Chambers wondered.
Maybe it was the nap he had taken earlier; maybe it was “travel brain,” which afflicted him every time he traveled more than three time zones; maybe it was hearing that some down-on-his-luck student took a bullet in the brain because of a project Chambers was involved with; or maybe it was seeing Nuri and Amber sitting together again. Whatever the reason, Chambers couldn’t sleep. The clock by his bed displayed 1:30 a.m. in blue letters. Just 7:30 in the evening back home.
His eyes were tired. He and Rubin had worked until nearly midnight, digesting the material they could access on Chambers’s tablet. He kicked himself for not asking Ben-Judah for the passkey to use on the symbol, but the man looked too fragile to bother. The murder had unsettled him greatly. Ben-Judah was at heart a very gentle man. He didn’t suffer fools easily or for long, but he’d help any honest person in any way he could.
Chambers rolled over, turning his back to the clock. He had tried all of his tricks to settle an overactive mind. He did math with the numbers on the clock, dividing the minutes by the hours, multiplying all the digits, adding, and subtracting in hopes of boring himself into slumber. He tried to recall the names of characters and the actors who played them in classic television. Having worked through Bonanza, Star Trek (all versions), and The Bob Newhart Show, he gave up.
He left the bed, washed his face, and slipped back into his clothes. A few minutes later, Chambers left his room behind and found the bar in the lobby.
Pop music filtered down from overhead speakers. To his surprise, it was a series of blues songs. New Orleans and Chicago come to Jerusalem, he thought. The bar had a contemporary feel: yellow lights shone from floor fixtures up the face of the long, marble-topped bar and around the two dozen booths spread across the floor. He was not alone. Couples and loners had taken positions at various places. Chambers found an unoccupied booth, sat, raised a hand to gain the barkeep’s attention, and began an alcohol-fueled pity party. He felt fortunate that bars in Jerusalem didn’t have official closing times, except before Shabbat.
He raised his glass as if offering a toast, then brought the glass to his lips. The bourbon burned his throat: consumption-based numbness came with a price. Everything came with a price. Just ask the dead student.
Amber had always been an early riser. It was a family trait and one nurtured by many seasons spent digging in very hot climes. The best digging was done before the sun had time to scorch the cool from the day. When not at a dig site, she often jogged along the streets near her home. She had trouble sleeping. Word of a murder linked to her work had unsettled her soul. An hour of Bible reading and prayer had helped, but she still woke before the sun arrived on scene.
What she really wanted to do was take to the streets of Jerusalem for a long walk, but Landau’s security probably wouldn’t let her through the tall lobby doors. It was to be the workout room this morning. A treadmill was no match for her outdoor-loving spirit, but it beat sitting on the edge of her bed waiting for time to pass.
She exited the elevator, iPod in hand, earbuds in place, and started through the lobby. Last night’s news had made her paranoid. She scanned the open space, taking in the opulence and quiet ambiance. Two men sat on thickly padded sofas. One read a newspaper; the other appeared to be playing a video game on his cell phone. That impression lasted only a moment. Amber hadn’t taken two steps before both men glanced her way. They were dressed like tourists. One wore jeans, while the other wore khaki shorts, revealing some of the hairiest legs she had seen. She wondered why he wasn’t the one wearing the jeans.
One of the files on her tablet PC had been a series of photos of men and women serving on the security detail. She recognized them. The man in the jeans and San Diego Padres T-shirt made eye contact, then directed his gaze to the bar. He stared that direction for several seconds, then returned his attention to the newspaper. She wondered how long he had been pretending to read its pages.
Then the man in the shorts directed his gaze to the bar. Amber got the idea and strolled that direction, intending to just walk by and glance in. David Chambers sat in a booth, head down but body still upright. He swayed to the music filling the space from above.
“Oh David.” She muttered the words, not knowing whether to be angry or disappointed. She marched into the bar and glared at the bartender, who replied with a halfhearted shrug. She moved to the edge of the booth and stood there. Chambers didn’t seem to notice. She cleared her throat. He opened his eyes but appeared to have trouble focusing. “So this is the new David Chambers. A drunk.”
“Well, well, well, look who’s here. Ms. Heartthrob of Jerusalem herself.” The words dribbled from his mouth. “Hey, you look good with earbuds. Nice touch. You should stick with it. Beats earrings.”
“I don’t believe what I’m seeing. I hardly recognize you.”
He picked up his empty glass and raised it two feet above the table. “You know, Dr. Rodgers, this is a bar. I say that since I doubt you’ve ever been in one. You see, people come here to anestiz … anestethiasize …” He worked his lips as if warming up for another go at the word. “Numb themselves against life’s foibles and pains.”
“You know we have a meeting in a few hours, right?” The words had a serrated edge to them, just as planned.
“So?” He set the glass down and looked heartbroken that it was empty.
“So? You’re drunk, David. Drunk as a skunk.”
He chuckled. “Drunk as a skunk. Just what does that mean anyway? I’ve never seen a skunk drunk. I mean a drunk skunk. Have you?”
“Not until now.”
“Wait. I see what you did there. You turned my comment around on me so that it would be an insult. You are one clever gal, Dr. Rodgers.”
“I repeat: you’re drunk.”
“And you’re ugly, but in the morning, I’ll be sober and you’ll still be ugly.” He laughed at his version of the quote.
“I’m not Lady Astor, and you’re not Winston Churchill. It was funny when he said it. It’s just pathetic coming from you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You know I think you’re beautiful. Always have.” He picked up his glass and held it out to her. “You don’t mind getting me another drink do you? The bartender knows what I want.”
“It’s just a little after four in the morning.”
“It’s the beauty of being in Jerusalem: no last call.”
Amber took the glass and stepped to the bar. She returned a moment later, the glass filled with fluid. Chambers narrowed his eyes. “I switched to Scotch. That’s clear. What is it? Vodka?”
“No, but it is what you need.” With a flick of the wrist, Amber flung the fluid in Chambers’s face. “It’s ice water, David.”
He sputtered and wiped his eyes. “What are you doing!”
“Would you like another drink?”
“That was … was …”
“Uncalled for?”
“Yes. Uncalled for.”
“Perhaps, but it was necessary. Let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Amber placed her hands on the table. It wobbled slightly. “You walk out of here with me right now, or I’ll drag you out.”
“I doubt you can.”
“Do you really want to find out?” She prayed he wouldn’t.
“Fine. I was done anyway.” He inched out of the booth, stood quickly, then teetered like a tree that’s just been cut by a logger. “Whoa. The floor is moving.”
“Here, let me help.” She took him by the arm and squeezed. “Better?”
“Ow. Not so hard.”
She directed him to the exit. “You should see what I really want to do to you.”
“Is that a come-on?” His grin was lecherous. “Ow. You’re doing it again.”
“I’ve got lots more where that came from.”
She marched him from the bar, into the lobby, and toward the bank of elevators. “Really, David. I should have left you there for Landau or Ben-Judah to find.”<
br />
“So what if they did? I’m an adult.”
“Are you? I’m having trouble seeing that lately.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“I can’t believe I almost married you.”
“You had your chance. Of course, I might consider a new offer.”
She stopped in the middle of the lobby, not caring that the two security men were watching and listening. “That opportunity.” She hesitated, her voice growing softer. “That opportunity died when you walked away from the Truth. I’m using a capital T with that word, David. I don’t just mean the truth about us, I mean the Truth about faith in Christ.”
“Jesus did nothing for my mother; He certainly didn’t change my father’s heart … not in any way I could see.” He pulled his arm free. “I don’t need you to tell me what is true and not true.”
Before she could reply, he staggered away.
“Please don’t walk away from me, David—”
A hand touched her on the shoulder. The man in the jeans and Padres shirt was at her side. “I’ll make sure he gets to his room, Dr. Rodgers. We don’t need a scene here in the lobby.”
Tears began to run. “I suppose you’re right.”
The security man was already on Chambers’s heels.
TWELVE
David Chambers was alone again and sitting on the balcony outside his room. Next to him was a coffee cup with the dregs of his fifth cup. On his lap rested the tablet PC, but he was having trouble concentrating on the presentation he was to give. He nibbled on another piece of toast. The security man Amber had sicced on him had left an hour ago. Thirty minutes later a man from room service arrived with a cart upon which rested a plate of fried eggs, potatoes, and fruit. The hotel waiter started into the room, but Chambers, not ready to face a meal even after twenty minutes in a hot shower, stopped him.
“I didn’t order this.”
“Yes sir. I know, sir.” He pushed into the room, the cart in front of him. “Your friend did. He said you might object but that I was to leave the food anyway.” The man was short and dark-skinned and sported a thin beard.
“Well, I don’t want it.” He saw the carafe and assumed it held coffee. The caffeine might round the points of the spiked ball rolling inside his head.
“The man said I was to leave it no matter what.”
“This is my room. I decide what you leave and what you don’t.”
“Yes sir. You’re absolutely right, sir. Shall I put the cart on the balcony? It’s early but the morning is warm.”
“You’re going to leave that no matter what I say, aren’t you.”
“Yes sir.”
“And if I call the hotel manager?”
“He’s expecting your call. He told me to tell you that you may call at any time.”
“So my friend really frightened you, didn’t he?”
“Yes sir. He also tips very well.”
Chambers rubbed the back of his aching neck. “Well, don’t expect a tip from me.”
“I understand fully, sir.” He wheeled the cart to the balcony and set the meal on the small table. He then poured a cup of coffee, which Chambers drank in three gulps.
“More.”
“Yes sir.” Three minutes later, the employee was gone.
The sight of food turned his stomach, but that changed after his first bite of fruit. Also on the table was a plate of sweet pastries. Before long, Chambers had finished the meal, having eaten more in that one sitting than he had the entire day before. It took another half hour and four tablets of pain reliever to halt the wrecking ball in his skull.
The sun had crawled over the distant hills and bathed Jerusalem in the golden light of a new day. Sunlight fell on ancient walls and modern buildings; it warmed Jews, Muslims, and Christians without discrimination. A dozen floors below, the timeless city came to life. Old blended seamlessly with the new. Where once donkey-drawn carts plied the streets, modern cars and buses moved through all but the narrowest streets. Dimming street and building lights cast golden rays on buildings and walkways. A small group of soldiers wearing green uniforms and darker green vests patrolled a short distance away. A bearded man dressed all in black walked through the street, perhaps on his way to pray.
David loved this city, despite the crowds, the occasional violence, and the hordes of tourists. His bitterness began to wane. Here King David once walked, as did his son Solomon. Good and bad kings followed in their wake. Two thousand years ago, Roman soldiers monitored the streets, pressing their will on others with short sword, knife, and javelin. Here Essenes shared space with the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Herodians. Roman women of means, dressed in their finery, crossed paths with simple Jewish women dressed in robes, headdresses, and scarves.
Archaeologists, Chambers realized early in his training, were time travelers without machines. They were transported to the past one layer of dust at a time, one potsherd at a time. The real time travel took place in the mind. With a brain that still ached, Chambers had no trouble seeing the city transform, back through the ages, to a time when the streets were choked with people wanting to be near Jesus. This was the city where His fans later called for His crucifixion. Here the newly formed church came to be. Not far from here, Jesus ascended into heaven.
Back and back, through occupations, wars, and times of peace, to the first temple and back further still to a time before the temple was made of stone and cedar, back to a day when the tabernacle was the place of worship.
Countless battles had been fought for this land, and the blood of tens of thousands stained the soil. Here the Romans destroyed the second temple, looting what riches had not been removed prior to the rebellion. Here and in Galilee, the Romans killed well over one million Jews, a pogrom hard to imagine even two millennia later. He could see the ancient city, hear the cries of men, women, and children being slain by the brutal Romans. He could hear the invaders’ curses, see the smoke that darkened the sky. Brutality. Pain. Torture. The sound of Hebrews calling for deliverance from HaShem—even in the moments of death unwilling to call God by His name or title. To the contemporary mind, God was God, but to the Jews of ancient Jerusalem, He was HaShem, “the Name.”
They died.
They died by the tens of thousands.
Yet, two thousand years later, they were back in their city. Living, procreating, rearing the next generation of Jews. He admired them. As a people, they faced the worst that humanity could inflict on others and survived to be a nation again.
All of it was history now, but a history that left its fingerprints in the strata. The most important events in the world happened in and around this city. That was what had captured his attention as a youth and what drove him for years.
He looked at the tablet PC. In a short time, he would discuss what he knew with the others. From there, a new adventure would begin. He thought of his behavior last night—well, just a few hours ago—and felt shame.
Chambers emerged from the elevator to find Rubin waiting for him. The young man looked concerned. Word must have spread about Chambers’s descent into intoxication. It didn’t matter. Chambers understood that no matter how much someone studied the past, he couldn’t change it. That went for his recent past as well.
“Good morning, Dr. Rubin.”
The younger man looked surprised. “Um, good morning, Dr. Chambers. Are you—”
“Ready? Of course, I’m ready. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just that … Never mind.” Rubin fell in step with Chambers, who marched like a man on a mission. “I don’t suppose you asked Ben-Judah about the Ring of Solomon symbol in your tablet?”
Chambers shook his head. “I didn’t have the heart. News of the murder seemed to undo him. Besides, I have a feeling he’ll tell us when he’s ready.”
“The suspense is killing me.”
“You’ll live.”
Chambers walked through the lobby to a wide corridor that ran through the west wing of the hotel. As he did, he caught sight o
f the security man who had helped him to his room. Chambers started to cut his eyes away but then decided to do something else instead. He smiled and saluted. The man frowned. For some reason, that made Chambers feel good.
The conference room was just large enough for a long table and a dozen chairs. As he entered, he saw the rest of the team waiting for him. He was three minutes early, so they had no room to complain. His eyes met those of Amber. He grinned and winked. The act seemed to stun her. Expecting a drooling drunk, eh? He mouthed the words, “Thank you.” She gave a slight nod. He didn’t notice if Nuri caught the silent communications, and he didn’t care if he did.
Chambers and Rubin took two chairs near the head of the table. As before, Ben-Judah sat in a chair immediately to the right of the one at the head of the table. John Trent filled that space like a medieval king on a throne. Ben-Judah looked drawn, a half-empty balloon. Chambers was not the only one in the room who had slept poorly.
Ben-Judah rose and took the time to look at each person in the room. He forced a smile. “Thank you for coming and being so prompt.” He glanced at Chambers but didn’t linger. “I am aware that I have gathered some of the finest minds in archaeology to this project. As I mentioned yesterday, I am able to do so because of the great generosity of Mr. Trent.”
Trent raised a dismissive hand as if he poured tens of millions into such projects on a daily basis.
Ben-Judah nodded in response. “This morning, I want us to spend a few moments making sure we are all on the same page, as they say. I also believe this will be beneficial to Mr. Landau and Dr. Rubin, who is aiding David. I will assign assistance to you, Nuri, and you, Amber, later in the day.”
He paused for a few moments, as if his next words tasted bad in his mouth. “Mr. Landau, has there been progress on the murder of the student—Herman Rosenthal?”
The Scroll Page 10
