She waited and no one spoke.
Chambers felt a sense of pride. The woman had courage. Not many people would speak to power and wealth that way. “She has a point,” he said. “What exactly do you want us to do?”
Trent looked at Landau. “You’re confident?”
“High confidence, sir,” the security man said. “I swept the room myself, then had my best tech do it again. I have people in and all around the building. It’s safe.”
Trent inhaled deeply, then spoke: “We are going to find the temple artifacts.”
Chambers said nothing. He knew this from the beginning. Now everyone knew it.
FOURTEEN
The three weeks that had passed had changed several things, including Chambers’s attitude. Work had always been his drug of choice. While he enjoyed teaching, nothing invigorated him like poring over documents, planning a dig, and moving dirt.
Ben-Judah headed the team but delegated most of the authority to others. He handled the administration and paperwork, communicated with local and national leaders, and smoothed feathers at the Institute of Archaeology and Israel Antiquities Authority. He also was the go-to guy with the media. Fortunately, there had been very little need for that last skill; at least not yet. That would change in the days ahead. This much activity could not go on in such a small country without someone noticing. David was impressed with his mentor’s smooth handling of operations. He did so with humor, aplomb, finesse, and more circumlocution than an American politician.
David Chambers supervised and directed all fieldwork, making him the team leader, something that made Nuri even more unpleasant to be around. Still, to Chambers’s amazement, the man went about his work with purpose and dedication to detail. As promised, Ben-Judah had appointed an aide for him. Nuri protested, saying he preferred to work alone, but Ben-Judah quietly insisted. Nuri’s tune changed when he learned the aid had several hundred hours working ground-penetrating radar and other such equipment. Soon the two appeared to be old friends.
Amber coordinated documentation, making certain that all artifacts, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant, were logged, photographed, and stored for future study. She excelled at the task and enjoyed having access to the half-dozen digs going on simultaneously, which kept her in the forefront of all the activity. The conversation between Chambers and his former love had warmed to polite civility but nothing more. She kept him at arm’s length, while best he could tell, allowing Nuri in a little closer. He still didn’t understand their relationship and told himself he didn’t care.
Landau, whom Chambers considered paranoid to begin with, had grown even more suspicious. He had asked for more people and technology and received both. No one got close to Ben-Judah or any of the team without first being cleared by Landau. The death of the student and the evidence indicating someone had been spying on the team ate at Landau’s stomach, a fact he admitted in a rare personal moment while he and Chambers shared coffee late one night in the hotel bar. Once the dig had begun, Chambers confined his fluid consumption to tongue-curling strong coffee, vitamin water in the field, and soda in the evening. He decided he would not embarrass himself or the team again no matter how often temptation came, and it came often.
“So how long have you been working on this?” The question came from a young man with a shaved face and brown hair, bleached at the ends, giving his head a two-tone look. His eyes were blue, bright, and always on the move, an asset for a photographer.
Chambers turned from the papers, printouts, photos, and other information tacked to the wall of the Institute’s conference room. This room, unlike the one where the team had first met, was big enough to hold only a dozen people. It was situated at the back of the building and had no windows. Landau’s caution had struck again.
“Working on what? The dig?” Chambers looked back at the paper-covered walls. Some of the documents, drawings, and photos were covered with thick paper to keep unwanted eyes and cameras from seeing what should remain secret.
“The Copper Scroll thing.” Edward Cove was the choice of National Geographic, which along with other magazines, had bid for the opportunity to be the onsite photojournalist. Such things weren’t done in scientific endeavors, but John Trent didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t a scientist, but he had what every research needed: money. A great deal of scientific protocol could be overlooked if the money pile was high enough.
David grinned at the “Copper Scroll thing” remark. “I first translated the scroll as an undergrad student, then did it again as a grad student at Harvard. Back then it was a lark.”
The photographer chuckled. “Only an archaeologist would think translating a two-thousand-year-old scroll was a lark. When I was in college, drinking beer was our lark.”
“I know the type.”
Cove cocked his head. “That sounded like resentment.”
“I was one of those students who did nothing but study. If I felt like doing something wild, I’d sit at a different table in the library.”
“Wow, you were a party animal.”
“It served me well. Things change as we go through life.”
Chambers liked Cove. He was a straight shooter with his opinions as well as his camera. The man’s dossier arrived before he did, and it had a long list of awards and photo assignments that had taken him around the world several times. The sample photos were powerful and at times emotionally moving. The man knew how to put a face on the best and worst the world had to offer.
“Such as?”
“Let’s stick to the business at hand, shall we?”
Cove shrugged. “Sure thing, chief. So you translated the scroll in school?”
“Technically, I translated from photos of the scroll. The original is in Amman, Jordan. I’ve seen it several times, but the museum is reluctant to release such a precious object into the hands of an American archaeologist.”
“Why is it in Jordan? It’s a Jewish document, right?”
“Jordan controlled the area in 1952 when the scroll was discovered. That gave them control of the object. You might have noticed that Jordanians and Israeli officials aren’t prone to sharing with each other.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that my first time in the country. That was ten years ago. Do you think it will be different ten years from now?”
“Not a chance. A decade is just a blink in tensions that go back centuries. It doesn’t matter. At least not now. Over the decades, many photos have been taken, and artists have rendered the writing on paper. It’s a tough thing to translate.”
“Why is that?”
“Didn’t they brief you before they gave you this assignment?”
Cove nodded. “Of course, and I did some research on my own, but to be honest, I flew here from Ethiopia where I was doing a video shoot, so my study time has been less than I prefer. Besides, I prefer to hear from the experts I deal with. It’s more interesting that way. Mr. Trent said you’d school me.”
“Those were his words?” Chambers leaned against the wall and stared at the seated man. He was thin and wore a khaki photographer’s vest. That and the tan hat made Cove look like a poster boy for photojournalists.
“Well, not exactly. He was a little more formal. And remember, I’ve signed an NDA. Trent made it part of the deal.”
“That would be our benefactor. We’ve all signed nondisclosure agreements. Okay, here are a few things you may not know about the scroll. First thing: it’s still highly debated. Some think it’s a fantasy, a list of treasures that don’t exist.”
“But you don’t agree with that.”
Chambers walked to the end of the wall where a computer-generated rendition of the scroll hung. “Not for a moment. Look, I can understand why other scholars think that. After all, the content is a long list of treasures written in twelve columns; treasures that would amount to a billion dollars or more. Actually, when you factor in the archaeological and historical value, it’s worth much more.”
A flash of light mad
e Chambers turn. Cove was holding his digital SLR camera to his eye. He lowered it. “Sorry. Just a background photo. That’s the beauty of digital photos: I can take as many shots as I want and delete what I don’t like.”
“You could warn me.”
“No way, Dr. Chambers. Then you’d want to pose. I prefer natural shots.” He set the camera down. “You were saying?”
“I was saying 3Q15—the official reference to the Copper Scroll—is a list of treasures scattered around the country, probably close to Jerusalem. Second thing to know: the language is not the literary Hebrew used in the parchment and papyrus Dead Sea Scrolls. No one is sure why, although I suspect that it was copied from an older document. The orthography, paleography—”
“It’s what?”
“Sorry. Orthography is the study of spelling. Experts in orthography date a manuscript by its use of words and revealing spelling choices. Spelling changes as culture changes.”
“Really? How?”
Chambers thought for a moment. “Okay, let’s try this: what’s a cupboard?”
“It’s a place to store cups.”
“Right. Spell it.”
Cove did. “What’s that prove?”
“It proves you can spell. It also proves that you, like everyone else, use words without thinking about their origins. Cupboard is a compound word, meaning it is a single word that started off as two or more words. A cupboard is a cup-board, a board for cups.”
Cove raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize that.”
“It’s called a closed spelling. What’s a necklace?”
Cove didn’t miss a beat. “Lace for the neck.”
“Exactly. There are hundreds of compound words in English. Those who study such things can look at an old document, look at the spelling, and make a good guess as to the time it was written. Ever see the Declaration of Independence with its original spelling?”
“Yeah.”
“Many of the words look strange to us because American English has changed over the last couple of centuries.”
“So if I read a document that spells colour with a ‘u,’ then I know it’s British English.”
“That’s similar to what an orthographic specialist does, but he or she does it in much greater detail. Add to that the work of paleographers, who study the forms, uses, and shapes of letters, and we get a good idea of when the scroll was written.”
“Which is around the time of Christ?”
“Yes. The writing is similar to Mishnaic Hebrew—the kind of Hebrew used in recording the Jewish oral traditions, called the Mishnah.” Chambers pointed at the long paper image of the Copper Scroll. “There are some intriguing anomalies.”
“Other than the fact that it was written on a copper sheet.”
“Now you bring up something interesting. You’re right that the writing was chiseled into copper, making impressions into the soft metal. That must have taken a great deal of effort. Why go to that trouble?”
“You’re asking me? I’m just a camera jockey.”
“You’re a logical man. Guess.”
“Okay. Let’s see, the other scrolls are parchment or papyrus. Papyrus is paper made from plant material; parchment is made from animal skin. Do I have that right?”
“Yes. Papyrus is made from a reed. We get our word Bible from the ancient city of Byblos, where papyrus was made. Bible refers to a book written on papyrus. Later it took on a greater meaning. Parchment is made from animal skin: lamb, calf, goat. Under the right conditions, it can last a very long time.”
“But copper lasts longer.”
“That’s right. The copper itself is interesting. It’s a very soft, almost pure copper. The ancients used to mix tin with copper to make bronze. That was a later development which makes some think the scroll is older than it is.”
“Why would anyone use a softer metal?”
Chambers shrugged. “Impossible to say. Most likely it was so they could roll it like a scroll. Maybe that’s what the Essenes had on hand.”
“The authors and keepers of the scrolls?”
Chambers gave a nod. “They were a strict religious community that lived in and around Jerusalem. It’s because of them that we have the Dead Sea Scrolls.”
Cove rose and walked around the battered table to the long image of the scroll posted on the wall. “I’m no expert, but aren’t those Greek letters?”
“You have a good eye. Seven of the location names are followed by two, sometimes three Greek letters. No one knows why. Why just seven listings out of sixty-four? There’s something else. The scribe wasn’t all that good.”
Cove looked puzzled. “Isn’t this an important document? I mean, they chose a difficult and probably costly way to make a shopping list of treasure. Why use a lousy scribe?” He paused, then, “And what do you mean by ‘not all that good.’ ”
“I mean he was probably illiterate.” Chambers let that sink into Cove’s brain.
“Why would a group of literate men chose an illiterate man to record something so valuable … oh.”
“Got it?” Chambers crossed his arms.
“I think so. Give me a sec. Let me see if I can get this.” Cove began to pace the room. He picked up his camera but didn’t aim it. Chambers guessed the camera was an extension of the man. He wouldn’t be surprised if the guy slept with it on his pillow. The photographer moved around the room with his head down as if searching for the answer in the carpet.
When Cove stopped and pivoted to face him, Chambers could see the idea flash in the man’s eyes. “What better way to keep a secret than have a man who can’t read record your list of treasure?”
“Very good, Mr. Cove. You see, some of the words—about thirty such cases—are misspelled in a way no natural Hebrew reader would misspell them.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Okay, you grew up speaking English. Your home is where?”
“Born in Detroit. I live in Austin now.”
“Okay, so in Detroit you learned your English from your parents and from school. You know the difference between a Q and an O even though they’re very similar, just a small pen stroke difference. Still no matter how similar they are in appearance, you’d never confuse them. You just can’t substitute a Q for an O and have a valid word. There’s no way you’d write IRAO when you mean IRAQ. One is a valid word; the other is not. But what happens if you don’t know the English alphabet? A smudged O might look like a Q or vice versa, but the word would tell you everything you need to know. We could make the same argument about a P and an R.”
“So they hired … what, an illiterate metal smith?”
“That’s what I think. They might have given him the list written on parchment and, for security reasons, stayed and watched the work he did, never leaving the original scroll alone. The metal smith might be able to reproduce the letters, but he couldn’t read them.”
“Why would they leave mistakes?”
“You can’t erase a copper sheet. Make a mistake halfway through the process, and it’s too late to start over.” Chambers leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Before he could object, Cove took another photo. “You know I’m camera shy, right?”
“I’ll cure you of that soon enough.”
“We’ll see.” He waited for a response but didn’t get one.
“So they use a man who can’t read so he won’t dig up the treasures himself?”
“Or tell anyone else. The most the copyist could do is try to remember what he had done. I doubt he could recall much. There’s even a chance that Hebrew was a foreign language to him. Of course, there’s no reason to believe that he had any idea what it was he was making.”
“Sounds like a conspiracy theory.”
“Some conspiracy theories have truth behind them. Those were turbulent, violent days. There’s a reason the Essenes preserved and hid the Dead Sea Scrolls. They knew Rome would not tolerate a Jewish rebellion. Rebellion came, and Rome did what it did best: it killed people by the
thousands.”
“So they hid treasure as well as the scrolls?”
Chambers nodded. “Or at very least, knew where others hid them. Your comment about conspiracy theories fits nicely. In fact, it brings up one of the problems we face.”
“Let me guess: the terrain has changed over the last two thousand years.”
Pushing away from the wall, Chambers began to pace. “Yes, a great deal. The scroll contains lines like this.” He moved to the scroll image, pointed to the oddly shaped, chiseled letters, and translated: “At the sepulchral monument in the third course of stones—one hundred gold bars.” He turned back to Cove. “Of course, that’s a paraphrase, but you get the idea. What sepulcher? Does this refer to the ruin of Horebbah in the Valley of Achor mentioned in the line above? When this was written, such places were common knowledge, at least to the Essenes. Now the best we can do is guess at many of these.”
“How do you know that after the destruction of Jerusalem some of the surviving Essenes or priests didn’t retrieve the treasure?”
“We don’t know that, but it’s unlikely. The Romans destroyed and desecrated the temple. Most of the treasures are associated with the temple one way or another. There was no reason to retrieve the treasures except for their monetary value.”
“That sounds like high-octane motivation to me. I mean, I wouldn’t mind finding a few tons of treasure.” He paused. “Who wouldn’t?”
“We Westerners think that way, but ancient religious Jews didn’t. Selling off the gold and silver would be the same as stealing from God. The people who hid these treasures would never think of picking God’s pocket. They’d rather die first.” He paused. “Many did.”
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