by Alex Lukeman
Selena looked at him again. He smiled at her.
"This way," Wainwright said.
He led them past two winged lions with human heads flanking a short hall. The hall ended at a magnificent wooden gate placed against the wall.
"Those are from Nimrud in Iraq," Wainwright said. "About 860 BCE or thereabouts."
"Impressive," Nick said. "Those lions would look pretty good on the entrance to somebody's driveway."
Selena rolled her eyes. Wainwright ignored him. They came to an unmarked door . Wainwright took out a set of keys and opened it. He led them through a room filled with shelves stacked with packaged and boxed and numbered artifacts. They came to a wooden work table. Wainwright reached up to a shelf above it.
"Here we are," Wainwright said. "You're in luck. The Ephram scroll was recently prepared for display as an example of the day to day tedium of a trading caravan from the period and writing typical of the era. And of course there's the brief mention of the Queen of Sheba. That adds interest. There's damage, however I'm told it's quite readable."
The ancient parchment had been unrolled and mounted flat in a glass box filled with inert gas. It was about four feet long and a little over a foot high. Rips and holes broke up the narrative in several places. The last part of the scroll was little more than fragments. Narrow lines of tiny writing covered the visible surface.
"Where was it discovered?" Selena asked.
"In Egypt, during the nineteenth century," Wainwright said. "It was found with several other scrolls in a villa dating from the time of Cleopatra."
"When the Romans were there."
"Yes."
"Do the Egyptians want it back?"
"They do. They've been waiting for it, along with everything else we have here that came from Egypt. I'm afraid they'll have rather a long wait."
"This is a very odd construction," Selena said. She pointed at a section of writing where something seemed to have eaten part of the parchment. "I've never seen anything quite like it before."
"I don't read Aramaic," Wainwright said. "I'll take your word for it."
"I'd like to photograph this if it's all right with you. It's going to take some time for me to make an accurate translation. I'll be sure to send you my results and comments if you'd like."
"Of course, Doctor Connor." Wainwright looked at his watch. "Tea time. Would the two of you care for a cup of tea?"
"That would be wonderful. Thank you, Sir Peter."
"How do you take it?"
"Milk on the bottom, please."
Wainwright nodded approvingly. "And you, Mister Carter?"
"I'll take a coffee if you have one," Nick said. "Black."
Wainwright sniffed again. "I'll see what I can do. Let me go find someone to get it for us."
He left them at the table and disappeared between the shelves.
"Are you deliberately trying to piss him off?" Selena asked when he was out of earshot. "First that crack about the lions and now you want coffee?"
"He's annoying," Nick said. "I don't like the way he looks at you. Besides, I don't like tea that much."
"You're hopeless."
Selena took out her phone and began photographing the scroll.
"What does it say?" Nick asked.
"Like I told Sir Peter, it will take me a little time to translate it. From what I can see, it's just what he said, a diary of a trading expedition south into the Arabian Peninsula from Jerusalem."
"Carrying the body of Solomon?"
"There's no mention that I can see," Selena said. She pointed. "This is the reference to the Queen of Sheba. It's in that section that's torn and there's something strange about the way it's written. I'll have to study it to make any sense of what it means."
Wainwright returned. "Have you managed to complete your pictures, Doctor Connor? I've asked that tea be laid out for us in the canteen."
"I'm almost done." She took two more pictures and put her phone back in her purse. "I could use a nice cup of tea."
An hour later they were coming down the steps of the museum. Neither Nick nor Selena noticed the tall man who glanced at them as he passed them going up.
CHAPTER 17
The next morning Nick and Selena went out for breakfast. Their plane wasn't leaving until the afternoon. They passed a newsstand.
"Nick. Look at that headline."
MURDER AT THE
BRITISH MUSEUM
Nick bought a paper and glanced at the article. "Guess who was murdered?"
"Not Sir Peter?"
"Right the first time. Somebody cut his throat. I didn't like him much but he didn't deserve that."
"It can't be a coincidence," Selena said.
"No."
"Does it say anything about the scroll?"
Nick scanned the article. "It says an inventory is being conducted and police suspect theft as the motive."
"Somebody killed him and took the scroll," Selena said.
"It looks that way. Good thing you have those pictures."
"It has to be the same people who blew up the train and the research facility in Grenoble."
"Seems likely." Nick looked at his watch. "A little early in Virginia to call Harker."
"You think she'll want us to stay here?"
"I don't see any reason why she would. Wainwright's dead and I'll bet that the scroll is gone. There's nothing we can do about it on this end."
"What about breakfast?"
"That's one of the things I like about you," he said. "The way you pay attention to what's important. We'll eat, go back to the hotel and get to the airport. I'll call Harker from there."
Five hours later they were over the Atlantic headed home. The business class seats on the British Airways 777 were wide and comfortable. Selena sipped a Mimosa and began making notes as she worked through the pictures she'd taken of the scroll, reading the story.
Ephram had left Jerusalem with a trading caravan in the same year the Romans reached the city, headed to the southern part of the Arabian Peninsula and what was now Yemen. There was no mention of Solomon or anything to do with the Temple. She came to the part of the scroll that seemed odd to her. Selena was familiar with many variations of classical and biblical Aramaic. She'd never seen anything like what Ephram had written.
"This is really interesting," she said.
Nick sat next to her. He was nursing a glass of whiskey and reading about the gadgets offered in one of the magazines provided by the airline.
"What is?"
"This part of the scroll." She tapped her finger on the notes she had made. "It just doesn't make sense. Up until this point it's typical Aramaic, then suddenly it becomes unreadable. It's almost as if the letters were scrambled."
"Maybe they are," Nick said.
"Why would Ephram..." Selena paused. "Oh. You think it's deliberate. A code?"
"It could be. Maybe he's hiding something."
"Like where he hid the treasure?"
"At least something he didn't want people to know about. Why did he go on that trip in the first place?" Nick asked.
"Rome was advancing on the city. This caravan could be the one that took Solomon's body out of Jerusalem. The scroll says it was carrying cloth and wine to the south. I have trouble believing that. Why go overland? If you were a trader back then, it was easier and quicker to sail down to the southern tip of Arabia with your cargo. Ephram's route went down the eastern side of the coastal range in Arabia, through the kingdom of the Dedanites. They're the ones mentioned in the other scroll. It's hard to believe he'd take that route to sell goods."
"Maybe he had a stake in the profits. They must have needed money to fight the Romans."
"I don't see how a trip to the bottom of Arabia would help. It's a long way from Jerusalem and Judea, especially in those days."
"No mention of Solomon?"
"None. Only the reference to the Queen of Sheba. The section I can't read comes right after that."
"What does Ephram say ab
out Sheba?"
"That she was the Queen of the Night. Then he says that those who follow the route to her home will find wisdom."
"That's all he says?"
Selena nodded. She finished her Mimosa and signaled the attendant for another.
"The mention of Sheba seems out of context," she said. "It doesn't make any sense. That's right where everything becomes garbled in the narrative. Part of that section is damaged and can't be read at all. Then the narrative picks up again and Ephram starts talking about the coast of Arabia. He calls it a terrible country and says that hostile tribes live in the mountains. There's nothing else of interest to us that I can see. The end of the narrative is illegible. It looks like something ate part of the scroll."
The attendant brought Selena's drink.
"If that section is in code it can't be that complicated," Nick said. "Those old codes worked great back then but they're child's play compared to the modern stuff. Give it to Stephanie when we get back and have her run it through the computers. If it's a code, she should be able to crack it."
Selena gathered up her notes and put them away.
"How come you're not using your laptop?" Nick said.
"I like the feel of pen and paper. It's more personal and I think better that way. Once I know what I want to say, that's when I go to the computer."
"Kind of old-fashioned," Nick said.
"That's me. How long do you plan to keep Diego on probation?" she asked.
"You think he fits?"
"He's not afraid to say what he thinks and he does have the skills we need."
"He did a good job in Beirut. I'm giving him a qualified yes. He has a quick temper. That could cause trouble if he doesn't control it."
"So he's still on probation."
"For the time being. Besides, it will keep him on his toes."
"I wonder how Lamont is doing?"
"He's leasing a dive shop in Florida," Nick said. "I talked to him a couple of days ago. He sounded bored."
"Compared to what we do, just about anything is boring."
"Yeah, like that old Chinese curse about living in interesting times. Interesting times meant the barbarians were about to ride over your fields and kill you and your family. In old China nobody wanted things to be interesting."
"Would you rather be bored?"
"No," Nick said. Just the same I wouldn't mind if things were a little less interesting, at least in that department."
He paused. "I've been thinking."
"That's a change."
"No, really. I've been thinking about us getting married."
There was something in the tone of his voice that was different. Selena felt a jolt in her stomach. What was he going to say?
"I think we should do it soon."
"You do?"
"I was thinking maybe September or October. While the weather's still good."
"Why? I mean, why now?"
"You don't want to get married?"
"No. I mean, yes, I want to get married. What changed your mind? You've been putting it off."
Nick looked out the window and turned back to her. "So have you."
It was true. He wasn't the only one who'd been ambivalent about taking the final step.
Nick continued. "I've been putting it off because I still had some feelings I had to work through."
"What feelings?"
"You know I worry about one of us getting killed. We talked about that. After Megan, I shut everything down. I didn't want to feel like that again."
Selena nodded. Megan had been the love of Nick's life. He'd watched her die in a meaningless plane crash.
"I remember when my parents and my brother died," Selena said. "I didn't think I'd ever be happy again or that I could ever let myself feel love again because it was just too painful. I guess what I'm saying is I've been holding back for pretty much the same reasons you have."
"Hell, nobody gets out of here alive. Sooner or later something is going to get us. Life's too short. I love you. Getting married seems like a good way to prove it."
"You don't have to prove anything." She leaned over and kissed him. "I know where there's a nice church in Alexandria."
"You already picked out a church?"
"Just in case. If you don't like it we'll find somewhere else."
The flight attendant stopped by their seats. "Can I get you another Mimosa?" he asked.
They both spoke at the same time. "Yes." "Sure."
When the drinks came Nick held his glass up. "To us."
"To us."
CHAPTER 18
Lucas Monroe couldn't quite get used to his new office on the seventh floor. It was large and spacious, soundproofed and paneled in polished wood, almost the same size as the Director's. Lucas liked the quiet but he missed the socializing that took place on the lower floors. Now he was isolated behind secretaries and protocols. It went with the territory. It didn't mean he had to like it. Being important wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
All of a sudden his life was filled with changes. This promotion. The baby. Especially the baby. He was looking forward to the birth with mixed dread and anticipation. The only thing he was certain of was that the baby meant change. Stephanie was happy and that went a long way to balance his anxiety.
In some ways it had been easier when he was a field agent in Afghanistan and everyone was trying to kill him.
His intercom buzzed.
"Yes, Angela."
"The DCI is on line two."
"Thank you."
He touched the blinking button on his phone.
"Director."
"I've just received an inquiry from Tel Aviv," Hood said. "The Israelis want to find out what we know about the scroll that was x-rayed in France."
"That didn't take long," Lucas said.
"What do you think we should tell them?"
"If we tell them anything it should come through Harker," Lucas said. "She's the point on this. If there's anything involving the Israelis, she's the one to do it."
"You're still convinced that's the best course of action?"
"I am. Nothing has changed. This situation has the potential to turn into a political and media nightmare. We don't want to be in the middle of that if it happens. Harker has the protection of the president and she's been in hot spots before. You know what she's done, better than most."
"I just wanted to make sure you still felt the same way."
"Where did the request come from?"
"Mossad."
"If they're asking about the scroll, they know what's on it and are fishing to see if we know more. If I were the Israelis, I'd be thinking about mounting an operation to go after that tomb."
"They have to find it first," Hood said.
"Once they figure out where it's supposed to be, I don't think there's any way to stop them. The best we can hope for is to know what they're going to do and when they're going to do it. That way we can intervene if we need to."
"And how do you propose to find that out?"
"I think we should let Harker tell them what we know, which isn't much. All we really know is that the scroll says the Temple relics and Solomon's remains were taken south into what's now Saudi Arabia. It doesn't say anything more than that. There's nothing specific. Mossad will have translated the scroll so we won't be telling them anything new. If we cooperate with them now they might work with us later if it gets complicated."
"That's not necessarily true. Tel Aviv can be very stubborn."
"We have nothing to lose at this point. They're still our allies."
"Only when our interests coincide," Hood said.
"You can't expect them to be any different. Our two countries don't always want the same thing. At least we're agreed on one fundamental."
"What's that?"
"Anything that leads to a major war in the Middle East is bad news. I think we should pass the connection on to Harker and let her know she can tell them whatever she thinks is right."
"I don't think she would do anything else," Hood said. "If I've learned one thing about Elizabeth it's that you're not going to tell her how to think or what to do."
Lucas laughed. "That makes her a perfect match for the Israelis."
CHAPTER 19
Addison Rhoades woke feeling as if someone had hit him in the head with an axe. His mouth tasted like camel dung and sand. His tongue was swollen. He could smell his breath, foul and unpleasant. He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. He used the toilet and turned on the shower. One of the advantages to living in Al-Bayati's villa was hot water, even if the pressure left something to be desired.
His career at MI6 had ended under a cloud. He'd been in Iraq. Two prisoners had died while he was interrogating them. Whitehall had adopted Washington's new policy of politically correct treatment of enemies. Rhoades had an IQ approaching genius level. It didn't take a high IQ to see that after the incident in Iraq his days in the service were numbered.
American dollars had poured into Iraq by the planeload after Hussein was defeated. Washington threw money at the corporations, security firms and corrupt Iraqis who were supposed to turn the country into an American extension of the oil industry. Accurate accounting was almost nonexistent. Rhoades had arranged for several million dollars to be diverted to an account in the Cayman Islands, in anticipation of the day he'd be terminated.
It had been a smart move. Rhoades had hidden embarrassing proof about what was going on in Iraq and threatened to release it publicly. A deal had been struck. The hypocrites who ran MI6 waived prosecution and any attempts to recover the money. In return he'd resigned and promised not to release his information.
For the good of the service, they'd said.
As he walked out the door of MI6 headquarters for the last time, he made a decision. If he couldn't work for them, he would work against them. His years in the Middle East had left him with a wide base of contacts. Within a year he was well-established as a man who could be relied on to persuade someone of what was in their best interests and remove them as a problem if they could not be convinced. Then he and Al-Bayati had found each other. That had been three years before.
