The Kabbalistic Murder Code: Mystery & International Conspiracies (Historical Crime Thriller Book 1) (12 page)

              “According to some calculations,” said Professor Ashuri, “the Hebrew years 5508, 5512, and 5558, or in secular terms, 1748, 1752, and 1798, were especially propitious. I have to give a class right now,” she continued, “but if you have any more questions, feel free to call me at home.”

              “I really appreciate your help,” said Elijah, nonplussed yet again, as he left her.

              Elijah decided to do something concrete. He took a bus to the Institute for Practical Kabbalah on Agron Street, where he asked if they had any information on any descendants of Rabbi Batzri, the noted Kabbalist who had lived in Jerusalem. The people there were all very familiar with Rabbi Batzri, and were amazed that Elijah knew anything about him. The institute head advised him to contact a Rabbi Zanani, who - while not a descendant of Rabbi Batzri - was definitely a descendant of the holy
Ari
- Rabbi Luria. Elijah immediately traveled to the address given to him and found himself in a waiting room, where he sat for three hours surrounded by barren women seeking the rabbi’s blessing to combat their infertility, women whose husbands had disappeared, and people with various life-threatening diseases. There was nothing mysterious about the waiting room: it was not in some dank cave or old house. It was a simple waiting room, not unlike those used by regular physicians, with plain, whitewashed walls. Two or three people circulated among the men and women waiting in the room, collecting money.

              “I must admit,” Elijah said to himself, “that mysticism is a desirable profession in Jerusalem, and all of these people are definitely consumers of mysticism.” Indeed, mysticism had become a product like any other, and a very lucrative one indeed. Could that be what interested Norman?

              Finally, it was Elijah’s turn. He was ushered into an almost bare room, where an elderly rabbi sat on a couch; indeed, it could almost be said that he was sunk into it. Behind him was a photograph of a man who appeared to be of Yemenite extraction, and Elijah asked the rabbi if this was a photograph of the same Kabbalist Rabbi David Moreno, whom Rabbi Batzri had mentioned in Hong Kong. Elijah was not interested in trying to impress the rabbi with his knowledge, and was afraid that his question might have touched a sensitive nerve. The rabbi was clearly taken aback, but did not venture an answer. Elijah then showed him the sentence fragment from the manuscript: “The redemption will come at the appropriate time, which is one of these.” He asked the rabbi if this year was a propitious one. It was a shot from the hip, without any attempt at weighing the possible consequences. The rabbi gave him a penetrating, serious look, and remained silent for a time. He remained deeply engrossed in thought and mumbled certain words that Elijah could not fathom.

              He twisted his fingers, pulled the hair of his long beard, and finally answered, in a guttural Hebrew that Elijah could only understand with great difficulty, “The last time was eleven years ago. This year will be propitious and the next propitious one will be nine years from now.” Elijah did not want to reveal his motives in asking, and left the aged rabbi’s presence.

              “How much do I need to pay?” he asked the man in charge of finances. “A thousand dollars.”

              Taking $1500 from his wallet, Elijah gave him the entire amount and dismissed the man’s attempt to return the extra $500. He hurried out of the house. At such high prices, he was grateful that his Luzatto salary had enabled him to pay without putting himself into debt.

              He hurried to the Luzzato Institute, as if to signify that nothing had changed and it was “business as usual” and was soon engrossed in studying the texts on what he now regarded as “his” desk. The telephone rang; in the utter silence within the Institute’s walls, the ringing of the phone was a totally unexpected intrusion, and Elijah jumped from his chair, startled. He picked up the phone and heard the voice on the other end of the line. It was Norman.

              Norman heaved a deep sigh, clearly audible over the phone, and noted: “I’ve heard all about the terrible tragedy. Kim was a very close friend of mine, and I shall miss him deeply. I hate to think of what you must have been through. I was afraid someone else might be interested in so valuable a manuscript and as you can see, I took the proper precautions. I always knew that, on a one-on-one basis, there was no one who could defeat Kim. Although I really hope you haven’t decided to quit, I’ll fully understand if you have.”

              For a second, Elijah was thrown off balance. Norman’s voice sounded so warm, so caring, and so convincing. Elijah realized he needed to play for time and if that meant lying, that was the way to go.

“On the contrary, Mr. Norman, I am particularly keen to stay on now, in memory of Kim. What would you like me to do?”

              “We’ve uncovered another manuscript, which requires your authentication, and that means you’re going to have to take another trip to examine it thoroughly. That is, if you’re willing to do so, of course.”

              Elijah felt a familiar knot in his stomach, a common occurrence when he was tense. He assumed Norman must have found out about the Batzri scroll, which Elijah had not even mentioned.

              Norman continued, “It is vitally important this time, too, that the owner remains unaware of the fact that we are so intent on getting our hands on the different manuscripts. The financial arrangements will be the same as last time.”

              “I thought you’d like me to work here. I don’t think I’ll be able to fly to Hong Kong again.”

              “I wouldn’t send you there for all the money in the world. This trip will be to Istanbul.”

              Elijah sighed what he hoped was an inaudible sigh of relief. That meant that Norman did not yet know about the scroll in Batzri’s possession. He decided not to say a word about it - at least not at this time.

              “Don’t worry. The ‘White Lotus’ is only active in its own territory.”

              “OK. I see no problem with flying to Turkey.”

              “I don’t know what I can do as a memorial for Kim. I’m thinking of setting up a research fund in his memory,” said Norman.

              Elijah paled. He felt fortunate they were not using videophones, so that Norman could not see all the color draining from his face. He was sure now that Norman himself must have written the Rashi script list he had found. After all, one of the items on that list, which was written before Elijah had even begun to work for the Institute, was to set up a research fund in memory of Kim. Elijah remembered being utterly astounded at his first meeting with Norman at the man’s evident ability to read people’s minds and to know in advance what was going to happen. He began to have doubts about Norman’s ethics. As far as he was concerned, Norman could well be an evil man; if he knew that Kim was slated to die, why didn’t he do everything in his power to prevent his death? Furthermore, although he was aware that Kim would die, Norman had been cold-hearted and emotionless enough to plan a research fund in his memory. The memorial fund now seemed to Elijah no more than sheer hypocrisy.

              Elijah got up and went to stand by the window. It was getting late, an hour at which he could easily decide to go home. But he needed time to gather and galvanize his thoughts. He regretted greatly that - unlike in any other of the other projects he had worked on - he had allowed himself to become involved in the content of the manuscripts, rather than merely their letters and shapes. Elijah was amazed at himself. Even the study of the texts in terms of their meaning seemed to him bizarre. Usually, he stayed away completely from the implications of the meaning of each text. He loved what some might call the “mechanical” aspects of dealing with text, working extensively with the physical structure of each item - its paper or parchment, the ink used, the writing instrument involved, and of course the style of the script. As to the meaning of each document, he left that for others who specialized in different spheres. Once, in a fit of anger, Orna had taunted him by claiming that his obsession with the physical aspects of decaying documents was really no more than an escape from reality. But, like every experienced husband, Elijah had learned not to enter into confrontations with Orna when she was upset, but rather to agree with whatever she said. Deep down, however, he felt that what he was involved in was the real world. Now he had a golden opportunity to deal exclusively with manuscripts. One day he might be able to forget everything that had happened in Hong Kong and return to his earlier, uncomplicated lifestyle.

              He returned to his desk and tried, as a way of preparing for his trip to Istanbul, to review the script used in the late Ottoman era. But he soon lost patience and stopped working. He sat there doing nothing, but tried to find some sort of explanation for everything he had gone through since beginning to work for the Institute. He reviewed the day’s events and remembered the holy
Ari
, Rabbi Luria. But it occurred to him that this name was familiar in a different context! The letterhead on the piece of paper, which had been removed from his desk, was that of the Luria Investment Company. Maybe the time had come for him to look into that company. He gathered his personal items, locked up behind himself, and left the Institute. As he searched for something in his pocket, he realized that he had Orna’s cell phone, which she had given him the day before to take care of, and which he had forgotten to return to her. He had the perfect means to conduct a little investigation.

              But he soon realized that what in theory seemed a simple, straightforward task was, in practice, one of great difficulty. Elijah’s knowledge of finance was probably on the same level as a caveman’s knowledge of advanced nuclear physics. Or even less. When he came to the part of the daily newspaper that related to stocks and share prices, he turned the page with no interest whatsoever in checking anything out. He had never invested in any stock, and he kept as far away as possible from anything to do with the stock exchange. His only savings were in a study fund, for which a regular sum was deducted from his salary every month. For the first time, he found himself handicapped by total ignorance. He had no idea whom he might call about this “Luria” company. At first he thought he might approach an economics professor with whom he was friendly, but then another name popped into his head: Gabi Moldovan.

              “I wouldn’t say that Moldovan isn’t honest,” Professor Adir once said about him, “but he’s the kind of person who, if you wake up in the morning after having to share a blanket with him on a freezing night, you’ll find that he hogged the whole blanket for himself. Everything is totally legal and aboveboard and he will be apologetic in the extreme, but the same thing will happen every night, with the same result.”

              Gabriel Moldovan went to school with Elijah, and was two years his senior. During their school years they had lived near one another. His father owned the local fruit and vegetable store, and from an early age Gabi had worked for his father, showing some serious business acumen. He was forever trading in marbles, buying and selling used textbooks, working with various boring groups and getting paid, and everyone predicted that he would be a millionaire by the time he was twenty-five. At university, he studied Economics, and after graduating became a rising star in one of the many investment houses that mushroomed during those years. Once, Elijah and Gabi had bumped into each other on campus and embraced like old friends. Gabi told him that he was now giving an extension course on “Initiatives in High-Tech Companies - From the Initial Concept to Making Profit.” He was lecturing already, even though he had never even finished his Ph.D., and Elijah had to admit that he had felt a twinge of envy when he heard this, both for himself and for all the others who had finished the course.

              “Elijah, what you’ve got to understand,” Gabi had once patronized him, as if he was a kid, “is that there is absolutely no difference between selling fruit and vegetables and selling real estate or even selling high-tech companies, except for the profit margin. In every case, if you want to make a sale you have to overlook defects, hide problems, make light of flaws even when they are obvious, and sell the apples before they rot.”

              Elijah called Gabi’s office and asked if he was in.

              “Who’s calling, please?” Gabi’s administrative assistant asked, without answering his question.

              “Dr. Shemtov,” replied Elijah. He didn’t usually bother using his title except when talking to administrative assistants. Even then he felt ill-at-ease in invoking it, but he had learned the hard way that a title often has a magical way of allowing him to speak to someone, probably, he figured, because the “administrative assistant” would realize that there would be hell to pay if the doctor in question turned out to be his/her boss’s personal or family physician.

              “Just let me check,” said the assistant, without waiting for Elijah’s response. He found himself on hold, with the local news channel blaring from the receiver. There was some item about what the prime minister had said – or maybe it was something the prime minister had not said. Elijah didn’t have time to clarify the point, when he heard Gabi’s sonorous voice on the other end of the line.

              “Well, well, if it isn’t Dr. Shemtov, custodian of all our manuscripts. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

              Elijah chuckled. Say what you might about Gabi’s morals and questionable business ethics, it was always a pleasure to speak to him. “Hi, Gabi. I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I know how valuable your time is. I have a simple question for you. As an international expert on investments, I wonder if you could tell me anything you might know about the Luria Company.”