Moffat's Secret

by J. C. Williams

  “Hello?” was his groggy greeting to the receiver.

  Realizing that he just wakened his guest, the desk clerk apologized. “Sorry if I awoke you, Dr. Archer. This is the front desk. A package has been delivered for you.”

  “Oh, okay. I didn’t want to sleep long, anyway.”

  “We can deliver it to your room,” the clerk suggested.

  “That’s okay. No need. I will go for a run and pick it up afterwards.” Chad was curious, but he put his need to transition to the new time zone ahead of his curiosity. He needed to have his mind clear the next two days.

  “Dr. Archer. Perhaps stop by the desk and let us give you a route to run. It is the Sabbath. Some neighborhoods should be respected and avoided today.”

  An hour later, his shortened run finished, Chad stopped at the front desk. The package was an eight and a half by eleven padded manila envelope.

  Safely in his room, he emptied it to find a map of Jerusalem, and a cell phone. No note.

  Chad assumed this was his Haskin contact. After a shower, he went to the hotel restaurant for a light meal. It was nearly three o’clock. Sundown was at eight tonight. There would be no contact until after sundown. He took out Doc’s journals. Re-reading the first and second journals on this project, the notes were cryptic. Several references to a rabbi. An underlined comment - no contact with tech. Doc’s date log showed two meetings with the Rabbi – capitalized. Another appointment was with Gaige Mandl, the archeologist that Chad would meet with on Sunday, tomorrow. He knew Mandl. He worked with him on a dig in the Israeli desert for a few months. Mandl was one of the many who came to Doc’s funeral. A long trip. Chad appreciated it. Julie was even more appreciative that he came that far.

  It felt eerie to Chad that he was taking the same steps and making the same contacts as Doc. One of the cryptic notes in Doc’s daily journal was a question – behind the marker? It was followed by one word - empty. The next page began with an underlined entry - see Gaige. Cryptic as all this was, Chad expected Doc’s private journal could enlighten him and make sense of this. He wondered for the thousandth time what happened to the third journal.

  Chapter 41

  Archer stood at the window of his room. The view was spectacular. The Old City was coming to life. Lights. People. Traffic. It was thirty minutes after sundown. He was excited as well as intrigued by the maps and cell phone.

  Despite thinking about the secretive phone, he jumped when the ringing began.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “Archer?”

  “Yeah. Who are you?”

  “Never mind that now. Meet tonight. Nine o’clock. Take taxi to Menahem Tsiyon Synagogue. Start walking south. Bring the phone. I’ll direct you from there.”

  Chad waited for more. When nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, he replied, “Okay.” He started to ask a question but the caller had hung up. He smiled and joked to himself that perhaps he should stop and buy a trench coat and a fedora before meeting Mister Mysterious. He wondered if the man on the phone was the rabbi that Haskin mentioned, or was he a cutout.

  ----

  Archer paid off the taxi, determined which way was south and began walking. The burner phone rang when he reached the next intersection.

  “Turn right,” he was instructed. The phone went dead.

  Once again the phone rang. “Turn left. Then another left at the Wohl.” This time the caller did not hang up.

  Chad followed the instruction seeing the sign for the Wohl Archeological Museum. Was this an attempt at irony or humor?

  “Turn back,” he was commanded.

  Chad reversed his path. A minute later. “Again.”

  He went back toward the Wohl. Thirty more seconds. A one-word command, “Left.”

  At the next intersection his caller told him to turn right and stop and look in a shop window. The sidewalks in the Old City were busy tonight. Chad waited patiently.

  “Continue to the next street. Then left.”

  Each time Chad turned he let his eyes look around without making it obvious. He picked up his guide. I’m either good at this, or he is bad at it, Chad thought.

  “Go in the Burger Bar. Wait for me.”

  Chad went into the restaurant and waited, perusing the menu. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. The hand squeezed.

  “Sorry for all of that Dr. Archer. I have to be careful. You would be wise to do so as well.”

  Chad doubted the need for this secrecy and caution. But he went along with it. Maybe the rabbi inflated the danger to raise his price for info and services to Haskin.

  “Are you the rabbi?” He had recognized the voice at his shoulder as the one on the phone.

  “Yes.”

  “Rabbi what?” Chad asked. “You know my name.”

  “Just call me rabbi,” was the curt reply.

  Chad sized up the man next to him. Big, burly, overweight. He already felt the strength in man’s hand. His shoulder still felt the squeeze. The rabbi’s large round face had a likable amiability to it. His full beard was about eight inches long at the chin, but cut closer on his cheeks. A pair of wire rim glasses resting low on his nose left Chad with a feeling he was talking to a big chummy bear - a chummy bear with a black kippah on his head and an open collar white shirt. The rabbi blended in with seventy percent of the males walking through the Old City.

  “Let’s eat something. Burger and wine?”

  “Sure. My usual Saturday night meal,” Chad quipped.

  Outside the Burger Bar, a shadow slipped past. Lupa, the hunter, the wolf, wore a half smile. It was amusement at the amateurish attempt by the rabbi to spot and lose a tail.

  Chapter 42

  The rabbi was chewing on a large bite of a double cheeseburger. A plastic cup of red wine sat in front of him. Chad went with a beer and a hamburger without a bun.

  “Beer and wine,” Chad mused. “Not your father’s Burger Bar.”

  The rabbi stopped chewing. Looking askance at Archer, he asked, “My father? He never knew about Burger Bars. This is new.”

  “Sorry. A joke lost in the translation. I should have said, not America’s Burger Bar. There are many restaurants like this around Boston, but they don’t serve alcohol.”

  “Ah. Different,” the rabbi said.

  “Yes. Rabbi, why all the evasive tactics if you end up in a public place like this? Wouldn’t we be better off in some dark alley?”

  “In Israel, a dark alley will look suspicious. You do not want to look suspicious.”

  The rabbi continued, “You came a long way Dr. Archer. Boyer said Dr. Clark was a friend. My condolences.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate you telling the story again.”

  “No problem. Besides, Boyer pays well.”

  “Yes, he does. Can I ask how you met Boyer?”

  “Haskin was first.”

  “How so?”

  The rabbi hesitated to share and in the end decided not to.

  “Perhaps a story for another day.”

  The rabbi’s smile was warm, but Chad sensed he was holding back something important.

  “Can we talk here?” Chad asked eyeing the few other customers.

  “We’re fine here for some of the conversation. Very little business this late,” the rabbi said, looking around. “What can I tell you?”

  “To start with, let me state what I know.”

  “Good, go ahead.”

  “There were scrolls found four years ago that the Israeli army has and is keeping secret. The scrolls tell a story of the movement of the tablets that contain the Ten Commandments. So far so good?”

  “Yes. To clarify, though, the scrolls were not viewed until a year later.”

  “Where were they found?”

  “In a cave on Mount Carmel.”

  “Where is that? The desert?” Chad knew but wanted the rabbi talking and sharing.

  “No. It is near Haifa.”

  “A cave is not a good environment for preservation. What were they ke
pt in? I can see there can be doubt about the validity of the find.”

  “A cave would be a problem, but it was in a clay pot. A vacuum urn. Do you know what that is?”

  “I have heard of them, but never seen one.”

  “Rare they are. Most have broken over the centuries. There is a special urn lid, constructed like a modern bottle stopper. The lid or stopper and the urn opening are finely ground and matched. Olive oil is used to lubricate the two parts to allow the turning of the stopper. The center of the stopper has a small hole that goes half way into the stopper. It connects with another hole that is a horizontal one that goes from the middle of the stopper out one side. That hole matches up to a point in the side of the urn that is hollowed out. When the holes are aligned a hollow reed is used to suck out the air. While doing that, the stopper is turned sealing off the hole. The urn is essentially under a vacuum then. It is a simple idea. The manufacturing was complex, but it was common three thousand years ago in Egypt. They used that method to preserve many things buried with mummies.”

  “How do you know this information?” Chad asked.

  “My technician friend, who dated the papyrus, asked these same questions to verify the age of the scrolls.”

  “And did he verify it?” Chad asked.

  “He did. In addition, he asked how it was found and who had possession. He needed to know that information to verify chain of custody. It was found on a patrol and was tagged but not sent to a battalion commander for a year. The commander had some background in antiquities and recognized the vacuum urn. He knew how to use olive oil and some other ingredients to create a penetrating lubricant. He opened it and recognized the Greek language. He copied some parts of the documents and had them translated. When he realized what he had, he took it to the Intelligence Directorate.”

  “They had it dated then?” Chad asked.

  “No, not for a year. First they translated it. If you know part or all of the tale it tells, you can understand why they waited a year to validate it.”

  “I don’t know the story,” Chad said. “Haskin told me you would share that.”

  The rabbi wondered if this was true. Haskin and Boyer didn’t share? Were they testing him? Attempting to see if the story changed?

  “The information would be explosive,” he said. “It will be explosive. That’s why we are careful. Let’s finish eating and take a walk.”

  Their route was along the streets Archer had walked earlier.

  “Dr. Archer, I hope I don’t offend you if I tell you some of our history. I don’t know what you know.”

  “Assume I know nothing,” Chad said enthusiastically. He liked the rabbi. Whatever the rabbi cared to tell him, he wanted. Right now he needed more data to create a forensic history.

  “Good. We are talking about the Ten Commandments. That you know. They were carried in the Ark of the Covenant and were housed in the Temple of Solomon for four hundred years. The Babylonians destroyed the temple in 587 BCE. The Tabernacle in the Temple was destroyed as well. There was no mention of the Babylonians taking the Ark or the tablets. It was assumed that the tablets were removed and hidden. Maybe in the Temple, maybe in its foundation, maybe somewhere in Jerusalem, maybe outside of Jerusalem.”

  Chad knew all of this from the papers of his students.

  He asked the rabbi, “Why do you think that it is so important where they are? I often wondered about that. No disrespect meant, but the Ten Commandments are not complicated. We all know them. They can be easily passed on verbally generation-to-generation. In fact, they have been.”

  “The tablets came from God. The Torah says God made them. More importantly they belong to us, the children of David, the Jews. We were entrusted with their protection. That is the dilemma. If it became known that there are clues to their whereabouts, it would initiate searches worldwide. The scrolls say there is a clue near the Temple.”

  Chad thought about the dilemma, “Moses, the Ten Commandments, and the tablets - all of those things belong not just to the Jews, but to Christians, and the Muslims as well. Every religion would want to find them.”

  “You are correct, Dr. Archer. Do you know the religious population of the world? Over fifty percent is Muslim and Christian. Just one percent is Jewish. We are out-numbered fifty to one by others who derive their beliefs from Abraham and Moses. Many people do not realize that Islam considers Moses a great prophet. He is mentioned more times in the Quran than any other prophet. Whoever would find the tablets and hold them, have a tremendous claim of importance. The tablets are treasure and power in the world of those religions.”

  The rabbi continued, “You probably know this. The Temple Mount is sacred to the Jews, the Muslims, and the Christians. It is believed to be the Mount Moriah where Abraham offered to sacrifice his son Isaac. As you have said, Abraham is important to all three religions. The Temple Mount today holds two Muslim buildings. The first is the Dome of the Rock, where Muhammad left the earth to visit heaven on his winged horse. The second is a mosque. The Jews have the Wailing Wall, the west wall of the second Temple that was built on the site. If Jews wanted to dig to find the tablets, the Muslims would object. If the Muslims started to dig, the Jews would object. It would create a heightened religious conflict. Like I said - explosive.”

  “I understand it better now,” Chad said. “Are there any archeology excavations allowed under the Temple Mount?”

  “No. Even when Israeli authorities or Islamic authorities conduct repairs, there are accusations and protests from the other religion. If the information in the scrolls become known, that’s where everyone would look, or want to look.”

  “Surely, if the tablets were found it would be shared with the world,” Chad said. “Would that provide a common ground to believe together?”

  “Perhaps the find would be shared. Perhaps not. However, you must not delude yourself that it would bring any of the three religions closer. It would not reduce tensions, intolerance, and hostility.”

  “Is that why the scrolls have not been shared?”

  “I believe so. The scrolls tell a story of an acolyte, a student of the high priests. He was told of a visit of angels to the high priests. The angels warned that the Temple was at risk and the tablets should be moved. The angels gave instructions as to where and when they should be taken. The angels also gave instructions about leaving a message or clue as to the new location. The tablets were taken at night from the Tabernacle by the three priests, dressed as merchants. They traveled with the acolyte to Mount Carmel. It was a five-day trip. The priests went up the mountain with the tablets, leaving their acolyte to attend to their camp.”

  “Mount Carmel is near Haifa, a port, isn’t it?” Chad asked.

  “Yes it is. Are you thinking that the tablets could have traveled by water from there?”

  “Yes. Do you think so, rabbi?”

  “Perhaps. Greece was not far, or the Island Crete.”

  “Why Mount Carmel? Why not direct to Haifa.”

  “We’ll never know. At that time, Mount Carmel was revered as a holy place. A place where one could be closer to God. Communicate with God. Similar to Mount Sinai in Egypt. Although, we don’t really know which mountain is Mount Sinai.”

  “What happened then?”

  “He says that for two days there was noise and fire on the mountain. On the third day one priest staggered back down the mountain, sick and dying. The priest said the other two were dead. The scrolls do not say how they died. The third priest passed away. The writer described his body as falling apart.”

  Chad made some deductions. “So the tablets could be there? On Mount Carmel? There are theories that the Ark of the Covenant held some radiation power. It had killed others who had contact with it. Maybe that myth is true and they died of radiation poisoning? Did they move the tablets in the Ark?”

  “My source did not report that the scrolls mentioned the ark,” the rabbi said.

  “I have questions about your source, but complete your st
ory.”

  “Alright, but this is the short version of it. I have notes that are more complete. Notes that I took as my source told it to me.”

  “Great. I would like to see them and meet your source.”

  The rabbi became quiet. Thinking. Chad expected the rabbi to balk at the request. The rabbi was, at the moment, well paid as the sole knowledge source for Haskin. If Chad spoke directly with the source, the rabbi would not be needed.

  “The story,” the rabbi began again. “Our young acolyte wrote that he saw the tablets leave the mountain. He was frightened. He felt that priests were killed because they knew that the tablets had been moved and they also knew the new location of the tablets. He feared if he were discovered, he would be killed as well. Even though he didn’t know where the tablets were, he knew where the clue was. The acolyte fled to Greece, a rising power in the world at that time. He was safe there while Babylon destroyed Jerusalem. Fifty years later, Babylon’s power declined and Jerusalem was in the hands of the Israelites once again. He returned to Mount Carmel and wrote his story.”

  “You said the scrolls said he saw the tablets leave? Did he see a ship leave? From Haifa?”

  “That was a strange part of the story. My source did not read anything about a ship. He read that the tablets left in a bright fast light from Mount Carmel.”

  Chad considered what it could be. “Perhaps a chariot? Reflecting the setting sun?”

  “Perhaps,” the rabbi said softly. “Perhaps it was the Ark, glowing. Or, perhaps, the God of Mount Sinai, the God of thunder and light, took them back.”

  Chapter 43

  “Tell me about this source, the technician who saw the scrolls. How did he get involved?”

  “Certainly. He does radiocarbon dating. He’s evidently very good. He was contacted directly by the military. He was told that it was a project outside his normal work. Even the management of his company was not clued in.”