Trying to hide his fear, Efran replied, “I will remain behind as you request.” Turning to the rest of his dig team he said, “Please pack your things and leave. The dig is now officially closed.”
Thirty minutes later, two additional four-member Mossad teams had arrived to secure the area. No one else was allowed on-site until the investigation was complete. By eight a.m., all of the dig staff except Efran had packed and left. Efran packed his things and sat waiting for Marcus. His terror was growing by the minute.
Finally, Marcus walked back over. “Mr. Finkelstein, would you be so kind as to accompany me to headquarters? There are some additional questions we would like to ask you.”
Efran, now no longer able to contain his fear, asked, “Why can’t we finish the questioning here? I’ve told you all I know, and I don’t see what more I can add to your investigation.”
“Mr. Finkelstein, I have been instructed to bring you in. You may accompany me willingly or by compulsion. It is your choice.”
Shaking now, Efran barely managed to get out, “I guess I have no choice in the matter.”
Stepping a few paces away to address one of the members of his investigative team, Marcus said, “Secure the area, and do not go into the underground tunnels. Leave a four-person team on-site overnight to keep watch. By tomorrow morning we will bring in additional personnel and members of the Antiquities Authority.”
Marcus walked back over to Efran. He extended his hand, indicating the parking area. “Mr. Finkelstein, if you will.”
The drive to headquarters took an hour and a half, and not a word was spoken. Marcus could tell by Efran’s body language that he was truly scared. By the time they interrogated him, he would be ready to tell all he knew. They entered the building, and Marcus ushered Efran into a small room with a table and several chairs. “Please wait here, Mr. Finkelstein. One of our interrogators will be here shortly.”
Efran shuddered at the word “interrogators,” visibly shaken. Marcus left the room and walked around the other side to look in through the one-way glass. They would leave him there to soften up for an hour more before they questioned him.
An hour later, Marcus returned to the room and sat down. “It seems that I will have to ask the questions today, Mr. Finkelstein. Mr. Awad is currently occupied. It seems he is having a challenging time getting a terrorist suspect to cooperate, if you know what I mean.” He said the last in a joking manner. “Just between you and me, I am glad Mr. Awad didn’t question you. His idea of a good interview often involves substantial amounts of pain. Anyway, that won’t be necessary, will it, Mr. Finkelstein?”
Involuntarily, Efran shook his head and stuttered, “No, Mr. Nayat, that will not be necessary.” His eyes almost begged to be believed.
Marcus directed Efran’s attention to the wall-mounted TV. Pushing a button on his remote, Marcus began to play the video feed from the Heron surveillance drone from the previous night. As Efran watched the video, the blood drained completely from his face. Immediately after the video clip showing his involvement in the preceding night’s events, the video went right into a clip showing a small brownish floating device being captured by the bakery’s magnetic field. Efran had to grab the edge of the table to keep his body from shaking out of his chair. It always surprised Marcus that criminals were the last to believe they would ever get caught.
“As you can see, Mr. Finkelstein, we have been watching you for some time.” Now his friendly tone was gone. “I would encourage you to tell me everything you know. If you do not, I am sure Mr. Awad will be glad to finish this interview for me.” All Efran could do was gape in abject horror. “If you don’t mind, let’s start in the present and work our way backwards. Tell me about the events of last night.”
Marcus paused, waiting for Efran to speak. After several attempts in which he could not say a word, he finally started to speak in a whisper; after a few moments, as if gaining strength in the telling of his treachery, he did not stop for an hour.
When he had finished, Marcus asked, “So as far as you know no, one else besides Kameel, his associates, Rachael, and Zane know of the artifacts you discovered. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“If I understood your story correctly, you did not personally see any of the artifacts—you only overheard Zane and Rachael discussing them?”
“Yes.” Efran nodded.
“Tell me again exactly what you overheard them say.”
“I had sneaked down the tunnel behind them and was about thirty feet down in the darkness when they found the artifacts. I heard them mention the discovery of clay pots with scrolls in them. On a second shelf, they found many clay tablets with inscriptions in several different languages. Then, after a few minutes, I could hear them exclaim about an inscription on the opposite wall. I heard Rachael read ‘Nagad, echad, habhab, ahabah.’ From what I gathered, this inscription was over a three-column list of Hebrew names. The list, it seems, is similar to the one found in the first chapter of the book of Matthew from the New Testament. This list is the supposed lineage of the Christian messiah Yeshua, or Jesus.”
Writing notes as Efran spoke, Marcus looked up when he stopped. “Do you have any idea what the inscription above the list might mean?” he asked.
“No, it does not make any sense to me in the context of the list. I have no idea.”
“Do you remember anything else they might have said?”
“No, that is all I recall.”
“Okay, Mr. Finkelstein, you have been cooperative so far, and that will go well for you. I have convinced my superiors to let you go so long as you agree to work for us.” From a bag on the floor, Marcus removed a small belt. “This belt is a tracking device, Mr. Finkelstein. It will track your every movement. As a condition of working with us, you will wear this belt at all times. If at any time you attempt to remove it, a small explosive charge will detonate, and well, frankly, it will cut you in half. If at any time you attempt to run, we can remotely detonate this belt. Do you have any questions?”
Marcus’s tone was cheerful. The belt was not an explosive device, but Marcus thought it never hurt to encourage the proper respect. With this motivation, it was less likely suspects would remove the belt. At least for a while, anyway. Efran shook his head in complete resignation. The small measure of relief he had felt at the possibility of being let go was replaced with the new fear of being cut in half should the device fail. Added to these fears was the question of what they would ask of him. He knew now that his freedom was over. He would be used by the Mossad and then discarded whenever he was no longer useful. With bowed head, he sat quietly waiting.
“Please stand up, Mr. Finkelstein.” Efran stood, and Marcus snapped the belt snugly around his waist. “The belt is waterproof, and you do not have to fear it getting wet should you desire to wash or shower. You can wear it under your clothing, but just remember, unless you want to be cut in half, do not remove the belt. You are to continue your normal routine as if nothing has happened. Our director, Mr. Yadin, has contacted your superior, Mr. Neumann, and explained the situation. In case you did not know it yet, Mr. Harrison and Miss Neumann escaped safely from the underground cave and are now recuperating from their ordeal. Until further notice, you are to confine your activities to your residence in Tel Aviv and your office in Jerusalem. You are to await further instructions. Do you have any questions for me?”
Efran shook his head. Marcus indicated the door. “You may go, Mr. Finkelstein.”
Chapter 69
Rachael picked up Zane’s cell phone from the pocket of the dashboard. Her father answered on the first ring. “Abba,” Rachael exclaimed with a mixture of joy and relief.
“Rachael, my dear, it is so good to hear your voice! I have been so worried about you.”
“Abba, oh Abba, you will . . . we will . . .” Rachael struggled as she tried to get out all her thoughts at the same time.
Her father interrupted her. “Dear, I just received a cal
l from Chief Yadin of the Mossad. He explained most of what has happened and told me you are likely on your way here. They have been following your car with one of their surveillance drones. You can wait to explain everything until you get here. But you are okay, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Abba, we’re both okay. But Abba, we discovered an incredible trove of scrolls and artifacts. Someone needs to secure the site.”
“You discovered additional artifacts at the site?”
“Yes, an incredible cache . . . scrolls, clay tablets, and an amazing inscription across one wall. The site needs to be guarded to protect the finds.”
“Dear, Chief Yadin assured me the site will be under guard by the Mossad until an investigation is completed. No one will be allowed in until then. We may get special permission to go back in tomorrow or the next day. Do not worry about it right now. The most important thing is that you are okay. When you get here, we will discuss how to proceed with this discovery. Is there anything I can get ready for you? Are you hungry?”
She sighed and closed her eyes, letting some the intensity go out of her voice. “Yes, Abba, very hungry. I’m sure Zane is as well. Most of all I am tired, though.”
“Be careful, and I’ll see you in a little while then. Breakfast will be waiting.”
Rachael put the phone down and looked over at Zane. “My dad says the Mossad was watching us the whole time by camera from one of their surveillance drones. They have the area secured.” Pointing out the window, Rachael said with a hint of something more, “Take that exit and head for Jerusalem. I’m taking you home to see my father.”
With greater relief creeping across her face, she continued, “You know, Zane, it will take months if not years to properly preserve and examine the artifacts we found at the site. This could be one of the greatest discoveries in the land of Israel in our lifetime. I know I’m jumping to conclusions right now, but the inscription on the wall was probably written by the New Testament Matthew. That inscription has been almost perfectly preserved for almost two thousand years. I can’t wait to get back to examine it.”
Rachael continued to talk as the miles sped by. Her talking about the find seemed to relieve both their stress. Every now and then Zane would glance over at her, and he could tell by the excited glow on her face she was no longer thinking about the ordeal they had just experienced—she was lost in the world of their discovery. About thirty minutes later she suddenly stopped, and Zane looked over at her.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
With an embarrassed expression she replied, “I just realized I’ve been talking nonstop for over thirty minutes. Hope it hasn’t bothered you.”
Zane smiled with genuine warmth. “Rachael, your words and excitement over the discovery were just what I needed to relax. I was wound up so tight I was about to break. Please continue . . . listening to you is also keeping me alert and awake.”
She nodded, her own eyes shining with appreciation and warmth. For the next half-hour she talked about the discovery and what needed to be done. She speculated about what they might find and how they should proceed. Finally they entered the suburbs of Jerusalem, and she directed him to her house. They pulled up to the door and stopped. Rachael got out, and looking back into the car where Zane sat, she said, “Come on, Zane Harrison, let me introduce you to my father.”
Zane got out and accompanied her to the door. Just as she reached to turn the handle, the door opened and her father stood in the doorway. “Rachael!” he said. “I’m so glad you are all right, my dear.”
With tears in her eyes, she walked into his arms and returned his hug without reservation. They both stood there for some time, oblivious to the world around them, until Mr. Neumann remembered Zane standing there. Still holding Rachael in his left arm, he extended his right and said, “Mr. Harrison, I presume. Welcome to our home. Please come in.”
Ushering them into the house, they walked back to the kitchen. On the table was a large breakfast. There was labaneh, a homemade yogurt cheese, shakshouka, a spiced egg and tomato dish, vegetable salad and traditional cheese salad and rugelach pastries. In large cups was steaming hot Turkish coffee. Rachael laughed when she saw the feast. “You must have thought you were going to feed an army, Abba. It looks delicious.”
Smiling, Jacob Neumann replied, “I didn’t know how hungry you were, and I wasn’t sure what young Mr. Harrison here would want to eat, so I thought I would cover all the bases.”
Looking at Zane he said, “I’m not sure what you are used to eating, Mr. Harrison. I hope you find something here to your taste.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m not a particular eater. What you have here looks delicious. Thank you for the consideration.”
“If you would like to wash your hands, you can use the sink there,” Mr. Neumann continued, indicating the kitchen sink. “Down the hall and to the right is the restroom if you prefer.” Rachael excused herself for a minute, and Zane walked over to the kitchen sink. Turning on the faucet, he found the soap and washed his hands and arms. A few minutes later Rachael returned. She looked like a different person. She had washed up and brushed her hair and slipped on a skirt and a new blouse. She had an infectious smile that almost covered her exhaustion.
As she reentered the room, Zane couldn’t help but smile. Rachael Neumann was a truly beautiful young woman. Standing up, he held a chair for her, and with a peculiar expression he did not recognize, she sat down, thanking him.
Mr. Neumann rejoined them and looked at Rachael. “Rachael, would you care to give thanks?”
Rachael nodded and bowed her head, and in Hebrew she prayed, “Father in heaven, we thank you for your protection tonight. Thank you for this food and the guest within our midst.” For Zane’s benefit she added, “Amen.”
Everyone was silent as they ate. Rachael and Zane were especially hungry. After satisfying their appetites, they sat and discussed the night’s events once again, Mr. Neumann asking questions now and then. For the most part, Zane just listened. The food and warmth of the home relaxed him and made him sleepy.
Chapter 70
London, England
Sir Peter Herschel picked up the phone on the second ring. “Yes,” he answered.
“It’s Tacitus, sir, and I have more information for you. Contact 13 is Efran Finkelstein, a member of the Israeli Antiquities Authority dig staff. He has been in charge of a dig in Capernaum for several months now. He has been sending information to an as-yet-unknown contact. He is a petty criminal trying to sell Israeli antiquities. It seems two of the people on his dig team made a huge discovery yesterday, and Mr. Finkelstein attempted to kill them so he could steal the artifacts and sell them. He communicates with his secret contact by means of the electronic devices via the sewer system.”
The silent voice on the other end of the phone line finally spoke. “Did Mr. Finkelstein describe any of the artifacts?”
“He did not get a chance to see any of them; he only overheard Rachael Neumann and Zane Harrison discussing the find. He related to me no specifics other than many ancient scrolls and clay tablets. Oh, and on one wall, four words were carved above a list of names. It appears to be a Hebrew version of a list found in the first chapter of the New Testament book of Matthew. The four words do not appear to make any sense. It may be a code of some sort.” With a pause as if he was reading notes, Marcus said, “‘Nagad, echad, habhab, ahabah.’ Literally translated, that means ‘tell one sacrifice loved.’ Mr. Finkelstein provided no other information of interest.”
The voice came through the line, cold, sinister, and direct. “Mr. Nayat, how many people know of this inscription and the artifacts?”
Marcus shuddered, realizing the Guardian had used his proper name and not his code name. “Sir, as far as we know right now, only Efran Finklestein, Rachael Neumann, Zane Harrison, and possibly Rachael Neumann’s father know. They drove directly to her father’s house when they left the dig site. The dig has been cordoned off, and no one is allowed in until an inve
stigation has been completed. It will likely be closed until at least tomorrow.”
“Thank you for the information, Mr. Nayat; it has been very helpful. Your assistance will not be forgotten. Please keep me posted on any new developments. Good day.”
For some reason, Marcus did not feel reassured by the appreciative tone of the Guardian. It almost felt as if the lion was thanking the gazelle just before eating its bloody meal. For the first time, Marcus Nayat felt real fear. What would happen when the Guardian had all the information he needed from him? Would he be the last loose end to be cleaned up?
When Sir Peter Herschel hung up the phone, he sat thinking for several minutes. Peter Herschel had recognized the symbolic nature of the coded words instantly. There was no doubt in his mind that when the discovery of the inscription was made public, someone would figure out the code, and it would lead them to the discovery of the secret—of the 13th Enumeration. That event was unacceptable, for they were not ready yet. The world was not ready yet.
Picking up the phone, he dialed a number. Two-thousand-two-hundred-and-eleven miles away in a safe house in Israel, Anton Ramirez answered. After the coded introduction, Peter Herschel continued giving precise instructions for several minutes. When he had finished, Anton’s voice, heavy with anticipation and excitement, replied, “It will be my pleasure, sir.”
The line went dead, and Peter Herschel knew his emissaries were on the hunt once again. His angel of death was loose in the land of Israel.
* * *
At seven a.m., Ms. Ulatowski came to the operations center to take David to his lodgings. He knew he didn’t have a choice even if he wanted to stay. But he didn’t want to stay. He wanted to call Zane to make sure he was okay. He knew Zane was probably pretty shook up right now. Thankfully, he understood they were at Mr. Neumann’s house and everyone was fine.
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