Moffat's Secret

by J. C. Williams

  The rabbi bowed slightly, “Good luck to you. Let me know if you find anything or if you need help. You may need to remove something from Israeli boundaries.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We better leave separately. You go first.”

  Chad left. He walked a block, turned a corner, and circled back to see the rabbi emerge from the museum. Keeping to the shadows, Chad followed the rabbi to a synagogue a few blocks away, and then two hours later to his apartment house. Chad watched lights go on and determined the third floor apartment location. There was a doorman with a security uniform and a sidearm. Chad had hoped there were doorbells with names. No way he could go over there and look. It was a lesson learned in the tenuous world of Arab-Israeli relations.

  Chad returned to his hotel unaware of the shadow following him - the shadow of a wolf.

  Chapter 48

  Archer made three calls early Monday morning. One to the airline. One to Boyer. One to Interpol agent Adrien Tellier. If the scrolls were to be believed, the tablets were moved from Palestine. Doc went to London next. His calendar listed a visit to the British Maritime Museum. Chad didn’t know why yet, but it seemed to be the place to go.

  Two floors below him in the King David Hotel, Lupa listened to all three conversations, then called Duncan in Scotland, who in turn called the Professor in St. Andrews.

  Boyer was excited to learn about the man and three suns and the etchings on it. He was disappointed that the rabbi didn’t set up a meet with Elsha. Boyer made an offhand comment about the greediness of the rabbi.

  Chad thought about the fourth call he wanted to make. He checked the time. Nine o’clock. Employees of Weizmann Institute of Technology should be at work by now. Chad needed to know more about behind and behind. Did that mean he needed to dig more out of the cavity that once held the man and three suns stone? Doc had not pursued this point. Where did Doc get his next clue? There was only one person who could possibly shed more light on this - Elsha, last name unknown, at the Weizmann Institute.

  At that moment Elsha Lipman stared blankly at the papers on his desk. He sighed deeply. He was already overweight with high blood pressure before he ever heard of the scrolls. He was worse off now. It started two years ago. The military contacted him directly for a project, by-passing the managerial paths of Weizmann. The military then informed management that they were going to use him. Stay out of it. National Security.

  Flattered, Elsha never thought that of it as a command, instead it was a request for his services. Religious, but not fanatical, Elsha did not distinguish the difference between Israel, its Defense Forces, and his religion. They were intertwined, almost one to him.

  He remembered the day he was first collected, hooded, and driven to a secret location for the project. At first he was excited. He was surprised by the heavy-handed warnings, secrecy instructions, and paperwork he needed to sign. That was when his excitement began to turn to wariness, soon to be replaced by intense anxiety.

  If only he didn’t know Greek. Sometimes, he nearly cursed his grandmother, his mother, and all of the circumstances that led to his knowledge of the language. Oddly though, he did not realize or appreciate that his recall abilities were just as much to blame.

  For a year, the knowledge of what he learned, the movement of the tablets, ate at him. Fearing the reprisals he was warned about, he did not tell his wife, his best friend, or anyone. Once, he thought of asking his military contact if they had someone that he could talk to about his state of mind. But, he couldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to know what the scrolls contained.

  Finally, after a year, he sought the guidance of his rabbi, Avi Feigel. Feigel had been at Elsha’s temple for just a few months. However, the rabbi appeared to be both a sound religious leader as well as a man of the world. Elsha remembered the rush of relief after sharing. He went home that night and slept through the night for the first time in a year. A month later the anxiety returned when the rabbi took him aside one Saturday night after Sabbath and explained how the obligations of being a Jew outweighed the obligations to the state. It was a distinguishing concept that took months of conversation to accept.

  Elsha remembered his second unburdening when he and the rabbi sat for hours writing down what he recalled from the scrolls - the story as he remembered reading it. The rabbi had many questions. Once again, he thought that was the end of it. Then, the rabbi asked more questions. These came from a man who would finance a search for the location stone that the priests left hidden twenty-five hundred years ago. Then, he was left alone for months at a time. Some days Elsha found a peace within his anxiety. He felt an importance, knowing he was now a part of the five thousand year history of the Jews. He was an integral part with the Exodus, the reign of David, the Temple of Solomon, and the centuries of a people without a home.

  Then, five months ago there were more questions from the rabbi. Now, last night, there is an archeologist pursuing the clues and wanting to meet.

  No, no, no. Elsha told the rabbi. He felt good for finally saying no. He felt guilty as well. Deep in thought he didn’t hear the phone ringing at first.

  “Hello,” he answered in Hebrew.

  A receptionist told him, also in Hebrew, “Elsha, there is a man who wants to speak to you. He didn’t know your last name. Since you are our only Elsha and because he asked to speak to our authority on radiocarbon dating, it must be you.”

  “Thank you. Please transfer the call.” Elsha appreciated any recognition of his skills and knowledge, whether it was from the military or Weizmann’s receptionist. Especially the receptionist - she was pretty.

  Elsha recognized the clicks of the transferred call.

  “Hello,” he greeted his caller in Hebrew.

  “Elsha Lipman?” the caller said in English. Chad had learned his last name from the receptionist.

  Elsha switched to English. “Yes, this is Lipman.”

  “Hi. My name is Dr. Chad Archer. How are you?”

  Archer, thought Elsha, that was the name the rabbi shared. His heart speeded up. His mind raced.

  Chad listened to the silence for a few seconds then spoke again.

  “Mr. Lipman, I am an archeologist. I would like to meet with you. I have two reasons. One is that I may work at a local excavation soon. I will need someone qualified, or a reliable institute, for dating my finds. You have been recommended. The second reason is a book that I am writing. Though I know a little about radiocarbon dating, how it works, and when it works, I am not up-to-date on it. Perhaps there are more recent methods of dating. Again, you were described as one of the most knowledgeable sources. Can we meet?”

  Elsha thought perhaps the rabbi misinformed him or perhaps he, Elsha, did not listen well to what the rabbi said. This request was okay. His heart slowed a few beats. He still had not spoken, so many thoughts swirling.

  “Mr. Lipman, are you still there? If you are not interested I could scroll down a list that I have and perhaps call the source of my list at the Israeli Defense Force.” He had emphasized the word scroll.

  Chad heard a sharp intake of air on the end of the phone.

  Elsha tried to speak, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “I don’t think I can help you.”

  Chad waited again, and then he tried another tactic. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned the military.

  “Mr. Lipman, you are the only one who can help me. Please consider your importance. With knowledge come obligations. This is bigger than one scientist and one archeologist.” Chad tried to be circumspect not knowing if the Weizmann Institute recorded all conversations to protect their liability. Not uncommon in their work.

  Elsha fought his panic. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could meet with Archer and be done with all of this. There would be no more requests from the rabbi. Maybe. And, if he didn’t agree to meet Archer, would Archer really call the military? He sounded persistent. Elsha was smart enough to know that whoever held the scrolls seemed to be a small group. Maybe they were not in the
mainstream of command. It would make sense that they were keeping the information under control only known to a few. Would they panic if it was made known to a broader and higher military authority. How much trouble would they be in? How would they react? Would he be protected if their existence became more broadly known? Or, would they erase evidence of their actions? Was he part of that evidence? These were the same questions that kept him awake at night. These were the questions that caused the stress he tried to fix by eating.

  “Okay, we can meet.”

  “Great. Lunch hour? Noon? At Yaakov Herzog Garden. It’s a five-minute walk from where you work.” Chad had checked out Givat Shaul, the industrial park where Weizmann Institute was located. “We can stroll. I’ll bring sandwiches.”

  “I have my own lunch.” Elsha hung up. He felt some relief.

  Chad replaced the room phone in its cradle. He felt bad about pressuring the man, but he needed answers.

  Two floors below, Lupa put down the headphones. There was less than three hours to do recon and prepare for the meeting at the Garden.

  Chapter 49

  Archer waited at the most likely point of entrance for Lipman at Yaakov Herzog Garden. He read the short dedication and biography of Yaakov Herzog, so critical a force in the formation of the State of Israel. Chad wondered if he would leave a legacy to later generations. Would there be a garden dedicated to his name in Boston? Perhaps in Israel if he found the tablets?

  The Garden was a one-block area, twice as long as it was wide. The lower section contained walking paths, a garden, and a play area for children. A steep rocky hill looked like it would offer a spectacular view of the access road from Tel Aviv and the western entrance into Jerusalem.

  Glancing at his watch, Chad realized that they did not set a means to recognize each other. It was already ten past the hour. Perhaps he should have worn a certain color, carried a folded newspaper, or held a particular book. Chad was certain the paranoid rabbi would have anticipated this dilemma. The rabbi would have used burner phones and walked him in circles. Chad smiled at the spy stuff that he was led through the last two nights.

  Turning back toward the industrial park, Chad realized no identifiers were needed. Walking toward him was a short, overweight man carrying a lunch bag and constantly looking around nervously. His kippa didn’t hide his balding. A wrinkled long sleeve white shirt and large black-framed glasses completed the image of a man more interested in technology than in fashion. Lipman stopped his wary glances long enough to look directly at Chad and give a weak smile. Chad realized he didn’t need any identifying prop either. A tall redheaded American stood out.

  “Mr. Lipman,” Chad said as amiably as he could, reaching out to shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your reputation precedes you. I’m sorry I needed to bully you.”

  “That was not nice. You are not nice. Threatening me, Dr. Archer.” Lipman was upset and wanted to stay mad, but the American had a friendly openness that made that impossible.

  “Please call me Chad. We should talk about the cover reason for this meeting. Will that be okay?”

  “Fine. Just be quick. People I know may come here for lunch.”

  “I’m writing a book, Elsha. Can I call you by your first name?” Lipman nodded. “It’s about a friend and mentor. Another archeologist. He died recently after thirty years of digging and teaching. I’d like to weave in some technical information about dating artifacts. I think that the changes in techniques and testing over the last thirty years would be interesting. What do you think?”

  Lipman stopped looking around, interested in the topic.

  “I haven’t been doing this for thirty years. Almost twenty years.”

  “Add with your education on the subject and your expertise, I think you are the best source,” Chad complimented Lipman.

  The scientist warmed to the subject. They walked. Lipman lectured between mouthfuls. Chad took notes. He let it go on for twenty minutes. They sat on a bench having fully covered the lower garden area. Chad did not think walking up the steep hill would be good for Lipman. In front of them three small children played on the metal and plastic contraptions that formed tunnels, platforms, and ladders.

  “Children,” Chad said, motioning to the play area. “Do you have any?”

  “Two,” Lipman answered, resuming his wariness and nervous perusal of the Garden.

  “The next generation,” Chad commented. “They deserve our protection. We owe them the preservation of their heritage. A heritage that goes back thousands of years. Don’t you think so, Elsha?”

  Lipman answered with silence.

  “Do you know the life of the Yaakov Herzog?” Chad asked. He didn’t wait for the answer. “Born in Dublin, son of a rabbi. He became a rabbi as well. They emigrated here in 1937. He was important to the founding of your country. His brother was the sixth president of Israel. Herzog worked in foreign affairs and advised several prime ministers. He understood the bigger picture and the sacrifices needed to support the history and heritage of Israel. He knew and lived by the principles of doing what was right for Israel, even if not everyone agreed. You are like him, Elsha.”

  Chad hoped he was touching all the right points – children, family, religion, principles, history, and legacy.

  Lipman broke his silence. “They warned me. I could be imprisoned. These are state secrets.”

  “We could argue whether they are state secrets or that the knowledge they hold and that you hold does not belong to the state but to the people of Israel and the people of the world. Elsha, I need to ask you for some clarification on the story that I heard. Will you help me?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Three things for starters. Are the scrolls genuine? Second, clarification on the man and three suns. Finally, more about the death of the priests and the transportation of the tablets from Mount Carmel.”

  “They are real. The scrolls. I dated several of them and examined all of them. I saw what they were stored in. The urn was of a design used in that period.” Chad noticed Lipman’s attention on a man and woman descending the hill.

  Chad asked, “What about the story that was told? It could be fabricated. Were there references to rulers at that time? In Israel? In Greece? In Persia?”

  Lipman thought about this. “The author spoke of social issues in Greece and tyrants and unrest and someone named Solon. He mentioned the decline of Babylon and that Nebuchadnezzar who sacked Jerusalem had died. I recall a name like Nabonidus. Oh, he mentioned Persia was ruled by Cyrus the Great. He wrote a lot about Persia.”

  “Good. That gives me something to look at. The rabbi told me that the new location of the tablets was hidden Behind and Behind the man with three suns. What does that mean?”

  Lipman grew agitated. Chad turned to see what Lipman was looking at. The couple had stopped and the woman was on the phone. The man looked nonchalantly toward the bench where Lipman and Archer sat.

  “Elsha?”

  “What? Behind and Behind?”

  “Is that what the rabbi interpreted or what you read?”

  Lipman stood quickly and looked around the park. His head moved quicker. Back and forth.

  “They were different words in Greek. What did Avi say? Why does it matter?” Lipman asked.

  “What are the different words? Does Behind and Behind mean a space behind a space?” Chad asked. He also noted he had a first name for the rabbi.

  Lipman looked directly at Chad. “You found the clue?” Quickly, he added. “We have to go. I have to go.”

  “What were the different words?” Chad said almost frantically. He held one of Lipman’s arms, restraining the scientist.

  Lipman spoke, “I remember the words were more like the ‘back of’ and ‘behind’. Two different words.” He broke Chad’s grip.

  Chad hurried after Lipman. “Wait. Was there anything written about numbers on top of or on the back of a stone.”

  Lipman was hurrying now, Chad following clos
ely. Damn, he thought, if we weren’t noticeable before, we are now, if anyone was actually watching. He stopped, letting Lipman go ahead alone. I have more questions, Chad thought to himself. Lipman reached the street corner and turned back to look at Chad, even as he was stepping into the street.

  Chad heard the screech of brakes, a loud blast of a horn, a scream, and Lipman dropped from sight.

  Chapter 50

  Archer rushed to the corner with several other people. He caught sight of a car speeding away. People were pointing. Looking beyond the three people in front of him, Chad saw Lipman sprawled half in the street and half on the sidewalk. A woman had a firm grip on his arm and helped him stand.

  Lipman muttered a thank you and hurried across the street. Chad didn’t follow. The burner phone rang. Chad fished it from his pocket.

  “What the hell are you doing? What have you done?” the rabbi blurted out.

  “Good afternoon, rabbi.” Chad kept his voice even. He suspected Lipman might call the rabbi. He had half-expected the rabbi would show up instead of Lipman.

  “Is he with you now?”

  “No,” Chad said. “Not any more.”

  “Damn you, Archer. Lipman left me a message just before noon. He said you called and threatened him into meeting with you. Do you realize his phone might be monitored? Did you take precautions? You have put both of you in danger.”

  “Calm down,” Chad ordered. “I think you are paranoid. We talked about the history and evolution of dating archeological finds. It is for my book. We have a legitimate cover story.”

  “You are naïve, Archer.” The rabbi hung up.

  Paranoid or not, the rabbi’s comments gave Chad some concern. What if he was right? Was that a near-miss accident for Lipman or was it a near-miss assassination? Would the military go that far?