In the Beginning: Mars Origin "I" Series Book I (10 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY

Jerusalem,
Israel

It was taking forever to get to the hotel.
The awe and wonder I experienced just a month or so ago traveling this route
wasn’t there. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window and just
stared out.

“So, what am I going to do now?” I only
meant to think it but I said it out loud. Evidently too loudly. 

Claire nudged me, she placed her index
finger up to her lips and said “Shhh,” and pointed to Greg.

“Okay, okay,” I lowered my voice. “Maybe
Ghazi knows something. Have you talked to him about this?” He was always on top
of things, maybe he could help.

“Yes,” she said dreamingly, placing her
hand over her chest.

“Yeeessss,” I mimicked her gestures and
response. “What does that mean?”

“I think he’s kind of salacious.”

I laughed at her. “Do you even know what
that word means?” She couldn’t have realized what she was saying.

Greg looked back at the two of us. “What
are you two talking about back there?” he asked accusingly. We both just
giggled. Greg rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Michael, you better watch those two.”

I looked at Greg. I suppose I shouldn’t
make him angry with me and Claire. When he finds out about the journals being
missing, he’ll be upset enough. I had him fly half way around the world for
nothing.

“Okay. So, you talked to Ghazi? What did
he say?” I whispered. “Did you two talk about the missing journals?”

“Yes.” She didn’t say anything else.

“And? Come on now. Don’t make me have to
ask you every detail. Just tell me the whole conversation. What did he say?”

“He said he didn’t know anything about
them being moved or destroyed or anything. He said that of course he would help
us any way he could and for you to call him when you got here.  He gave me a
number for you to call.” She started digging around in her purse for the
number.

“Don’t worry about looking for it now. 
Just give it to me when we get to the hotel. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Tell you what?”

“What he said.”

“Before what?”

“Before now. Like when I first got here.
When I first got off the plane. When you told me the journals were missing. Why
didn’t you tell me at any of those times?”

“I did.” She looked at the face I was
making. “Well, I’m telling you now,” she said.

“Never mind, Claire.”

I returned to my silent gaze out of the
window. Claire told Michael and Greg about the seminar and all the souvenirs
she bought. The three of them laughed and talked. I didn’t say a word the rest
of the way to the hotel.

We stayed at the same hotel I stayed in
when I came for the seminar. I knew Greg would appreciate it just as I had.
Greg and Michael shared a suite and I stayed in Claire’s room. Once we got to
the rooms, I went in to take a bath. I really needed to think. I told Claire to
call Ghazi while I was in the tub to see if he found out anything else. Maybe
he had a plan, because I definitely didn’t.

Claire had about ten candles in the
bathroom and some exotic smelling bath oil and bubble bath. After her little
comment about Ghazi I was afraid to ask her why she had that stuff.

I heard her dialing the phone. Maybe, I
thought, I should supervise that phone call. “Salacious,” I giggled. The things
that come out of that girl’s mouth.

I lit the candles and ran a tub of hot
water with lots of bubbles. I undressed and slid into the tub. It felt so
relaxing. I just sat there for a long time and played with the bubbles. Then I
leaned back and rested my head on the back of the tub. I closed my eyes and
watched as each and every word that Dr. Yeoman had written in his journal come
dancing before me. The words came to my mind as clear as day. Taunting me. Some
words seemed more clear than others - - like ‘destroy’ and ‘disturbing
revelation.’ I watched them shimmy and shake and march around like a drum
majorette.

Claire opened the door and came into the
bathroom. The words from the journal slid down into the bubbles, popping as
they hit.

“You sleeping in the tub?” She came over
and sat on the side of the tub.

“No.” I opened my eyes. “I wasn’t sleep.
Here, wash my back.” I handed her the soap and washcloth and leaned forward.

“You talk to Ghazi?” I asked. I knew she
had, but it seemed she wasn’t going to tell me anything without some prodding.

She moved the cloth in circular motions.
“Yeah,” she said, again with that dreamy voice.

“Have you been on the phone with him all
this time?”

I turned and looked up at her. She smiled
and said nothing. She rinsed the soap from the washcloth and let the water run
down my back as she squeezed the cloth.

“Well, have you?” I persisted.

“Do you want to know what he said about
the journals?” She tried to change the subject.

“Oh, so now you’re keeping secrets,” I
said.

She smiled. “Do you want to know what he
said or not?”

“What did he say, Claire?” I conceded.  I
wasn’t getting any juicy information from her.  So back to business.

“He told me that they had moved the books
to the Giv’at Ram Campus. He said that they didn’t move the books because of
any suspicion, and that he doesn’t think that anyone knows what you found in
those books.  He said they created an archive for the history of the project
because during the fifty-year anniversary celebration, you know the one you
came to? Well, a lot of people donated things that they had or one of their
family members had that had worked on the Scrolls or people that had some kind
of dealings with them over the years. Things like journals, personal belongings
of the scholars, things like that. Someone even had one of the clay pots the
Scrolls were found in. Isn’t that like theft or something?” She looked at me. I
looked back with pursed lips and blinked my eyes repeatedly. I guess she
figured out I didn’t care what the heck was going on. I just wanted to know
about the journals.

“Anyway,” she said “everything was put
away until they could actually ready a place to exhibit all the donations.”

“So, they weren’t trying to hide them?”

“Nope. Ghazi said Dr. Yeoman’s wife had
donated those journals some years back and they had left them in that office
because that was his office. No one had ever donated anything at that time so
they just kept them in the file cabinets. Did you know he was an alumnus of this
University?”

There she goes with that extraneous
information again. I hunched my shoulders and let out a heavy sigh.

“Anyway,” she said, louder this time,
“they needed the office for something else, no, I think they were going to
paint it - - or something, I don’t remember but they moved the books to the
other campus with the other things that people donated. No big mystery.”

“No big mystery?” I practically shouted
and made a big splash in the water. “It still doesn’t explain why Dr. Yeoman
destroyed the manuscripts. We still have to figure that out.” I was annoyed at
her comment. I got out of the tub, splattering water everywhere. I hoped some
got on her. I grabbed a towel and went into the next room and started to get
dressed for dinner.

As soon as I started to dry off I
immediately felt bad about being so short with Claire, although she did kind of
deserve it for being so mysterious about Ghazi and making me dig for answers.
Still, I should try to do better. It doesn’t seem to bother her, though. I heard
her in there letting the water out of the tub and cleaning up my big mess. But
before we met Greg and Michael for dinner, I did remember to thank her for all
her help. I was really glad she came.

We met Greg and Michael at the hotel
restaurant. I told them about the journals being moved to start an archive of
some sort, and everything else that Ghazi had told Claire. I explained that the
Giv’at Ram Campus was part of the Hebrew University and was located in West
Jerusalem.

“So then, they didn’t even realize there
was a possibility that something disturbing might be in the journals.” Michael
said.

“Can you believe it?” I shook my head.
“Something as important as this and no one knows. Or, at least acting as if
they don’t know.”

“So, Justin,” Michael said, “that means
you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing you. They’re not trying to cover up
anything.”

“Dr. Yeoman was,” I reminded him.
Although, he was kind of right, I had to admit maybe this whole thing wasn’t as
surreptitious as I first thought.

“Dr. Yeoman was fifty year ago,” he said,
“I’m talking about today. Justin, this is better,” he continued, “because now
you can find out the things you want to know and you don’t have to sneak around
to do it, right?”

“Right. I guess.” I still wasn’t completely
convinced.

“If no one is worried about these
documents, maybe there is nothing to them,” Greg said. “Kind of blows your
theory about murder and mayhem doesn’t it?”

Claire and Michael started to laugh. I
glared at Claire. She tucked her head and tried to muffle her laughter.

“Yes, there is something to this,” I said.
“There’s more to this than meets the eye, believe me.”

I knew it was. I had a gut feeling about
this.

Over dinner we made plans to go over to
the Giv’at Ram Campus the next day after Claire came from the seminar. Greg
couldn’t understand why we all had to go now that he was convinced that all the
evidence pointed to no cover-up. I told him that he must not remember the
television show
Mission Impossible
. There was always a “team” that went
in on the assignment.

Greg shook his head, “I told you, Justin,
you watch too much TV.”

Ghazi had found out exactly where the
journals were being kept.

We met him the next day at the campus
about five o’clock in the evening. I figured he needed to come just in case the
room was locked. He could stand sentinel at the door for us as well. Plus, I
felt more comfortable with him there.

I had brought Michael janitorial-looking
clothes so he could carry the copier in without looking suspicious, figuring he
would look more like a maintenance guy just moving equipment. Greg wouldn’t let
him put them on. He snatched them out of my hand when I attempted to give them
to Michael and just shook his head. I started to protest, but I wouldn’t have
won that argument. It didn’t matter, we probably looked suspicious anyway. We
didn’t exactly fit in a place normally filled with Jews. At least Ghazi looked
as if he belonged.

There were very few people at the
University, and luckily no one on the floor where the journals were. We found
the notebooks and I read the entry out loud to everyone.

“Is this why we came half way around the
world? For this small entry in a journal?” Greg seemed agitated. He acted as if
he didn’t understand how important this “small entry” was.

“No. We came so I could find the
manuscripts that Dr. Yeoman was talking about in the journal. Or at least the
translation of it, if in fact he did destroy the originals. So, everyone grab a
journal and look through it and see if you can find anything suspicious.”

“How will
we
know what’s
suspicious, Justin? We don’t know anything about this,” Greg complained.

“Use your common sense. It’s all in plain
English.”

“How about if we look for diaries of the
guy who translated it, the one you said was murdered,” Michael offered.

“Now, there’s an idea,” Greg folded him
arms and waited for my answer.

 “I don’t know his name.”

“You’ve got this guy getting killed right
smack dab in the middle of a conspiracy that, per you, will rock the entire
world, and you don’t even know his name?” Greg said. He stood with his arms
crossed and his brow furrowed.

 “Please, just help me look,” I said. Greg
whispered something to Michael and they both shot a look at me. One look at my
pitiful face and Michael seemed to swallow the laugh just about to erupt, but
his face still had that shadow of a smirk.

As I leafed through the pages of Dr.
Yeoman’s journal, the paper that was stuck in the leaves of the pages fell out
just like it did the day I showed the journal to Dr. Margulies. It fell to the
floor and Greg picked it, flipped it over and back and handed it to me. This
time I looked at it. The paper was folded over and had been sealed with wax. It
had never been opened and from the condition of the paper I could tell that it
was very old. I opened it up and read it.

October
22, 1949

The group of four manuscripts found in
Cave No. 4 does not appear Biblical in content, or sound in discourse. I do not
know the origins of these documents. I cannot begin to understand the mind of a
man who would write such things and place them among the sacraments of God. But
that is where they were found and that is where I will return them. To the
earth from where they hailed.

I have yet to speak of what was written in
the documents, and I dare not write it for fear the information will cause
great pains to mankind. I have written in my journal the events of the day as I
have done every day since I started on this project. However, in my journal I
did not give the whereabouts of the manuscripts. It will take the extra step of
finding this letter to find the manuscripts and if no one finds this letter,
then no one will know. I will place it in a most obvious place. People are not
curious about the obvious. It will be safer that way. This is my way of hiding
the documents and not destroying history.

The manuscripts are curious in that they,
apart from all the other manuscripts, have remained intact. They are not
fragmented, yet they were found among the other manuscripts. The parchment and
the ink appear to be the same. They have withstood the weather of time quite
remarkably. They are different as they contain three different languages,
written not within sections but within each line as to encode its secrets.
Whoever comes across this letter and finds the manuscripts will know which they
are from that description.

I cannot in any good conscience destroy
these manuscripts. I have taken an oath to preserve our history. But I cannot
let the world find out what is contained within them. The remaining fragments
will be renumbered. There are hundreds. It will be under my direction and no
one working on the project will know that these were ever numbered with the
other Scrolls. These manuscripts, which are presently numbered Q4:109-112, will
be returned to the cave where they have kept their secrets for thousands of
years. Hopefully that is where they will remain.

I write this letter so there is some
documentation of the manuscripts’ whereabouts. There has never been any
knowledge of their contents before, as far as I know, but they were left in my
care and I feel that I at least have this obligation.

Perhaps one day the world will be able to
handle the information contained within these manuscripts. But not today. Not
now.