by Julian Noyce
“Yeah but gee….I’d love to have seen the spear perform its magic. You know it’s said that whoever possesses the spear would be invincible.”
Natalie and Dennis looked at each other and then at the American.
“We know,” they said together.
Hutchinson was staring into his coffee.
“Were there any clues in that journal Pete?”
“To tell you the truth, in all the excitement of the last few days, I haven’t even looked at it.”
“You’ve still got it though.”
“Yes. It’s in my hand luggage.”
“Can I have a look at it?”
Dennis put his rucksack on the seat next to him.
“Of course.”
He got the old leather bound journal out and unclipped the popper. Hutchinson began flicking through the pages. He paused briefly over the ones with Alexander the great’s sarcophagus on them. Then moved on. He went another four pages and paused again. There were some drawings here of Chinese lions and some writing he didn’t understand. He could read and speak Latin fluently but these days it was an almost dead language. Something on the next page caught his eye.
“Hm! What’s this?”
Dennis turned the book slightly to see better.
“This is to do with Sir Francis Drake searching for the lost cit of El Dorado.”
“Now that is interesting,” Hutchinson said studying the drawings.
Dennis reached across and turned the page.
“Moving on!”
“What?” Hutchinson said, “A guy can’t broaden his horizons.”
“Are you interested in the spear or not?”
“Of course.”
“Then let’s look for that. Wait a minute what’s this?”
There were four different drawings of spear heads. There was a sketch of Christ on his cross being speared in the side by a Roman soldier.
“And that I presume is Longinus stabbing Christ to death.”
“Looks like it,” Dennis said, then his tone took on a darker note, “You know Jim there are those who say that Longinus is still alive. That he still walks the earth. His punishment to dwell neither in heaven or hell for what he did that day.”
Hutchinson looked up from the page he was studying.
“What?”
“There is a legend about Longinus which often gets confused with that of the wandering jew.”
“It’s what? I’m sorry, say again.”
Natalie cut in.
“It’s said that as a punishment for what he did Longinus was cursed to walk the earth in perpetual immortality. The wandering jew is of a legend about a man who taunted Christ on his way to his crucifixion and was then cursed to walk the earth until the second coming of our lord. The two stories very often get confused.”
“I thought we discovered back in London that Longinus himself was beheaded.”
“He was,” Dennis replied, “He was beheaded in front of a king who was blind and the king’s sight was restored when he was splashed by the blood of Longinus. Or so the story goes. Like we said, it’s only a legend.”
Hutchinson was studying the four spears again. The Schatzkammer one was the only one sketched with a shaft.
“Now this is interesting,” Hutchinson said, “The Vienna spear is the only one depicted as having the shaft attached.
Dennis and Natalie both craned their necks to see.
“Do you suppose the shaft is needed. Maybe that’s the missing piece of the puzzle. Maybe it’s not relics at all. Would it still exist?”
Dennis saw a sign on the wall announcing free wi-fi. He picked up Hutchinson’s permanently left on lap top.
“Mind if I have a look?”
“Be my guest.”
Dennis got the answer in less than a minute.
“The shaft is in one of the four pillars of st Peter’s church.”
“Why didn’t they go for it then.”
“Probably they knew it would be impossible,” Natalie said.
“Or without the journal you’re holding they didn’t even know of its existence.”
“Hey. Apparently, legend has it, that another spear shaft exists in Israel or Palestine. The whereabouts is unknown.”
“That’s not much help,” Hutchinson said studying the drawings of the spear and shaft both separate and then joined together. The joined drawing had a halo around the spear head.
“It would seem that Doctor Von Brest knew that the spear was magical only when complete and joined to the shaft, Hutchinson tapped the leather bound journal, “That would now explain why Von Werner was desperate to get this back,”
“And kidnap you for it.”
Hutchinson turned another page. The creature sketched was hideous.
“What the hell is this?”
Dennis and Natalie leaned in again for another look. The creature drawn had its hands held up to its face and was screaming. The fingers were long with long fingernails like talons. The teeth were long and pointed, sharp fangs to rip at flesh. The jaw was also long and frayed in the sketch, where the jaw ended couldn’t be seen and yet, strangely, the creature was wearing what appeared to be Roman armour. There wasn’t enough of the shoulders and torso drawn to verify it but the armour definitely looked to be Roman. Next to the sketch were the words ’Casca Loggius’
“Casca Loggius,” Hutchinson said, “Is that the name of a place. Like city of the dead or something.”
“No,” Dennis shook his head, “It’s him. Longinus. Von Brest has misspelt the name. Or got it confused with someone else. These are very common names in ancient Rome.”
“Longinus? Don’t tell me you believe the story that he still walks the earth.”
Dennis looked at the foul creature in the sketch.
“If that’s anything to go by. I hope not.”
Hutchinson turned the next page, glad to be rid of the foul monster. On the next page was a sketch of the church of the holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. He flicked back a few pages to Christ on the cross, his side pierced by Longinus. Dennis was taking a swig of his coffee. Natalie had taken over the lap top and she suddenly looked up.
“I think I’ve found our missing link. There is a second possible location for the spear shaft,” she said spinning the computer screen around for them to see.
“Where?” they both asked excitedly.
Natalie brought up a map and zoomed out slightly.
“Qumran?” Dennis asked, “Where or what is that?”
“It’s the caves in Palestine where the dead sea scrolls were discovered,” Hutchinson answered, “It’s always been rumoured that they were linked to Christ himself. They’re certainly from the same time period. The Vatican on the other hand dismisses any evidence of Christ and the scrolls though.”
Natalie looked for more clues on the web page.
“Anything else?” Dennis asked.
Natalie read on. There were more clues and she read them out one at a time. Hutchinson listened intently. He continued to flick backwards and forwards between the pages of the journal.
Then he looked up.
“How sure are you that Von Werner is trying to heal himself?”
“I’m certain of it.”
He flicked through one last time and then snapped the journal shut. Natalie and Dennis still had their faces shoved into the lap top screen. Hutchinson suddenly jumped to his feet.
“Give me your tickets.”
They did as they were told. The American dashed off to find an official.
“What’s going on?” Natalie asked.
“ I Don’t know.”
Hutchinson was taken to a desk and a customs official came out to speak to him.
“I need to cancel these tickets.” he said, “I need three tickets for the next flight to Tel Aviv.”
The customs man picked up his telephone.
“Peter?” Natalie said.
“I think we’re still in the game,” he replied.
CHAPTER F
IFTEEN
CITY OF RAFAH, SOUTHERN GAZA.
Natalie looked across at the Mediterranean sea just four miles away and twinkling in the sunshine. It was a warm late October afternoon. The sky overhead clear. The sound of Israeli fighter jets never far away.
For the first time the team of Natalie, Dennis and Hutchinson had entered a war zone. From Rome Hutchinson had intended for the three of them to enter Israel directly but Dennis had persuaded them the easiest and best way to enter the Palestinian territories, currently closed to tourism, was through Egypt and the Rafah border crossing.
They had needed special permission to enter Gaza, as all visitors do, and during a three day stay over in Alexandria, Egypt, Hutchinson had managed to go to his office and make a phone call to a contact from the international solidarity movement for human welfare, otherwise known as the ISM, to invite them in as guests. Dennis’ status as a freelance journalist helping to speed up the normally three week waiting period process for the invite. Hutchinson had managed to arrange important archaeological permits to accompany them.
Dennis had acquired the 1994 Land Rover defender they were travelling in from someone he knew in Alexandria and the vehicle was perfect for what they needed. He had paid a fair price for it and had removed the black UN lettering from the white paint.
“Wouldn’t it be better to leave those on?” Hutchinson had asked.
“No,” Dennis had replied, pulling the last of the black stickers off. Their outline could still be made out as the paint around them had discoloured over the years, “Trust me they’ll only draw the wrong sort of attention to us and as westerners we are targets for kidnapping as it is,” he glanced at Natalie in the rear view mirror, “It might be a good idea to get rid of your ‘I love NY’ hat,”
He threw her a black and white Keffiyeh, the traditional head scarf worn by Arabs, “Put that on instead.”
“I thought only men wore them,” she said, tying it in place.
“Some women wear them. In some countries they’ve become a fashionable item.”
She concealed her blonde ponytail in it and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window.
“I quite like it,” she said.
“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have just flown into Gaza this morning,” Hutchinson said as they passed a sign for the Yasser Arafat airport.
“I told you,” Dennis said, “The airport was destroyed in 2001 by Israel and the other airport simply known as Gaza, two miles from the city of Khan Yunis is currently blockaded by a no fly zone controlled by Israel. Nothing can land or take off.”
“So everything has to come in and go out this way?”
“Pretty much. Though of course there are other border crossings. One is at the other end of the strip known as Ezra and the others are Karni, Kerem Shalom and Sufi, and these are cargo terminals.”
“Are they all as painfully slow as Rafah was?”
“Pretty much. Though of course a lot of it depends on the mood of the border guard on the day. It probably doesn’t help that certain governments have declared the Hamas government as a terrorist organisation.”
“Which governments?” Hutchinson asked, expecting the UK and US to probably be spearheading it. He wasn’t surprised at the answer.
“The US and the UK,” Dennis replied, “The EU, Canada, Japan and of course Israel.”
“Are there any friendly nations?”
“The Arab nations, Iran, Russia and Turkey.”
“And what do you think?”
“I don’t get involved in politics. But I will say I’ve always been treated fairly by Hamas. Remember I lived and worked out here before the coup.”
Hutchinson let his mind drift back to their morning’s events. Crossing from Rafah in Egypt to Rafah in Palestine had been painfully slow. The city was split between the two countries with a no mans land in the centre.
They had arrived at Rafah at 9am when the border had opened. The Egyptians currently controlled the border and only allowed five to seven hundred Palestinians in and out per day. The border was only open on five days of the week. They had entered the small airport style terminal building and had handed over their passports and Egyptian permit letters. It had taken nearly an hour for these to be authenticated. Hutchinson had become frustrated by the delay and got annoyed. Dennis had sat with Natalie with his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, presumably sleeping. Hutchinson got further annoyed at the noisy, smelly, local people around him. One small boy had decided to stand in front of the American archaeologist and stare while he picked his nose and put his fingers in his mouth. Hutchinson looked at the parents who were also staring at him. Finally he could take no more and he shooed the child away. The parents continued to stare.
Finally after another hour and a half their names were called out and Hutchinson jumped to his feet. They joined the queue of pedestrians and got their passports stamped with their Egyptian exit stamps. Once outside they climbed aboard the waiting coach that drove them to the Palestinian side of the Rafah crossing. They had left the coach and entered the building. Hutchinson had stopped at the door to look back as Natalie went on in.
“Congratulations,” Dennis patted him on the back, ”You’ve just left Egypt. Welcome to Palestine.”
“To tell you the truth Pete. It’s a lot scarier than I thought it was going to be. Are we going to be alright? ”
“Trust me. I lived here for four years.”
“Only four?” Hutchinson asked. He couldn’t imagine surviving four weeks.
“Yeah I covered the Gaza war in December 2008.”
“The Gaza war? What was that?”
“It was a three week conflict between Israel and Palestinian militants.”
“What was it about?”
“Palestinian militants were firing rockets into southern Israel and hitting civilian targets. Israel responded with operation ‘cast lead’. They attacked police stations, military targets and also political and administrative institutions. On January 3 2009 Israel began a ground invasion. A UN mission headed by Richard Goldstone accused both sides of crimes against humanity and following international criticism for the growing number of casualties, Israel withdrew on January 21.”
“How many were killed Pete?”
Dennis had covered the story and the figures had shocked him.
“Thirteen Israelis.”
“Is that all? How many Palestinians?”
“Over fourteen hundred.”
A policeman standing nearby overheard their conversation and he now turned and stared in their direction.
“Listen we’d better shut up. No more politics from now on okay. They’re a bit touchy about it.”
“A bit?”
“Very then.”
They caught up to Natalie who was at a table having her luggage searched.
“What were you two talking about over there?” She’d seen the policeman’s scowl.
“Don’t ask.”
Natalie watched as the border guard took a long time in rummaging through her underwear, too long for her liking. She reached towards her personal items but froze as he barked at her in Arabic and shook his head at her.
“What is he looking for?” she asked Dennis.
“Restricted items. Alcohol and pornography mainly.”
“That’s just great isn’t it?” Hutchinson whispered into the journalist’s ear, “We’re being checked by a terrorist organisation. Shouldn’t it be the other way round.”
Dennis rounded on him.
“Jim. From now on you really need to be very careful with what you say. Believe me you don’t want to get arrested for making political statements out here. Your government would be unable to help and you’re making me really nervous.”
Finally the guard finished with Natalie’s hold-all and he grinned at her as she took it back. He jerked his thumb at her towards another table where another customs man waited to ask her routine questions about her visit. She bit her lip at the obscenity th
at she wanted to shout at him and went to the next table. The first guard watching her bottom in her jeans as she walked away. Dennis and Hutchinson were processed in turn and then finally the three of them stepped outside. Their land rover was waiting for them, itself having received a thorough going over. Hutchinson had brought along some cases that had fragile archaeological artefacts on them and he was annoyed to see that they’d been opened also. He checked the contents and then resealed them.
“What are they?” Dennis had asked back in Alexandria before they had left.
“You just never know when they’ll come in handy,” was the reply.
Now the three of them were heading back into the city of Rafah.
“So who is this guy we’re going to see?” Hutchinson asked.
“His name is Khalil Al Massri. He’s a, sort of a friend, kind of an old acqauintance,” Dennis replied.
“And is he the reason you wanted twenty thousand dollars in cash?”
“Yes.”
“And er! What does he do?”
Dennis put an indicator on and pulled the defender to the side of the road.
“He’s a smuggler and arms dealer.”
Hutchinson rolled his eyes and focused on the ceiling.
“I thought so.”
Dennis knew Hutchinson was always touchy on the subject of guns. Natalie was staring at Dennis in the rear view mirror.
“Look we’re going to need to arm ourselves out here. I’ve already said that the fact that we are westerners puts us at risk of kidnapping. Also if we’re right about Von Werner coming here, well, you’ve seen his private army of military contractors, I don’t think we’ll get away with it next time. Remember Naples?”
Dennis knew Hutchinson wouldn’t be happy but to the journalist’s surprise the American said.
“Will he have a good selection?”
Dennis grinned.
“We’ll have to see what he’s got.”
“What do you mean smuggle?” Natalie asked, “Smuggle what?”
“Food mainly. But anything he can get his hands on. Ninety per cent of what you can buy here in shops has been smuggled into Gaza in one form or another.”
“Smuggled from where?”
