“I’m not very good at playing cops and robbers. Come in, but don’t get comfortable. I plan to send you packing.” Rubin didn’t budge. “What now?”
Rubin just stared.
“Oh, all right. What’s the password?”
“Shibboleth.”
“You got it right. You even pronounced it correctly, which is pretty good for what? An Irishman?”
“You don’t like the Irish?”
“I was referring to your accent.”
“Odd, I thought you were the one with the accent.” Rubin stepped in.
“Do you talk that way to Professor Ben-Judah?”
“No sir. I like what I do and want to keep doing it.”
Ben-Judah had two reputations. If you were his peer, then he was respectful, gentle, and polite. If you were a grad student, he’d grind you to dust with work. One had to earn the old man’s respect, but once you had it, you also had a friend for life. Chambers was glad to be on the peer side.
“Have a seat.” Chambers motioned to the sofa.
“Thank you.”
“How long have you been in this country?” Chambers looked for a clock. He had no idea how long he had been asleep.
“This is my third year. I finish my dissertation, then I’ll be done.” He paused. “Dinner is in two hours. It’s four o’clock now.”
“I’m that transparent?”
“Sleepy eyes, disheveled, no watch. I took a guess.”
“I see why Ben-Judah likes you.”
“Sometimes I think he hates me.”
Chambers chortled. “He tortures the ones he loves. If he didn’t like you, he’d ignore you.”
“Good to know. I think.”
Chambers sat in a plush, leather chair across from the sofa, then ran a hand through the hair Rubin called disheveled. “Okay, so tell me again why you’re here.”
“I’m your new assistant, as I said.”
“And as I said, I don’t need or want an assistant.”
Rubin frowned. “Dr. Chambers, you heard me say Professor Ben-Judah sent me.”
“I don’t care.”
“I care. The professor cares.”
“He’ll understand. We go way back.”
Rubin set his tablet down and crossed his legs. “I was told to say John Trent cares.”
Chambers rubbed his face, exasperated. “Okay, okay, but I don’t want you in my way.”
“My job is to help you do your job.”
“And what qualifies you to do that, Joel—you said your name was Joel, right?”
He nodded once. “Joel Rubin. Dr. Joel Rubin.”
“Wait. You said you were still working on your dissertation. You don’t get to use the title until you earn it.”
For the first time, Rubin smiled. “I have a doctorate in geography. I’m working on my second terminal degree.”
“You didn’t like geography?”
“I love it, but I have many interests. I became interested in archaeology while studying the changes in the Jordan River and the impact it had on the political history of the region. As you know, the Jordan has been changed a great deal over the last few decades. There’s the Al Wahda Dam, Ziglab Dam, the King Abdullah Canal, all of which have changed the river.”
Chambers was starting to like Rubin. He was sharp, conversant, intelligent, and apparently impossible to intimidate.
“Since I can’t throw you out without offending an old friend and a billionaire, I suppose we should do a little work. What do you know of our work?”
“Not a great deal, Dr. Chambers. I know that the work permits have been expedited and that some people very high up in Israel’s government are making the path straight, as it were. I also know that you have a presentation to give tomorrow, as does Dr. Aumann.”
“What do you know of my work?”
“I’ve read everything you’ve published.”
“That’s nice.” Chambers felt a moment of pride.
“Professor Ben-Judah made me read everything.” Rubin waited a few moments before defusing his statement with a crooked grin. “I had already read your material.”
“Is this how it’s going to be, Joel? You cracking wise about important matters like, well, me?”
“Yes sir. I’m afraid I’m incorrigible. My own mother says so.”
“And I’m annoying on many levels. Just ask the others.”
Rubin picked up his tablet PC. “We should make a good team.”
“If we don’t spontaneously combust first.” Chambers rose and retrieved his computer, then returned to his seat. “Do you know anything about the Copper Scroll?”
“I do.”
“Let’s hear it.”
For the next half hour, Chambers quizzed Rubin, who had answers to every question. At least Ben-Judah didn’t send an average student. Rubin just might turn out to be an asset. He hoped so. He’d hate to offend his friend by sending back his choice disciple.
Time passed unnoticed by Chambers. Once his mind was fixed on a project he lost track of the clock. Many times he had said to himself and others, “Time is irrelevant.”
First, Chambers reviewed the material he had been given. The tablet PC held maps, current and ancient, of Jerusalem and the surrounding region. It held numerous articles on first-century topography and articles by biblical archaeologists. The theme was easy to determine. All the journal clippings dealt with the Copper Scroll and other literature pertaining to the Essenes and the second temple period, primarily King Herod’s time. Little of it was new to Chambers. His own articles and relevant chapters from his books were included.
He then tried to access a hidden set of files. They were listed by number, not title. Whenever he tried to access one, a photorealistic image of a clay seal appeared, a seal like those used in ancient times to show if a scroll had been opened. It bore the alleged pictogram of King Solomon: a star with six points set in a circle.
“An odd choice,” Chambers said. “Do you know what this image is?”
Rubin nodded. “It’s a stylized version of the supposed ring of Solomon. Two interlocking triangles in a circle with a raised dot in each space formed by the circle and star.”
“Odd choice of iconography.” Chambers tilted his head as he studied the image. “It’s a mythical symbol. Everyone and their neighbor has adopted something like it. I’ve seen it as the basis for Christian, Muslim, and Jewish symbology. I’ve even seen it adopted by practitioners of the occult.”
“That’s to be expected, since the legend says it gave Solomon power over demons.”
“Or genies, if you like Arabic literature.”
“Somehow, I don’t think Professor Ben-Judah has that in mind here.”
Chambers had to agree. While there were many nonpracticing Jews in the land, Ben-Judah wasn’t one of them. He was a man as comfortable with phylacteries and prayer as with dusty artifacts and detailed journal articles. It was one of the things Chambers admired about him. Science and faith were partners in his mind, never enemies.
“So why can’t we get past the symbol.” Chambers tapped the image again. It responded by growing larger for a moment, then returning to its original state. “Wait a second.” He touched the screen, tapping the top of the star. It lit up. He touched another part of the star, and the first point dimmed. “It’s a key. A type of password. I think we have to tap different points of the image in the correct order to get in.”
“That could take awhile. I count eighteen points of connections—assuming those are the only touch sensitive areas.”
Chambers watched Rubin activate the calculator on the computer.
Rubin talked as he worked. “If I do a little combinations and permutations math … Let’s see, eighteen possible choices; assume we have to make eighteen right choices in the right order, then …”
“Then what?”
“Then we spend the rest of our lives punching the screen. There are 4×1022 possible permutations, assuming order matters.” He looked at Chambers. “We don’t hav
e enough seconds in our lives to pull that off. I recommend we ask someone.”
“I’m with you there—”
Another knock on the door. Chambers glanced at the monitor and saw Landau standing at the door, his hands clasped behind his back as if standing at ease in a military lineup.
“He looks serious,” Rubin said.
“I think he was born with that look.” Chambers went to the door and opened it. “Should I ask you for the password, even though I already know who you are?”
“Good evening, Dr. Chambers. Your presence is requested at dinner tonight.”
“Well, thank you, Jeeves, but I was just going to order up some room service. Before you object, I remind you that you gave us that option.”
“I did. Now I’m rescinding it.”
“Nonetheless, I think I’ll dine in today.”
Landau looked down for a moment. When he raised his gaze, his eyes had turned to flint. “Dr. Chambers, there’s been an incident, and I need the team in one place so I don’t have to repeat the info.”
“Send a memo. I’m busy.” Chambers began to close the door when he heard a loud thud followed by the sound of the door hitting the wall. Landau was in the room, his face inches from Chambers. “What the—”
“I asked; now I’m telling you. You’re coming downstairs, and we’re leaving now.” He looked at Rubin. “You too.”
Rubin was on his feet in an instant, his face pale and his eyes wide.
Chambers had had enough. “Look, if you think you can just barge in here …” The anger on Landau’s face kept Chambers from finishing the sentence.
“Would you like to arrive at dinner conscious or unconscious?”
“Man, you weren’t kidding when you said you had no sense of humor.” Chambers exited the room, trying to keep Landau from seeing how much he had frightened him. For a moment, Chambers thought of fleeing, but he had no idea where to go. Besides, he was pretty sure Landau would crack-back tackle him before he had taken five steps.
David Chambers walked quietly to the elevators.
ELEVEN
Dead? What do you mean by dead?”
Chambers struggled to make sense of the announcement.
“Really, David?” Nuri said. “Must Mr. Landau explain the word dead to an archaeologist?”
“What I mean is, how did he die?” Chambers sat next to Ben-Judah, who had been waiting in the rented meeting room when Chambers and Rubin arrived. Amber and Nuri had already taken their places at the table. Plates, water glasses, and coffee cups decorated the cloth-covered table. Landau explained that it wouldn’t do to announce the death of a college student in a crowded hotel restaurant, so he had arranged for private dining.
Landau didn’t pause. “He was shot in the left temple, small caliber, no exit wound. It was a professional assassination.”
“That’s horrible.”
Amber raised a hand to her mouth. Nuri laid a hand on her shoulder. The sight of it turned Chambers’s stomach. He looked to Ben-Judah who stared into the distance, face pale, gazing at what only he could see.
“And you say he was a student?” Rubin looked shell-shocked. “May I ask his name?”
Landau remained standing, hunched forward just enough that he could rest his fingertips on the table. “Herman Rosenthal. He was a medical student, second year. Do you know him?”
Rubin shook his head. “No, but I didn’t hang with the medical guys. Different worlds.”
“Okay, this is sad,” Chambers said. “I mean that, but murder is not new, certainly not in this country. What does this have to do with us?”
“Several things.” Landau walked away from the table. A waiter stepped in, but Landau waved him off, holding up a hand with fingers extended. Chambers assumed he was asking for five minutes more of privacy. “One, the murder takes place on the same day that we meet. That may mean nothing, but it can’t be overlooked. Next, his body is found in the parking lot near the Institute’s building.”
“Still, that is far from conclusive,” Chambers said.
“Agreed, but we did some checking. Young Mr. Rosenthal was broke. The police, and some of my team, interviewed people who knew him. He was always looking for ways to make money for books and his tuition. He comes from a lower-middle-class family that has had some financial trouble. It appears Rosenthal was on his own for the rest of his education.”
“Sounds like a dozen students I know,” Rubin said.
“No doubt, but Rosenthal had thirty-five-hundred shekels on his person.”
“That’s about a thousand US dollars,” Amber said.
“Correct. Somehow he found a way to line his wallet. It’s not a lot of money, but to a starving student, it might prove to be tempting. Especially if he did what we think he did.”
“Which is what?” Nuri moved his chair back from the table, as if putting distance between him and the horrible news being shared.
Landau lowered his head for a moment. “Before you arrived, before the meeting in the Institute, we did an electronic sweep of the conference room and nearby rooms. We found nothing. After Rosenthal’s body was found, we did another sweep, inside and out. We’re paranoid that way. Again, no devices, but we did find a small glue mark on the outside of the window between the plaza and the conference room.”
“A glue mark?” Chambers didn’t understand.
“It’s a special glue. Think rubber glue that holds something in place but doesn’t set.”
Amber looked puzzled. “Someone glued something to the window?”
“And removed it later. The mark is about the size of a small coin. There’s a very good chance that someone attached a remote listening device to the window.”
“They can listen through the window?” Amber said.
“It reads the vibration of the window. For years, people in the intelligence business used a device that measured the minute vibrations in a window caused by voices inside. Certain government offices come equipped with speakers that play music at the window to mask any conversation going on inside. That system, however, requires a laser system. That would have been seen too easily.
“There’s a different, more subtle device that vibrates with the window and sends the message to a nearby receiver. Its range is extremely limited, but someone within twenty meters or so should be able to receive the signal, then pass it along through a larger transmitter.”
“I saw him.” Ben-Judah whispered.
“You saw whom?” Chambers snapped his head around.
“The young man. The student. Rosenthal. I saw him when I was lowering the shades in the conference room so we could have some privacy. He was walking by. At least, I thought he was walking by. There were many students on the plaza this morning. I see them every day. I give it no thought.” He set his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hand. To Chambers he looked like a man who had just lost everything.
“Excuse me, Professor.” Amber spoke in a soft, motherly tone. “If you haven’t met Rosenthal before, then how do you know it was him you saw?”
He didn’t speak; he just shook his head.
Landau answered for the elderly man. “I showed him a picture taken at the scene. I’m afraid it wasn’t a pleasant photo. It took the professor a moment, but he realized Rosenthal had been in the courtyard.”
“I had no idea. How could I know?” Ben-Judah covered his face, and Chambers expected to hear sobbing any moment. It never came.
“You couldn’t know, Professor.” Chambers tried to sound firm yet comforting. “There are hundreds of students at the university and around the Institute’s building. One student walking by wouldn’t alert anyone. You did nothing wrong.”
The others voiced their agreement.
“Best guess at this point,” Landau said, “is that someone retained Rosenthal to walk to the window and stick the listening device on the glass. Somewhere nearby another person recorded the conversation on a laptop computer. Every student has a laptop these days. No one wou
ld notice someone sitting on a bench nearby gazing at a computer.” He paused for a moment. “We checked the security cameras. Rosenthal did approach the window a few moments after the professor lowered the shades. He reached to the area where we found the glue mark. The device was too small for the security camera to pick up, but we’re having the footage enhanced to see if we can identify it.”
“Does that really matter now?” Nuri asked.
Landau frowned. “No, not really. If we can identify the device, we might be able to track down people who purchased it, but I doubt that will lead anywhere. Anyone who would go this far to listen in on your conversation probably took precautions to conceal the purchase. If it’s a government, a terrorist group, or a foreign spy agency, we’ll never be able to track the purchase. Still, we will follow every lead.”
Amber inhaled deeply. “I’m afraid to ask, but why would someone kill Rosenthal if he did what he was hired to do?”
“I can’t be certain at the moment, but Rosenthal must have had face-to-face contact with an operative. He had to be recruited, so he had a conversation with someone. That would make him a danger. There may be other reasons. What I can’t figure out is why they left the money. Amateurish. The killer should have taken the wallet to make it look like a robbery. Perhaps he was interrupted. We just don’t know.”
“Okay,” Chambers said, “where does this leave us? We know someone is willing to kill to get at what we’re doing. Why? The Copper Scroll treasures? I suppose that would be high motivation.”
“We have enemies,” Ben-Judah said. “Many, many enemies.”
“They couldn’t have learned much.” Amber wrapped her arms around herself as if cold. “We spoke in generalities. John Trent became poetic toward the end, talking about changing the world, but he never gave details.”
“First rule in the intel business is this: always assume the enemy is a step ahead of you.”
“So what do we do now?” Nuri asked.
“Our security here is already in place and every base is covered. You will not be returning to the Institute. Tomorrow’s meeting will be held in the hotel. I’ve reserved five of the conference rooms. When the time comes, I’ll lead each of you to the right one. They can’t bug every conference room. Of course, we’ll make a sweep of the room and surrounding areas. I’ll also post a man outside the windows. I will make sure we have a jamming device operating as well. No one fools me twice.”
The Scroll Page 9
