Secret of the Scroll (Greg McKenzie Mysteries) (22 page)

I opened my bag, pushed the scroll can aside and took out my shaving kit. Then I washed my hands in preparation for heading down to the dining room. I had hardly hung up the towel when the telephone rang.

“Hello.”

“Welcome to
Israel
, Colonel McKenzie,” said a pleasant-sounding man.

It was starting already. “Who is this?”

“Just call me Moriah,” he said.

My heart skipped a beat.

“The
Temple
Alliance
?”

“You surprised us by arriving so soon. We should have realized from your background how resourceful you are.”

And I should have stayed alert. I shouldn’t have put the Hotel Patriarch on that visa slip. My first failure had resulted in Jill’s abduction. Now if I didn’t smarten up, I could get her killed.

“I would like to speak to my wife and make certain she’s all right,” I said.

“She is fine,” said Moriah. “You may speak with her in due time. Get a good night’s sleep and we will talk in the morning. Shalom!”

I now had serious doubts that the parchment scroll was safe here. I decided to get out of the Patriarch.

Chapter
29

If Moriah were like his buddies Zalman and Lipkowitz, he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate both me and Jill if he could get his hands on the scroll. I stared at the telephone book, an idea forming. But first I had to get around the fact that the listings were undecipherable . . . they were in Hebrew.

I called the front desk clerk and explained that I wanted to reach the tour guide who had been with us at the hotel a couple of weeks ago.

“What was his name?” she asked.

“Jacob Cohen.”

“Oh, yes. I know Mr. Cohen. I should have his number right here. Hold on.”

I waited, wondering if Moriah had my phone bugged, then decided he hadn’t had enough time. Not true, really, but I had to gamble. Moments later I heard the familiar voice of the man with the staff.

“Jake. This is Greg McKenzie from
Nashville
. I don’t know if you remember–”

“How could I forget? That worry wart Wolfson has called me twice in the last twenty-four hours.”

“About what?”

“About you and your problems. He didn’t make a lot of sense. Something about a document and some people with your wife. He had heard you were on your way over here, and he thought you might contact me. Said I was probably the only person in
Israel
you knew.”

The shock waves were hitting me broadside. Where did David Wolfson hear that I was on the way to
Israel
, and who else might know? I wasn’t surprised that David didn’t go into much detail on the telephone, knowing his background with the National Security Agency. The guys at NSA routinely record overseas phone calls and use computers to ferret out key words, things like “bomb” and “hostage,” which are followed up by turning the transcripts over to intelligence or law enforcement agencies. Congress recently got upset over reports of NSA’s domestic phone snooping. They heard such stories as the secretary who got questioned after a conversation in which she mentioned that her boss’s son got “bombed” the night before. She was referring to his basketball team. I had heard the Israelis operated a similar game on a smaller scale.

“Did he mention the
Temple
Alliance
?” I asked.

“No, but I had an idea that was what he was referring to. David tends to talk in circles. I’m sure it comes from dealing with this Bible codes business.”

“Did he say anything about the codes?”

“He hinted at it and said to be sure I had you call him as soon as possible. He was really worked up over something. Where are you now?”

“I’m at the Hotel Patriarch, but I’m getting out. Some people are aware I’m here.”

“Now you’re sounding like David,” said Jake. “But if you want to move somewhere else, I can help.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“No problem. I’m between tour groups. As you know, we’re not getting too many these days. If you want to move now, I could be down there in twenty minutes.”

After hanging up, I stuffed things back into my bag, zipped it and locked it, then headed for the elevator. I stopped at the front desk and explained to the clerk that a friend had unexpectedly invited me to stay with him so I was checking out.

I wheeled my bag through the arched entrance and happily found myself alone on the narrow paved plaza at the front of the hotel. There I watched for Jake’s small tan Dodge. To the best of my knowledge, Moriah had not placed a guard at the hotel. Guess the old American was meant to fall asleep exhausted.

Jake showed up soon and pushed open the passenger-side door.

“Just stick your bag on the back seat,” he said.

I slipped in beside him and closed the door.

“I really appreciate your doing this,” I said. “I’m sort of flying blind here. I picked the Patriarch because it was the only one I was familiar with. I thought nobody knew I was arriving, but I had no sooner gotten to my room than this guy with the
Temple
Alliance
called.”

“I take it you aren’t on such good terms with those people?”

“That’s for sure.”

“You say you just got here?”

“Yeah. No more than forty-five minutes ago.”

“Have you had supper?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t eaten since
Germany
or
Italy
. . . somewhere over
Europe
. Anyway, I’m starved. If you’d like to stop at a restaurant, I’ll fill you in while we eat.”

“I had supper an hour ago,” he said. “You like spaghetti?”

“Sure. That’s one of Jill’s specialties.”

“Well, I don’t know how mine will measure up to hers, but I’ve got plenty left. Want to go to my place?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “Do you live far from here?”

“I’m close to the Haas Promenade. Remember the stop we made on the way back from
Bethlehem
? It was a high overlook where we got a panoramic view of
Jerusalem
. Lots of flowers and tree plantings.”

I recalled the sweeping view of the
Old
City
with its massive stone walls and battlements, the golden Dome of the Rock, spires and domes of churches scattered among hundreds of sand-colored buildings. Through telescopes you could see the narrow streets crowded with vehicles, mostly small cars, and people clad in everything from normal Western styles to colorful Arab kaffiyeh, Jewish skullcaps, Muslim shawls, and the round black hats and fringed black suits of the ultra orthodox.

As we drove through the darkened streets into south
Jerusalem
, I recalled what Eli Zalman had told me during that fateful encounter in
Nashville
. “Have you heard anything about a girl at Middle East Tours getting in trouble with the authorities?” I asked.

Jake looked around, surprise registering on his face. “How did you know?”

“What happened to her?”

“Well, she was fired. Just about the time we were winding up our tour. The owner told me she had committed some sort of ‘grave indiscretion,’ as he put it. Something about giving out information regarding the agency’s tour groups.”

“And that’s all you’ve heard about it?”

“I always thought a lot of the girl. I called a cousin of hers to check on her, a guy who used to work for
MET
.”

“Did you learn anything else?”

“I talked to him just after you called. He said she was okay but pretty shaken by the questioning. I suspect Shin Bet was involved.”

“What did they question her about?”

“He didn’t say. He was pretty reluctant to discuss it at all. But one of the other guys at the agency had told me it probably involved her brother. He’s been in trouble for radical activities.”

“He was correct,” I said. “Have you heard of the Guardians of Palestine?”

“Oh, yes. As a tour guide I try to stay on top of all the political alliances.”

“Well, according to my information, your girl at Middle East Tours gave her brother all the details on our group. Names, addresses, itineraries. The Guardians of Palestine picked my name out of the list.”

“You–”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m here. They kidnapped my wife.”

He kept his eyes on the road, but he had the look of someone who had seen too much of this. Someone who had learned that detachment from everyday horrors was necessary to protect your sanity. At least now I knew Eli Zalman’s account of how I had been targeted by the Guardians was correct. And I was more than ever convinced that dealing with the
Temple
Alliance
could well prove the greatest challenge I had ever faced.

Chapter
30

Jake pulled in at a long, multi-story building fashioned of concrete and stone, located on a hill. He parked in front and pointed to the unit across from us.

“I’m lucky,” he said. “Got a first-floor apartment. Come on in.”

“Okay to leave my bag out here?” I asked.

“Sure. We don’t have a crime problem.”

I certainly hoped he was right where I was concerned, but I had my doubts.

“Well, I think it best to bring in one item anyway,” I said. “It’s the prime exhibit in the case.”

I pulled the canister out of my bag and we went inside. In the foyer just beyond the door stood a tall clay pot quite similar to the Dead Sea Scrolls jars. A red and green umbrella was stuck in it, along with the long, gnarled olive wood staff Jake had used on our tour. The apartment’s rooms were small but comfortable. He had decorated the walls with pictures of
Jerusalem
’s gates painted by one of his fellow guides. The furniture was rattan. A pass-through bar opened between the kitchen and living room, with two bar stools parked beside it.

“Just like home,” I said, smiling.

“Not quite, but close enough.” He gestured toward a bar stool. “Have a seat there and I’ll put the spaghetti on to heat. I hope you like mushroom and garlic sauce.”

“Sounds great to me.”

“Now tell me what you’ve got in that can, and what the devil this is all about.”

I looked at Jake in his yellow sport short and faded jeans. Now that he was away from his tour guide role, I took a good look. He was a short man in his early forties with a full, black beard and gray eyes that glowed with curiosity. During our trip I had learned how much he loved this troubled land and its biblical roots. He thought of himself more as a teacher and a researcher than as a guide. If there was ever a man in tune with his surroundings and content with his lot in life, it was Jacob Cohen.

“I might not be doing you any favors by telling you my story,” I said. “I’m sorry I got David involved in it, and I feel terrible that a friend of his got killed because of what happened.”

Jake took a microwave container out of the fridge and stared at me. “David didn’t mention that. How was he killed?”

“Some people from the Guardians of Palestine were looking for what’s in this can.”

His eyes narrowed. “The Guardians are new, but I’m well aware of the
Temple
Alliance
. If they could find an excuse to march up on the
Temple
Mount
with crowbars and jackhammers, they would start the biggest war the
Middle East
has ever seen.”

“Fortunately, I’m not dealing with that. But this little plastic can contains something they want badly enough to hold my wife hostage for it.”

Jake put the spaghetti dish in the microwave. As the fan began to whir, he said, “It sounds bad, Greg, but I’ve been living in a war zone for so long it seems forever. Your story can’t be any worse than those I hear nearly every day.”

So I told him about the smuggled scroll. My plate was empty by the time I wound up with the phone call from Moriah.

Jake had a troubled look. “Now I understand a little better what David was driving at. And he cracked the code in the scroll?” He glanced up at a clock on the wall. It was nearly eleven. “It’s about
three p.m.
in
Nashville
. Let me get David on the line and you can talk to him. I have his business number.”

But a couple of minutes later, he hung up. “He’s out and they’re not sure when he’ll be back.’

“He’s always in meetings.” I looked around. “I haven’t noticed any ash trays. Should I go outside to smoke?”

“I’d prefer that. David and I almost broke up as roommates over his smoking. We were like the Odd Couple anyway, too picky to survive together.”