by Adam Palmer
Chapter 30
“This really isn’t a good idea Daniel.”
“Why? If we use a mobile they can’t trace it.”
“They can.”
“Only if they know I’m going to call him, which I very much doubt.”
Daniel and Sarit were arguing. He was holding the mobile phone that he had found there. She wondered whether she could take it from him by force. She was well trained in Krav Maga. But he looked pretty fit and could probably fight too if he had to. Besides, it wasn’t her duty to protect him from himself. Now that he had given them the file, he had no further obligations towards them — or they to him. If he wanted to put himself in jeopardy, that was his right. Except of course, that she might then have to leave.
She decided to explain it to him more clearly.
“Look, if you call him, they can’t trace it now. But you don’t know how he’s going to react. If he tells the police then they’ll go round and get his phone details and then get the phone company to provide them with the records. Then they’ll go to the mobile phone company and do a trace to see which ground stations and relay stations the call went through.”
“Yes, but if I withhold the caller ID with 141 then they won’t be able to get the number of this phone. So they won’t know what to trace.”
“Trust me, they can.”
“Okay, but I need to contact him.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you what I’ll do… Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll arrange with Dovi to route a computer call through Israel.
Five minutes later he was making the call.
“Professor Hynds speaking.”
Edward Hynds, Emeritus Professor of Archaeology at the University of Cambridge was leading the dig at the site in Arbury Banks.
“Hallo Professor Hynds, my name is Daniel Klein. I’m a Professor of Semitic Languages at UCL.”
“Yes,” said Hynds cautiously.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard of me but — ”
“Do you mean your ‘ancient’ Egyptian adventures or your more recent ones with the police?”
And with that the ice was broken.
“I guess that means you’ve heard of both.”
“It would have been very hard not to.”
“First of all, I should explain that I had nothing to do with the death of Martin Costa. I mean I was there when the fire started — I was lured into a trap — but I didn’t kill him.”
“It wouldn’t make any difference to me if you did. He was a boil on the backside of humanity and his death was no great loss to humanity in general or the academic community in particular.”
Daniel felt relieved.
“I assume then that he wasn’t part of the official dig team.”
“Lord no! I wouldn’t have let him come within a mile of the dig. And if I’d known that he had an interest in the subject, I would have taken out an injunction against him.”
“So he didn’t openly approach the site.”
“Again, certainly not.”
“How would he have been able to get his hands on an artefact from the site?”
“Well first of all, any potentially valuable items from the site are taken immediately under tight security back to Cambridge.”
Daniel interrupted to tell the professor about the picture of the manuscript Costa had sent by SMS. Hynds picked up the thread, speaking in a tone that Daniel noticed was quite slow and measured, as if he were a man to weigh up each word carefully before letting it pass his lips. There was also a kind of baritone depth to the professor’s vocal pitch.
“That’s what I’m coming to. A few days before the incident that you got caught up in, we had a night-time breach of security at the dig site. The ground had been disturbed and it was clear that one particular area was dug considerably deeper than the others. It appears that some one was looking for something very specific — and based on what you’ve just told me, it looks like they found it.”
“Can I ask you this professor: although the manuscript appears to have some Hebrew letters on it, I can’t be sure that it is actually Hebrew… or Aramaic. What I was wondering is what are the chances that the manuscript Costa found might have been written in some local British language and alphabet?”
Hynds thought about this for a few seconds before responding.
“The local Brythonic tribes — Iceni and Trinovantes — didn’t have any writing systems of their own. I mean not at the time when we believe this site dates to. We believe that the site may have started in the late bronze age, but continued into the early iron age about two thousand years ago. Local writing systems came later.”
“What about the priestly classes?”
“In due time, the Druids developed a writing system. But throughout the time period this site was used — as far as we know — they relied on their great oral tradition.”
“But surely the more educated among them would have developed some sort of writing skill. I mean in most societies, the political leaders, the kings and feudal overlords, would have needed a writing system for bureaucratic purposes.”
Again, Hynds held his tongue for a few seconds, to give a more considered answer.
“Well of course many of the people spoke Latin. Not just the leaders. Britannia been occupied since 43 AD. And within ten years of that, the more educated among the Britons — kings and leaders — could read and write in Latin as well. But it goes without saying that they used the Roman alphabet for that purpose. They would have had no reason to write Latin in any other alphabet, even if they’d had one.”
“And presumably they also didn’t write their own local languages in the Roman alphabet.”
“There’s never yet been a case of such writings being found. Now admittedly, we haven’t really discovered any writing dating back to that period — other than the writing on coins which is always in Latin. Anything written on papyrus or parchment hasn’t survived. And they didn’t write on stele like the Egyptians or clay tablets like the Sumerians and Akkadians.”
“So what sort of things do you discover at these digs?”
“Most of the archaeological finds in Romano-British sites were metallic, wood, ceramic or leather: coins, weapons, pottery and jewellery. In this case, we haven’t find any coins or jewellery thus far, just pottery fragments and some armour pieces — certainly no manuscripts.”
“So if a manuscript were to be found?”
“Well if it was ‘found’ by Martin I Costa, my first suspicion would be that it was a forgery.”
“But you said there had been an intruder at the dig site.”
“Yes. Which leads me to my second point. If it isn’t a forgery — and if it is in Hebrew script — then it would be the find of the century.”
Chapter 31
“It’s hard to find a precise routine because it’s the school holidays.”
“But is it the mother who’s usually with them?”
“Yes? During the day. They sometimes meet up with the father after work, but usually their mother just takes them home by then.”
Baruch Tikva was telling his father the results of his attempts at surveillance on Daniel Klein’s sister and nieces.
“So when they’re out and about, it’s with their mother only.”
“Most of the time, yes.
“And you know where they live?”
“Yes.”
“But they never go to the same place twice.”
“Not on their outdoor outings. However, one thing I have established is that three times a week, the mother takes the youngest one to a gymnastics class.”
“And does she stay with her while she’s there?”
“No she leaves her there and takes the others either to the coffee shop or the park.”
“Okay, now how easy is it driving around that area?”
“Well the roads are okay because the traffic wardens are very active and aggressive around that area.”
“Do they clamp the cars or just ticket them?”
“Ticket them.”
“Okay, and where is this gymnastics place?”
“It’s in a place called Chalk Farm… near a busy area called Camden Town.”
“Okay now can you rent a place near there, at short notice, that’s well hidden and that can be soundproofed?”
“I’ve already checked it out. I can rent something called a lockup at short notice. It’s like a big garage. And I can sound proof it, no trouble.”
“Okay, I want you to rent one of those…”
“Lockups.”
“And sound proof it. Then kidnap the youngest. And make sure you’re not caught!”
Chapter 32
“Don’t you think that’s pushing it just a bit?”
“I need to speak to him.”
Daniel and Sarit had been at the safe house for twenty four hours now and Sarit was getting a bit tired of babysitting. But it was taking time for the bureaucrats to get things in motion, squaring it with their British counterparts about Daniel. They had the evidence of the phone messages but they weren’t sure if it was enough. And also they wanted to find out exactly what Shomrei Ha’ir were up to.
So Sarit and Daniel had killed time, playing chess — Daniel winning about two games in three — while waiting for the results of the image enhancement that was being done back in Israel. Daniel was finding it hard to stop fantasizing about Sarit, even though he knew that they both had to keep it professional. She would not take kindly to romantic overtures in this context and he knew it.
The age difference didn’t bother him, and he suspected that it wouldn’t bother her either. But when he had been in Israel the last time, he had picked up on the fact that she had a thing for Dovi and he knew that if it wasn’t for her field work and a probable rule against in-house relationships, the pair of them would probably be an item.
Just now, Daniel had told Sarit that he needed to phone his lawyer and he requested that she again route the call through Israel.
“Look there’s a big difference between talking to your lawyer and talking to a stranger.”
“I know,” said Daniel. “A stranger owes me nothing. My lawyer has a duty to act in my best interests. It’s covered by privilege.”
“Oh, are you a lawyer?”
“No, but everyone knows that lawyer’s have privilege.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Being an escaped prisoner could be construed as an ongoing criminal offence. He might be legally obliged to report it. Even if he can’t reveal your whereabouts, he might be obliged to reveal the fact that you made contact.”
“I won’t tell him my whereabouts. And as for the fact of making contact, I don’t care if they know that — just as long as they can’t trace us.”
Sarit could see that he wasn’t going to back down and — again — it was his call.”
“Okay.” She said.
Once again it took a few minutes to set up the call.
“Hi Peter, it’s Daniel — Daniel Klein.”
“Daniel! Where are you?”
“Never mind that. Listen, there’s something I want you to do for me.”
“What?”
“I want you to get the witness statements and the pathology report and — ”
“I’ve already got them.”
“Are they in digital form?”
“No, they’re on paper. Why?”
“Okay listen I’ll be very brief. I want you to scan them and eMail them to me. You’ve got my eMail address.”
“Okay I can do that. But you know they’re probably monitoring your eMail box and can track where you — ”
“Yes I know that but don’t worry. Let me worry about that.”
Daniel’s plan was to ask Sarit to get Dovi or some one at the Mossad to download it and then resend it to another eMail address that he would set up or to hers so that she could access it from here. But there was no reason to share this information with Hackett.
“Okay. I’ll get my secretary to do that right away. But I must tell you as your solicitor that what you did was extremely foolish and puts you in a lot more trouble.”
“You mean escaping?”
“Well obviously I mean escaping. Look this isn’t just a single killing any more. It’s now the murder of two guards as well — and injury to a third.”
“Look I had nothing to do with that. Those guys were trying to kill me!”
“I know that!”
Daniel’s suspicions were alerted.
“Know that? How?”
“The same way the police do. The third guard survived. He was badly injured but he survived. He told them that the man in black — the man with the gun — was apparently trying to kill you.”
“Then they know I’m innocent!”
“Of the killing of the guards yes. And they figured that it wasn’t a planned escape — or at least that you didn’t plan it. But I’ll tell you one thing. You’re lucky those were private guards. Because if they’d been coppers, they wouldn’t give a flying fig if you were in it or not! They’d be baying for blood. By the way, who was the guy on the motorbike?”
“The… motorbike?”
“The guard who survived told the police that when the man in black was about to shoot you, he was rammed by some one on a motorbike. And then you leapt on the motorbike and rode off into the sunset.”
“Did they get the number of the motorbike?”
“You trying to cover your arse maybe?”
“You could put it like that.”
Daniel wondered if Hackett was picturing the wry smile on his face.
“If they did, they didn’t tell me.”
“So for all they know, it could just have been a good Samaritan.”
Hackett chuckled.
“They might have thought that, if the third guard hadn’t survived or hadn’t been conscious and seen what happened. But then you’d be in the doghouse. Anyway, according to the guard, this guy on the bike had a gun and used it very effectively to take out two of the attackers. The police would have loved to interview them and find out who they were working for. But unfortunately, they’ve shuffled off this mortal coil, thanks to your friend with the revolver. Whoever that guy on the bike was, he’s a pro. Be careful.”
“I will.”
Sarit had explained that she used a revolver because it was less likely to jam and because it retained the cartridges from the bullets. It didn’t have a safety, but like every pro, she kept her hammer chamber empty.
“Are you still with him?” asked Hackett. “Or did he just drop you off somewhere?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Probably just as well. Saves me from being put on the spot.”
“Okay there’s one other thing. Can you ask the police — as discreetly as possible — if they searched Martin Costa’s house and if they found anything that looked like it might be an ancient manuscript on parchment of papyrus?”
“You mean like the one he sent you a picture of?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, I’ll ask them. But I have a feeling that might alert them to the fact that you contacted me.”
Chapter 33
Dovi was speed-reading yet another report from a field agent when the call came through from the Urim monitoring station.
“We’ve got an audio intercept from Shalom Tikva’s phone. We’re sending it through now.”
“Why the call?”
“It’s urgent. Something about kidnapping one of Daniel Klein’s nieces.”
Dovi’s fingers sprang into action, calling up the transcript, not bothering with the audio. His other hand was calling Sarit at the safe house.
“Hallo Sarit,” he said quietly. “Listen don’t react overtly, but is Daniel in the room?”
There was a second’s hesitation.
“Yes.”
The hesitation was presumably a warning not to speak to loud. That meant that he was close to her.
“Listen, we haven’t any time to lo
se. I’ve just had a call from Urim. They picked up a call between the Tikvas, father and son.”
“Local?”
“The father’s here. The son is still in your neck of the woods. Anyway the point is — and stay calm when you hear this — they’re planning on trying to kidnap Daniel’s youngest niece. I believe her name is Romy. She’s five.”
“What!”
She was about to add “The bastards” when Dovi spoke again.
“I like your way of not reacting.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, the position is this. We can tell the local police but then they’ll swoop in on the family and it’ll tip the bad guys off that we’ve got them under surveillance. At the moment they don’t even suspect.”
“But we can’t take risks with a — ”
“Don’t talk, just listen. We are going to tell the Metropolitan Police. As you say it’s too serious not to. They’ll probably have to put the whole family under protection because from the way they were talking, little Romy was merely their first choice. But the problem is that until the intercept was transcribed and flagged, Bar Tikva had time to make some of the arrangements. I’m going to put some procedures in place to reduce the lead time on these intercept messages from Urim involving Klein and his family. But in the meantime, it looks like time is of the essence.”
“Have you got his whereabouts?”
Even as they were speaking Dovi was using one hand to peck away at the keyboard and manipulate the mouse, calling up the historic trace report on Baruch Tikva’s mobile phone. He could broaden it to the precise location every fifteen seconds, or create a line on a map of varying scale. The intensity of the line also flagged areas where Tikva had stayed for a long time. He noticed one at Chalk Farm in London, a north-central area close to Camden Town, which he knew well.
“Right now he’s in transit going south from Golders Green. He also seems to have spent some time at an address in Chalk Farm. I’m zooming in on it now with Google Maps and going into Street View.”
“Can you see it?” asked Sarit impatiently.
