“I don’t understand why the Rod of God would be on an Egyptian chariot,” Elvis said. “Explain that to me.”
“Well, David supposedly left the staff to his descendants, who used it as a holy scepter in the temple until the Pharaoh Shishak captured and pillaged Jerusalem, as well as looted the temple in 925 BC. As an insult to the Jews, the pharaoh purportedly took it back to Egypt and used the staff as an ordinary part of the royal chariot.”
“Why didn’t he just destroy it?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that have been a bigger insult?”
“Do you think they didn’t try? Legend says those in the pharaoh’s employ who tried to break or destroy it failed and then died horrible deaths. Apparently the rod is indestructible. It’s an instrument of God, after all.”
Guess he had a point.
“How did you find it?” Slash asked.
“Thirteen years ago I uncovered a series of ancient inscriptions in a cave in Jordan. After the destruction of Jerusalem, many Jews fled the city and hid in caves in nearby regions. Inside the caves, they inscribed specific details to the sacking of the city. Once I translated them, the inscriptions led me to a particular stone tablet that had been important in the temple. I tracked that tablet to the British Museum. Together, those two historical accounts enabled me to piece together a story. It told of an important Jewish relic that the pharaoh placed on the royal chariot after all attempts to destroy it had failed. He brought it back to Egypt. The stone didn’t describe the artifact or its size. So, archeologists assumed that meant they carried it back to Egypt on the chariot. I believed that was an incorrect interpretation because they didn’t understand the artifact.”
“But you did?” Slash asked.
“Yes. As a result of the inscriptions from the cave, I had a leap of insight. I decided to take the translation literally and assumed that it was actually attached to the pharaoh’s chariot. I began examining all royal chariots I could find. You can’t imagine my excitement when I found a chariot awaiting display with unmatched draft poles.” His voice rose with excitement. “When I found the chariot and examined the rod closely, I noticed there was ancient Hebrew writing on it. That alone was odd on an Egyptian chariot. Then, one phrase carved on the staff convinced me the artifact was indeed Moses’s staff.”
“What was the phrase?” Elvis asked.
“Roughly translated from Hebrew it is ‘I am that I am.’”
Slash looked surprised. “Exodus 3:14.”
Arthur turned to Slash. “Yes. The full passage reads: ‘And God said unto Moses, I am that I am.’ Then God added, ‘This is what you are to say to the Israelites: I am has sent me to you.’”
The expression on Slash’s face was thoughtful. For me, it was all a lot to take in. Personally, I wasn’t sure what to think. This was so far out of my realm of expertise I was struggling to keep up.
“So, you’re saying Moses’ staff has been on an Egyptian royal chariot for all these years?” Elvis said.
“That’s what I’m saying.” Arthur shifted in his chair. “Given a relatively ordinary appearance and unexpected location, it has remained hidden in plain sight all this time.”
“So, where do the spores come in?” Gwen asked.
“Do you remember the plagues that Moses brought down upon Egypt to convince the pharaoh to let his people go?”
“Yes,” said Gwen, “There were six or seven of them.”
“Ten,” Slash said quietly.
“Correct.” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. “The last and the greatest of the plagues suddenly killed all of the firstborn of Egypt. It was so horrible and devastating the pharaoh relented and let the Jewish people leave.”
The scenario Arthur was portraying was really starting to convince me that there are some things better left buried in the sand.
“Do you believe the spores were the source of the final plague?” I kind of wished he’d get to the point. I worried we’d have to sit through a two-hour history lesson before he explained the bottom line. Not that I didn’t like history—I did. But now wasn’t the time for that.
“I certainly wasn’t looking for a plague,” he said. “In fact, I had to disguise my interest in the staff and could only view the chariot in short intervals. But I was able to take a picture of the bottom of the staff where there were more ancient Hebrew symbols. It took some time to decipher them, but they roughly translated to ‘home of the death seeds.’”
“Death seeds?” Gwen repeated.
“I puzzled for a long time as to what that meant,” Arthur said. “Underneath those symbols was a line that went around the staff and more symbols that said ‘death moves as the sun.’ I first assumed it to be a reference to the angel coming in the night and slaying the first-born of Egypt. But it didn’t make sense. I think it would have been more appropriate to say the moon instead of the sun. But then, I had an aha moment and twisted the bottom of the staff in the same direction as the sun and it moved and eventually came off. Inside I found a small clay tube with what turned out to be the spores.”
“There were spores inside the tube?” I asked.
“Yes, but I didn’t open the tube there. I slipped it in my pocket and brought it home to study. The death seeds and plague references had me scared a bit. So, I asked for Zizi’s help. She suited up with a respirator, gloves and disposable gown and opened the vial. She separated a few samples of spores for me. I later sent those spores to the boys to figure out what they were. And here you are.”
“Here we are.” Elvis’s voice was void of emotion. “Amazingly enough alive, considering you knew the spores might contain dangerous death seeds and still you sent them in the mail to me and Xavier without proper safety protocols or warning.”
“We’ve been over this.” Arthur sighed. “I was careful how I mailed it. The vial didn’t break, did it? Besides, I knew you and your brother were smart enough to decode my note before examining the spores.”
Elvis looked like he might argue, but then he just shut his mouth, realizing debating the issue was futile at this point.
“The bottom line is, my research led me to the staff. I followed every clue and found it. This will go down as one of the greatest archeological finds of all time.”
I didn’t necessarily agree with that, especially if his discovery released a plague on the world, but I had already made enough people mad at me for one day, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Arthur, what else can you tell us about the properties of the staff?”
Arthur took a deep breath before picking up his water bottle and taking a swig. “I think it holds a possible antidote also hidden within the rod at the top end. There’s a rounded knob there with markings that translate in ancient Hebrew that read ‘life from death.’ The knob spins but won’t come off. There are four rotating sections underneath the knob with special markings. The sections have hieroglyphics of the pyramids and some dots. I believe it’s an ancient puzzle or code.”
“Why do you think there’s an antidote?” Gwen asked. “Given its age and apparent lethality, how would Moses have known about an antidote? I would think back then they barely understood the idea of poison. For that matter, how did Moses know how to use the bacteria to kill the Egyptians and not the Jews?”
“God told him?” Slash suggested softly.
Hard to find a way to argue with that.
Arthur smiled at both Gwen and Slash, as if they were his best students. “Well, Exodus 12:8 speaks of Moses insisting that the Jews that night eat their dinner with bitter herbs. He said all must eat the herbs. Then, that night, the death came and passed over all those who ate the herbs. I believe there was some property in those bitter herbs that protected against the bacteria and acted as a natural antibiotic against the spores. We just have to get our hands on the staff and figure out the combination to open the other end. Then we can analy
ze the antidote and broadcast it to counter the plague. It’s really quite simple.”
“That’s simple?” I asked.
“Of course. If you only knew what I’ve already done to get to this point, you’d understand.”
I rolled my neck, trying to work out the tension. I was wound tighter than a hacker one keystroke away from a crack into the CIA. “What if there isn’t an antidote?”
“There is. There has to be.”
“Why didn’t you tell Haji any of this?” Zizi asked. “The museum would have helped you.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Arthur held up his hands. “Besides, I wasn’t sure what I’d found at first. Haji could have taken the staff and the endospores, pretending it was his find. It would have been his word against mine. Who do you think people would believe? The Director of Museum Research at the Egyptian Museum or me—a nobody?”
“You’re hardly a nobody, Arthur.” Zizi dropped into a chair and crossed her long legs. “You’re an Oxford professor.”
“Who has spent his life in pursuit of this artifact. You think I’d turn it over just like that? When I am so close?”
Gwen had moved to her laptop and held up her hand like a student. “Um, excuse me, Mr. Zimmerman. Supposedly the staff of Moses has already been found. It’s in Topkapi Palace in Turkey. Pictures from the museum make it look like it’s a wand, versus a staff.”
“That’s not Moses’s staff,” Arthur said firmly. “I’ve examined it myself.”
“Agreed,” Slash said.
It surprised me how quickly and assuredly Slash spoke. Then I remembered the little gold cross he always wore under his shirt. He’d worked at the Vatican and probably had as much access to religious secrets as the Pope. Maybe he knew something we didn’t. I waited, but whatever it was, if anything, he wasn’t sharing.
Slash pushed off the desk. The movement caused Zizi to drop her hand from his arm. I sighed an inward breath of relief.
He walked to the window, leaning a muscled forearm against the pane and stared out. “So, now we know exactly where the staff is...what’s next?”
Zizi shifted on her feet. “We have to get the staff into safe hands. It’s imperative.”
“Exactly whose hands are those?” I asked.
“The museum, of course. The staff belongs to them.”
“The staff was stolen thousands of years ago from Jerusalem,” I said. “How does that make it the property of the Egyptian government?”
Zizi narrowed her eyes at me. Wow, if she could have stabbed me with that look, I would have been toast. Great. Now I’d pissed her off, too. I was batting a thousand today in terms of wrecking relationships.
“Moses was an Egyptian,” she said coolly.
“Not originally. He was born Hebrew and adopted by the Pharaoh’s daughter,” Gwen spoke up. “Besides, he was exiled by the time he received the staff from God, which means technically he was no longer an Egyptian.”
I almost smiled, but out of respect for Zizi, didn’t. Still, the fact that Gwen was the only one in the room coming to my defense didn’t escape my notice.
“Ladies, let’s not argue,” Arthur said. “We have to work together on this. I found the staff. It’s my decision to whom we turn this over. But we have to be careful. This is far more dangerous than I realized.”
“What do you mean it’s your decision?” Zizi strode in front of Arthur. “What’s going to stop me from telling Haji where the staff is?”
“The endospores.” Slash spoke quietly, still facing the window. “You’re a microbiologist, Zizi. You understand what’s at stake. Those men have the endospores and they’re going to upload Gwen’s structural analysis and notes on how to create this plague to a jihadist website. I can’t speak to your personal beliefs, but that plague isn’t going to ask about religion before it kills. If that staff has an antidote, it’s imperative we get it. Ownership of the staff and who gets credit for the find is secondary to that. Otherwise, thousands, maybe even millions, of innocent people are going to die.”
Zizi let out a deep breath, pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Fine. You’re right.”
Elvis exhaled heavily. “Okay, while that’s not even close to settled, the next question is—how do we get our hands on the staff?”
“Zizi, is there any way you can get it?” Slash asked.
“No. Only certain museum officials are permitted to touch the exhibits. I’m not one of them.”
“We don’t have time to request permission either,” Elvis said.
“No we don’t.” Slash shoved his fingers in his hair. “But we have to examine it. We must. We have to determine if there’s actually an antidote. Divinely made or not, one thing is certain—no living soul should be ever harmed by this plague again.”
Zizi picked up her purse, a tired expression on her face. “Despite my reservations in regards to ownership of the staff, I agree with Slash. Still, it’s getting late. I must go check in with my family. They’ll be worried about me. I need time to rest and think. I’ll come back later.”
I was certain Slash would protest her departure. At this juncture she knew too much and could completely jeopardize the situation if she decided to spill our find to the police, the museum, or any one of a dozen people.
Instead he turned away from the window. “Good idea. I’ll walk you home.”
My mouth dropped open. Gwen and Elvis looked surprised, as well. Only Arthur sat quietly, most likely thinking of his monumental discovery and how to secure the glory for himself.
I watched as Slash strode to the door and opened it for Zizi. She went out and Slash followed her, the door closing behind them. Neither looked back.
I felt strangely close to tears. Blinking hard, I stood and sat down in front of my computer. There was no movement on any front. No signal from Arthur’s laptop. Nothing appearing on the jihadist website.
Nada.
Gwen came up behind me and handed me a water bottle. “Here, Lexi,” she said. “You should stay hydrated.”
I took the water and unscrewed the top. “Thanks, Gwen.”
“Sure. No problem.”
She sat down at her computer and Elvis came and sat at his. We stared glumly at the screens.
Arthur stood up, apparently hoping to energize us. “Why are you just sitting around your computers? We have to go get that staff.”
“We’re trying to figure out how to do just that,” I said, more than a little annoyed. “If you have any ideas, I’m open to hearing them.”
Apparently he didn’t have any because he picked up the remote control and turned on the television and started watching.
About forty minutes later, Slash returned to the suite. He was alone.
His eyes met mine across the room as he entered, a slight smile touching his lips. I watched him warily, wondering what had put him in a good mood. I hoped it hadn’t been a passionate kiss from Zizi or something.
Elvis stood up. “Slash, are you sure you did the right thing leaving her? What if she goes to the police?”
“She might. But we can’t keep her against her will. And I don’t think she will go to the police, because we aren’t completely sure those jihadists weren’t really policemen who have a side business. Besides, we need to retrieve the staff without her.”
“We do? How are we going to do that?” I asked.
He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a plastic card, the size of a credit card. He held it between two fingers. “With this.”
I squinted. “What is it?”
“Zizi’s key card to the museum.”
“She gave you her key card?” My eyes widened in surprise.
“No. I lifted it from her.”
I hate to admit the first thing that crossed my mind was a mental calculation of how c
lose he had to be to standing next to her to steal the card or how he might have distracted her.
Gwen looked shocked. “You...stole it? But, she’s on our side.”
“She’s also a museum employee and an Egyptian citizen. We have to do this without her. I’m afraid we’re out of options.”
It sounded more like he was protecting her. “Isn’t she coming back later?” I asked. “How will we keep this from her?”
“I told her not to return until the morning and we needed time to think things through.”
Arthur clicked off the television, his full attention now on Slash. Gwen stood next to Elvis, slipping her hand into his. He seemed to stand taller when he was next to her.
I studied Slash’s face. “So, what does that mean?”
He turned his gaze on me. “It means I steal the staff. Tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Everyone started talking at once.
“What?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Steal it from the museum?”
“What if you get caught?”
Slash held up a hand, quieting us and our questions. “Listen, if we do this right, we won’t get caught.”
“What if we do it wrong?” Gwen asked.
“That option is not on the table,” Slash said.
“I think all scenarios should be on the table,” Gwen said. “We’re talking about stealing a priceless artifact from one of the world’s most well-known museums. Moses’s staff, for heaven’s sake. What if we get caught? I don’t want to live out the rest of my life in an Egyptian prison.”
“Give Slash a chance to explain,” I said. “I think we all should sit down.”
Those of us who weren’t seated found a place to sit, but Slash remained standing. It was a position of power, a position of leadership.
Right now, that’s what we needed.
“Okay, let’s put all of our options on the table,” Slash said.
“Maybe it’s time to risk going to the police,” Elvis said quietly. “This is getting too dangerous.”
No Living Soul Page 20
