could that mean it’s been replaced in another box file?”

Yasmin studied the shelves. “I see file number QUM121B.” She pointed beside where Kelly had located their file. “It’s written on the spine of that box.”

“I’m going to take it down and have a quick look.”

“But Jack, Kelly said—”

“Tell me a rule that hasn’t been broken.” Jack saw Kelly shoot a brief look in their direction before returning to his magazine. Jack whispered to Yasmin, “I’ll keep an eye on him. You pluck down the file. Situate yourself in front of the Madonna statue so that Kelly doesn’t spot you.”

“Why me? And what about the cameras?”

Jack smiled. “You’re slimmer and can hide behind me and the statue. The people who man the security cameras won’t know Kelly’s conditions. And if he spots what you’re up to, all he can do is have security throw you out.”

“Funny.”

“Get the box down. Lay it flat on the table so that Kelly won’t see it.” Jack turned and studied a document from the file, placing himself beside the Madonna bronze. Kelly was still reading. “You’re all clear, Yasmin.”

Jack heard a scraping noise behind him, then a slapping sound as something hit the table hard. “What the heck happened?” he hissed.

“I—I dropped the file,” Yasmin said.

Jack saw Kelly’s head jerk up, as if he’d heard the noise. He stared over. Jack gave him a silent wave, then continued to pretend to study the document in his hands. Kelly returned to his magazine.

Jack said without turning round, “We’re okay, Kelly’s reading. Have you put the file on the table?”

“Yes.”

“Try to keep an eye on Kelly from over my shoulder.” Jack turned back to the table, flicked open the second box file, and the same balsa wood scent hit his nostrils. A typed page lay on top of a thin pile of papers. It said: “Qumran dig, Additional documents from Fr. Franz Kubel.” Jack searched in the paper pile. “It doesn’t look like Becket’s statement is—”

He stiffened, his gaze fixed on a roughly made drawing in front of him in the shape of a Roman scroll—embellished with vivid pen-and-ink engravings, dramatic images of animals, monsters, and sylphs.

Yasmin asked, “What’s wrong? What have you found?”

“Something pretty remarkable indeed.”

71

“You ask me, those guys are definitely on a stakeout. What do you think, Lela?”