The Second Messiah

“Me too. I feel like I’ve been crawling through a muddy battlefield after those tunnels. You go first. I need to call our driver, Cohen, and see if Ari’s okay.”

Jack checked out the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and hung it around his neck. “I’m still waiting for you to explain about Yasmin.”

“Have your shower first. Then I better take a look a closer look at that scalp of yours. The bleeding may have stopped but the wound will need to be cleaned.”

Jack unbuttoned his shirt. “How do I know you’re not going to tell your Mossad friends where we’re hiding out?”

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“Trust you? Considering we haven’t seen each other in twenty years, I hardly know you, Lela.”

A tiny smile creased her lips. “And here was me thinking that we were married.”

Jack stood under the hot jets for several minutes, soaping his body clean. He toweled himself dry and checked the cut on his scalp in the mirror. The blood had congealed, but as soon as he touched the bruised gash an excruciating jolt of pain shot through him.

He examined his leg, unwinding the dressing until he came to the cotton pad stuck to the wound. The sutures were still in place. His leg didn’t hurt as much as the ache in his skull. He still had a handful of painkillers in the plastic vial Pierre had given him. He swallowed two with a glass of tap water, then stepped into the bedroom wearing a fresh pair of Chinos and a T-shirt.

Lela was sitting on the bed, talking on her phone. “I’ve got to go, Cohen. No, I can’t tell you where I am right now. But I’ll speak to Ari just as soon as he’s well enough. Meantime, take care of him.” She had a worried frown as she flipped shut her cell and removed the battery. She saw Jack observe her and she said, “In case you’re wondering, disconnecting the battery prevents a cell phone being traced.”

Jack slumped into the only chair in the cramped room. “I know; I read it somewhere. I did the same to my phone. What’s the story with your friend?”

“Ari’s Mossad colleagues found him. He was barely conscious and had lost a lot of blood. They managed to get him aboveground and drive him to a safe house. A doctor’s on his way.”

“You told me that the Mossad chief gave you orders to find out what happened to the scroll and to return me to Israel.”

“That was the general idea.”

“You still haven’t told me about Yasmin. It’s killing me.”

Lela put a hand behind her neck, undid a clasp, and let down her long black hair. “I’m going to take a shower first.”

She stepped toward the bathroom, and Jack admired her long hair, her olive skin, the curves of her splendid figure.

Lela said, “While I’m gone, how about you crack open that minibar and pour us both a stiff drink?”

“And then?”

“You and I are going to have a serious talk.”

89

Jack lay on the bed and replaced the telephone receiver as Lela came out of the bathroom. Her hair was wet and she had a white towel wrapped around her. She looked beautiful, her hair pulled back to the nape of her neck, exposing her high cheekbones. “Feel any better?” he asked.

“Much. I heard you talking on the phone.”

Jack swung his feet off the bed and stood. “I had a call to make.”

“To whom?”

He opened a couple of miniature scotches he’d taken from the mini-bar. “Someone I’m hoping can help me decode the scroll. There was no reply so I left a message for them to call me back. I also noticed at least a dozen calls on my cell from Buddy, but I switched off and didn’t check the calls. I didn’t want your Mossad friends to get a fix on me.”

Lela toweled her hair. “That’s wise. They could easily do that. Buddy’s probably trying to find out where you’ve gone after you disappeared from Qumran. By the way, I’ll have that drink now.”

Jack poured her a scotch and splashed in soda.

Lela took her glass and went to sit in the chair and finish drying her hair.

Jack sipped his scotch, leaned against the window frame, and watched her.

She noticed his staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Honestly? I’m trying to figure out why you’d want to help me.”

Lela blushed and put down her wet towel. “Because we were once friends. Because I cared about you. Maybe I even used to think that I loved you. I guess that had something to do with it. . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Tell me about Yasmin.”

“Professor Green certainly had a niece named Yasmin. She was born in Lebanon and brought up in Chicago.”

“I’m listening.”

“She died ten years ago.”

“Come off it, Lela.”

“It’s the truth. Sergeant Mosberg checked it out.”

Jack put down his glass, stunned. “I don’t get it. Who’s Yasmin if she’s not who she says she is?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out. But the professor had to be party to the deception. He went along with the pretense of her being his niece.”

“Are you suggesting that Green was in some way involved in the scroll’s theft?”

“Who knows? Something weird was definitely going on. There’s something else you ought to know. The Arab who took Yasmin.”

“What about him?”