‘Standing on it, actually.’ Lourds picked his hat up from the floor and hung it on the coatrack in the corner of the room. He started picking up books and putting them back on the desk.
‘Why were you standing on the chair?’ Miriam picked up books as well. Most of them were heavy and cumbersome.
‘To get at a hiding place.’
‘What hiding place?’
Lourds looked at her. ‘I’m sorry. I just suddenly realized I don’t know who you are.’
Relief washed over Miriam as she straightened and offered her hand. ‘Miriam Abata.’
‘The graduate assistant President Jacob promised?’ Lourds took her hand and shook.
‘Yes.’ That was the cover story Katsas Shavit had created for her. Evidently the university was used to doing favors for the Mossad. Miriam had not known that, but it didn’t surprise her. The Mossad had resources throughout the country and across the Middle East.
‘Did you know Lev?’ Lourds picked up a sheaf of papers and set them on the corner of the desk.
‘No. I’m sorry. I heard he was a great professor.’
‘And a good friend.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ Miriam squatted and picked up more papers.
‘Thank you.’ Lourds looked at her. ‘Why would President Jacob sent you to help me if you didn’t know Lev and his work?’
Katsas Shavit had already thought of that and had briefed Miriam. ‘He felt it would be hard on any students who’d worked with Professor Strauss. I’m good with languages and have a minor in archaeology.’ Both of those things provided good covers for a spy working in the Middle East and Europe. ‘One of my primary fields of study is Farsi, with some work on the Turkic languages of Central Asia.’
‘That’s a hard field.’
It had been, but Miriam had wanted to be able to speak her father’s native language. He had taught her a lot of it as she’d grown up, and majoring in it at college had appealed to her. ‘I know.’
‘So, are you any good?’
‘Oral or written?’
‘Both.’
‘Yes. Very.’ Miriam smiled when she realized how boastful that sounded. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to sound immodest.’
‘Not at all. I’ve found it’s better to tell people when you’re good. Otherwise, they might not notice.’ With the last of the papers in hand, Lourds stacked them on the desk and glared at the broken chair. ‘I suppose I need to find another one.’
Miriam looked around the ceiling, thinking maybe Lourds had been trying to get something from the top of the bookshelf. ‘Perhaps I can get whatever it is you’re looking for. I’m light enough to climb the bookcase.’ She walked to the bookcase. ‘Something from the top?’
‘Actually, it’s not on the bookcase. It’s above the door.’
Miriam turned and looked at the space over the doorway, then immediately thought Lourds was an idiot. ‘There’s nothing up there.’
‘I believe there is. Come here.’ Lourds motioned her over behind the desk.
Suspicious of the man, as Katsas Shavit had been very thorough regarding Thomas Lourds’s predilections toward the opposite sex, Miriam joined him. Despite her superior’s stern warnings, Miriam couldn’t help noticing how handsome the American professor was. The fading black eye he wore, even though she knew how he got it, made him look like a rough character. He smelled nice, too, some kind of musk she wasn’t familiar with.
‘Look at the wall now.’
Turning back to the wall, ready to break Lourds’s nose if he tried anything, Miriam looked at the area above the doorway. ‘I still don’t see anything.’
Lourds pushed the office chair up. The crushed wheel shrilled in protest. ‘Sit and look again.’
Still uneasy, Miriam sat and looked up at the wall.
Lourds hunkered down beside her and took a small flashlight from his pocket. He switched it on, but Miriam didn’t see a beam. However, a glowing yellow symbol appeared on the wall above the doorway.
Miriam forgot about Lourds at her side and stared at the image. ‘That’s a flying horse.’
‘Yes, it is.’ Lourds put the flashlight back in his pocket. ‘Drawn by Lev Strauss.’
Miriam turned to look at him. Katsas Shavit hadn’t told her to expect any of this. ‘How did you know that was there?’
‘Lev left me a message.’ Lourds nodded at the wall and took a Swiss Tinker knife from his pocket. ‘If you look more closely, you’ll see where a section of that wall was removed.’
Staring more closely at the wall, Miriam realized he was right. There was a section of the wall that looked slightly set apart from the rest of it.
‘Think you can get that section out of there if I give you a boost?’
Miriam stared at him and the naked blade he’d opened from the knife. ‘You want me to take out that wall section?’
‘It’s the only way we’re going to get at what’s behind it.’
‘If we’re caught, we’re going to get into trouble.’
Lourds smiled at her. ‘Dear girl, I’ve been in trouble so often for doing things I shouldn’t be doing that the idea doesn’t even faze me anymore.’
Remembering how Lourds had crossed the bar – however unsteadily – to rescue her that night in Namchee Bazaar, Miriam could almost believe him. However, he wasn’t a trained fighter or survivor. Anyone who didn’t know how to do those things and got into bad situations regularly was a fool.
‘C’mon.’ Lourds’s grin widened. ‘Remember how much graduate work sucks? Grading papers professors don’t want to take the time to grade? Dealing with needy students that aren’t willing to spend time with the books so you have to make sure they understand the material? Being taken for granted and never thanked?’
Those things were all true. Miriam remembered all of them too well.
‘Time to rebel and get a little payback.’ Lourds offered her the knife. ‘Let’s get you up there and at that wall. You get to stick it to the man.’
His grin was infectious, and when he waggled his eyebrows conspiratorially, Miriam couldn’t hold back any longer and smiled back as she took the knife. ‘All right, but instead of a boost, help me push the desk over here.’
‘The desk?’
‘Yes. It’s a lot more sturdy than that chair was.’
‘Oh. Right.’ Lourds looked embarrassed. ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’
‘If you had, maybe you wouldn’t have fallen.’
Lourds feigned disapproval. ‘Careful there, little missy. Now that I know I have the desk, I may decide that I don’t need your help at all.’
Lourds leaned against the desk and pushed. The piles of books and papers shuddered as the desk scooted across the floor, but they didn’t turn into an avalanche.
With a lithe motion, her curiosity singing, Miriam stepped up onto the desk. She thought about all the stories she’d recently watched about Lourds’s discovery of the temple in the Himalayas. Katsas Shavit hadn’t told her much about what the American professor was working on, or what Lev Strauss had been involved with, but it had to be archaeological in nature.
When she’d been a little girl, before she’d learned that both her parents were Mossad spies, she’d dreamed of discovering lost civilizations. Well, not actually historical civilizations. Her interests had been focused more on locating fairy worlds and portals to other dimensions and chasing down impossible magical items in underground labyrinths. Those things now seemed so much safer than what she did currently.
She was all too aware that some young child self she’d thought locked away had come barreling back as she poked and pried at the wall section. Lourds paced the floor like an expectant father in an old cartoon.
‘It shouldn’t be that hard to get into. Lev wouldn’t have wanted to make this difficult. He’d only have wanted to make it a challenge to see. That’s what he did, you know. If I hadn’t sat in that chair, if I hadn’t had the blacklight flashlight, I wouldn’t have found that symbol.’
Miriam ignored him and concentrated on the task at hand. Bits of paper, painter’s tape, and plaster all scraped free as she dragged the blade along the edge of the section. She blew gently to clear the dust so she could make sure she followed the precut dimensions.
Gradually, the wall section stood framed against the rest of the wall. She drove the blade through the crevice, angled it, and put pressure on the handle. The section popped free of the wall and headed for the floor. Without thinking, she reached down and caught it.
‘Good hands, Miriam.’ Lourds took the wall section from her and placed it on the desk. ‘We’ll want to put that back when we’re finished.’
‘Do you seriously think no one’s going to notice that someone cut a hole in this wall?’
‘I’m really hoping not to be here when someone does. What’s inside?’
Miriam reached into the hole and found a fat book. She brought it out with difficulty because it barely fit in the hiding place. The faint layer of dust on it told her that it hadn’t been there long.
The book was an odd shape, about twice the size of a regular hardcover novel, and the paper seemed inordinately white for something that otherwise looked antique. A thick green leather cover bound it, and gold corner pieces protected the corners. Mesmerized, Miriam opened the book and examined the pages.
The paper was pristine and thick. Its rag content was high, and she remembered from her classes that the old paper that had been made hundreds of years ago had been made to last. She’d seen and inspected books that had been made of the same kind of paper.
Instead of type, handwriting filled the pages. Whoever had written the book had possessed a fine, strong hand. The swirls and loops and angles hinted that the language was Arabic, but Miriam couldn’t quite fathom what was written.
‘May I?’ Lourds reached up impatiently.
‘Of course. Sorry.’ Miriam started to hand him the book, then hauled it back into her arms. ‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t looked at it yet.’
‘Aren’t you going to tell President Jacob or the institute about it?’
‘Not unless it becomes necessary.’
‘This isn’t your book.’
‘No, it’s Lev’s, and he left it for me.’
‘How do I know that?’
Lourds took the flashlight out of his pocket and waved it meaningfully. ‘Other people would have had it by now if they’d been meant to have it. Lev left that book for me to find.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he couldn’t translate it. He thought I could.’
‘Can you?’
Lourds frowned at her. ‘I’m not a clairvoyant, nor am I a telepath. I’ll have to look at it if I’m going to answer that question.’
Irritably, Miriam handed the book to him. She fully expected him to take it and bolt. Instead, he placed the book on the desk and put his hands on her waist to help her down from the desk.
‘I could have managed.’
‘Probably.’ Lourds placed her on the ground, then took up the book. He flipped through pages, then scowled and looked up at her. ‘Want to play hooky?’
‘What?’
‘Ditch school.’ Lourds leaned a hip against the desk and slowly showed it back to about where it had been. The broken chair listed sideways behind it. ‘I want to get out of here.’
‘I was told you just got here.’
‘Now I’ve got what I came for.’ Lourds had to shift things in his backpack, but he made room for the book.
‘What about Professor Strauss’s room? I thought we were supposed to clean it.’
‘Later. Right now, we try to figure out the book. And I don’t want to do that here.’ Lourds picked up his hat and backpack, putting on the former and slipping into the other.
‘Then where?’
‘A nice, secluded, quiet place that serves beer.’
36
Little Jerusalem Restaurant
Ticho House
9, Harav Kook Street
Jerusalem, the State of Israel
August 9, 2010
When the charming young hostess guided them to their table, Lourds pulled out Miriam Abata’s chair. The young graduate student looked at him for a moment, obviously making her mind up about something, then sat.
‘Thank you.’
‘Sorry if I offended.’ Lourds put his backpack on one of the other chairs at the small table in the open-air section of the restaurant. He sat across from Miriam and placed his hat on the back of the chair with his backpack.
‘You didn’t offend.’
‘I pulled your chair out. You hesitated. Obviously, that didn’t suit you.’
‘I’m suspicious of men who pull my chair out. Generally they have an agenda.’
Gazing at the young woman, taking in her café au lait complexion, striking hazel-green eyes, and smooth jawline, Lourds felt certain a lot of young men had known her and ended up with ‘agendas.’ The blue-and-white stripe in her black hair really set off her look, and the jeans and blouse revealed that she was athletic. She looked familiar, but he was certain he’d never met her before.
‘No agenda. I was merely being polite.’
Miriam took one of the breadsticks from the basket on the table and deliberately snapped it in half before taking a bite. ‘That’s good.’
‘We’re just going to have a meal.’ Lourds took the thick book from his backpack. ‘I’m going to look over this book and Lev’s notes.’
‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘Keep an eye out for me.’
She frowned. ‘What?’
‘I tend to get involved in my reading. I need you to make sure I’m safe. That we’re safe.’ Lourds paused and pumped up the gravitas in his voice. ‘Whatever this book contains, I believe it’s part of the reason Lev was killed. According to the message he sent me, he couldn’t read it.’
‘Can you?’
‘Not yet. But I will.’ Lourds wondered why she didn’t ask about the potential for danger. That was the part he thought would scare her off.
‘You think you’re in danger?’
‘I think that possibly anyone connected with this book is in danger.’
Miriam took another small bite of her breadstick. ‘So who should I look for?’
‘Men with rocket launchers. Assault rifles. Grenades. Guns. Knives. Work your way back from that. Anyone who shows undue interest in us.’
She grinned at him, seemingly delighted in spite of herself. ‘You’re deliberately being provocative.’
Lourds gave her his full attention. ‘Miriam, please believe me: provocative or not, I’m telling you the truth. Do you know what happened to Lev?’
‘He was killed by terrorists.’
‘Do you believe that story?’
‘Why not?’
‘Did you know Lev?’
‘No.’
Lourds took a deep breath. Talking about Lev hurt. ‘For a “terrorist” attack, there was surprisingly little collateral damage. Besides Lev, the only people that apparently got killed were the terrorists themselves. Germans or Europeans, from the pictures I saw and from the media reports. Not Middle Easterners, as you might expect here in Jerusalem.’
Intrigued, Miriam lowered her voice and leaned closer. ‘You might try using your inside voice.’
Self-consciously, Lourds glanced around. Little Jerusalem Restaurant had inside seating and outside, where they were. The tables sat on flagstones and buffet tables ringed the dining area. A small stage area where live bands performed later in the evening was just outside the main building. Below that, a ridge of flowers – mums, daisies, and others Lourds couldn’t identify – showed spectacularly in a long rectangular section.
‘I wasn’t talking that loud.’
‘Your voice carries.’
‘Oh.’ Lourds shrugged. ‘One of the downsides of being a frequent lecturer. As I was saying, Lev’s death by terrorist is suspicious.
At least to me. In his life, there wasn’t much he came in contact with that would have led to him being targeted by someone. He had to have found something of value. For the moment, all I know for sure is that he had this book. He left me messages, one in Jerusalem and the other in Vienna – though he didn’t suspect it would be there – that led me to this book.’
Her gaze dropped to the leather-bound volume.
‘If this is what people are willing to kill for, and we have it, we’re in danger. Do you understand?’
Miriam nodded. ‘Why haven’t you gone to the police with this?’
Lourds sighed. ‘Because the police have rules. They’re as bad as college administrations and other forms of bureaucracy. If I tell them what we’ve got, they’re going to want to step in and manage it. The first thing they’ll do is take away the book and send it to other specialists who know languages.’
‘If the book is that important, maybe that’s what should happen.’
Lourds scowled at her. ‘If Lev couldn’t figure out this book, there are precious few other people in the world who could. If he thought I was the only one capable of it, who am I to disagree with his reasoning?’
‘I guess there’s no ego in that assumption, is there?’
‘Of course there is. If I wasn’t egotistical to some degree, I wouldn’t even try to work with this in the first place.’
Miriam held her hands up in surrender. ‘All right. You’re the guy who just found a lost temple in the Himalayas. Let’s go with the possibility that you’re the person for this job.’
‘I am.’
‘Then why me?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Why ask me to help you?’
‘I thought I just explained that.’
‘No. You didn’t.’
Lourds held up a finger. ‘One, you’re not part of the University of Jerusalem hierarchy.’ He added another finger. ‘Two, you’re not a police officer.’ And he added another finger. ‘Three, you have some experience with Arabic languages, which – if I’m correct about the origins of this book – will come in handy. I don’t have that many friends who can do what I’m asking you to do.’
‘You don’t even know if you can trust me.’
Lourds smiled. ‘Dear girl, I don’t trust anyone, but I have to trust someone.’
The Temple Mount Code Page 22
