The Lost Codex (45 page)

78

T
he man was telling the truth. He drove like a demon, zipping around cars and getting Vail to Jerusalem in just over an hour. By the time he pulled into the Israel Museum’s parking lot at 8:00
PM
, the rain had stopped.

A few vehicles were still there, likely staff and whoever else they were supposed to meet. A curator? Police? A Mossad officer? Vail realized that in the rush to get out of Sahmoud’s house they had gotten no details as to what was going to transpire when they arrived.

As she neared the entrance, she passed through security barriers and walked by a rectangular reflecting pool. She saw a sign for the museum offices as well as those of the Israel Antiquities Authority.

If they knew what I had in this tube, they’d be out here with a red carpet.

A sign directed her to the gallery entrance, where she was met by two black-suited men with close-cropped hair and earbuds. If she had been in the US, she would have guessed they were Secret Service agents.

“Karen Vail?” one of them asked.

“I’ve been accused of worse.”

He looked her up and down, lingering on the blood stains soaked into her shirt and pants.

The other agent gestured at the tube. “We’ll take that.”

“No, you won’t.”

He looked at her a long moment, his expression stern, as if he were deciding whether to challenge her. He finally said, “Come with me,” and he led her through the admissions area and into the museum, up a long corridor with dark walls and a charcoal granite floor. Dramatic exterior spotlighting illuminated the frosted glass windows to her right.

They passed ancient floor-to-ceiling mosaics, which, according to the posted sign, were from sixth-century Beit She’an ruins.

First the Louvre, then the Israel Museum … someday I’m going to visit all these places with Robby. No guns, no bad guys. No killers. No terrorists with bombs or chemical weapons.

A girl can dream, right?

The agent led her outside, where they crossed a long, narrow cement promenade that stretched into the distance to her left. Ahead was a dark gray freestanding rectangular wall, and to her right a shiny white brick dome with a nipple on the top.

“What’s that?” Vail asked.

The agent slowed, turned, and said, “The roof of the shrine. It’s designed to look like the lid of the clay pots that contained the Dead Sea Scrolls.” He swung back and continued on and Vail hustled up beside him. They entered an area designated “The Shrine of the Book,” then descended a series of stone steps with a glass-sided railing that led into a small plaza.

Several suited men and women were standing there—which Vail immediately pegged as part of Knox’s protection detail.

Her escort stopped at the door and said, “Inside. They’re waiting for you.”

Vail walked into a dark corridor with museum displays on each side. They appeared to deal with the discovery of the scrolls in the Qumran caves, but she did not stop for a look.

She proceeded straight ahead into a dramatic atrium that had a dome-shaped ceiling; she was underneath the white brick structure she had seen outside a minute ago. In the center sat a circular display case five steps up on a raised platform that contained a Dead Sea Scroll that had been unfurled.

On the main level, along the periphery, were wall-mounted exhibits featuring scroll sections and informational placards.

Vail ascended the stairs where two women and several men were standing—two of whom she knew: Gideon Aksel and Douglas Knox. Knox had been pacing. He stopped and looked up when she entered the room.

Vail swallowed deeply and suddenly became aware of the tube she had tucked under her left arm—and its significance.

“Agent Vail,” Knox said. “You have something for us?”

“Yes sir.” She stepped forward and handed it to a woman who reached out and took it from her with extreme care.
If you only knew what I just put it through.

“I’m Tamar,” the woman said. “Thank you. For bringing this to us.” She and three of the other men descended to the main level where a temporary table and an assortment of magnifying lenses and tools were located.

Knox came up alongside Vail. “Glad you made it.” He squinted in the dim light. “You’ve got blood spatter all over your clothing.”

“You should see the other guy.”

Knox tilted his head and a smile teased the corners of his mouth, a sign of approval.

“Agent Vail.” Tamar’s voice echoed in the empty room. She was holding her white-gloved hands vertically, like a surgeon in an operating room. “Other than some Arabic papers, this tube is empty.”

“What?” Vail leapt down the steps. She lifted the container and peered inside, then looked at the table.
What the hell? Could they have fallen out when I dropped the tube? No. I would’ve seen them.

“Where are the documents?” Askel asked.

“I—I don’t understand.” She brought her gaze up and looked at him. Then at Knox.

“Hector called me two hours ago,” Knox said. “He told me each of you were bringing portions of the codex and scroll.”

Footsteps drew their attention. They looked up in unison to see DeSantos walking in, a portfolio in his hand.

Vail could tell he was reading their faces as Tamar reached over and took the bag from him.

“My tube was empty,” Vail said. “There’s no way I lost the pages. I mean, I guess it’s possible but I can’t see how. I would’ve seen them.”

A moment later, Tamar’s stern voice echoed in the chamber. “This is empty as well.” Even in the understated light, Vail could see that her jaw was firm, her eyes fiery.

What the hell is going on?

DeSantos rooted out his phone, started dialing.

“You’re calling Uzi?”

DeSantos did not answer. He lowered the handset and cursed under his breath.

“Either of you hear from Fahad?” Knox asked.

Vail bit her lip. “Nothing.”

DeSantos indicated likewise.

Seven minutes passed. Knox paced. Vail and DeSantos sat on the bottom steps of the shrine.

Vail was concerned about Uzi. Thinking about the two ancient documents they had been entrusted with. And starting to have doubts about Fahad’s true intentions: were they as DeSantos claimed—nefarious—or beneficent, as Uzi claimed?

DeSantos rose up and began to stretch when Uzi walked in. Vail immediately noticed that he was not carrying anything.

Aksel was the first to question him. “Where’s your—”

“Gone. I was intercepted by al Humat militants and I got away with a GSW to the arm. I lost the tube, but—”

“Our docs are missing,” Vail said. “My tube and Hector’s portfolio are empty.”

“I know.”

DeSantos stepped forward. “What do you mean, ‘I know’?”

“I gave it all to Mo.”

Knox descended the steps and stood face-to-face with Uzi. “You what?”

DeSantos’s face shaded red. “Boychick, are you crazy? We’ve been worried about him since the day he joined our team. He may’ve been the one who almost got you killed.”

“I don’t think so.”

Aksel came up beside Knox and folded his short, thick arms across his chest. “Let me get this straight. You gave two of the most ancient, most holy documents of the Jewish people, to a Palestinian? A CIA operative? After what I told you? And you expected him to bring it here, to turn it over to Israel?”

“Yes.”

DeSantos shook his head and walked out of the chamber, heading for the shrine’s exit.

Knox cleared his throat. “Agent Uziel, you should’ve consulted me on this.”

“No time, sir. Al Humat was approaching Sahmoud’s house. We had to get out right then—or we wouldn’t have made it out alive.”

That’s not entirely true. You had to put everything in Mo’s satchel before we knew they were coming.

“Given the situation, I felt he stood the best chance of getting back here safely, without being challenged and detained. Or killed.”

“The situation?” Knox asked.

“He’s Palestinian, sir. He speaks Arabic, he looks like them, he knows their culture, he’s got friends in Gaza.” Uzi swallowed. “And family.”

Yeah, he’s got family there, all right. A brother named Nazir al Dosari.

“Director Tasset was running a covert counter-op with him,” Knox said, “which I only found out about a little while ago. He was working with the White House to secure the documents for the president. Had we known, Secretary McNamara and I never would’ve put him on this mission.”

Uzi sat down on the step and bowed his head. A long moment passed. “I didn’t know. I really thought we could trust him.”

“Mo only thinks he has parts of the codex and the scroll,” Vail said. “Even if he felt compelled to carry out his mission, it wouldn’t do the president much good.”

“But if he looked inside, he’d know he had everything,” Aksel said. “Brilliant move, Uzi. You’ve managed to fuck things up again.”

Vail expected Knox to say something in his operative’s defense, but the director remained silent—in effect, endorsing Aksel’s comment.

A moment later, the shrine door opened and closed. All heads swiveled in that direction, where DeSantos and Fahad were entering.

“Thank god,” Knox said.

Amen to that.

“Sorry I’m late,” Fahad said. “Stopped by a friend’s to get a ride to the checkpoint. Turns out he’s now with al Humat. Could’ve gone south real quick, but he got the call about Sahmoud and took off.” He stopped and seemed to realize that everyone was staring at him.

“You have something for us?” Knox asked.

He pulled the satchel off his shoulder and handed it to the director, who gave it to Tamar. She regloved and immediately went to work with her team.

They huddled around Tamar’s makeshift laboratory as the curator carefully unzipped the case and splayed it open. She pulled off a few layers of tissue paper and the pages of the Aleppo Codex stared back at them.

Aksel’s lips parted, while Knox pushed his glasses up his nose with a finger and leaned over the table to get a better look.

“Extraordinary,” Tamar said. The other conservationists concurred.

Tamar glanced at Fahad and gave him an appreciative nod, then moved on to the other item, a tubular shaped object similarly wrapped. She gently removed the paper and exposed a well preserved scroll. With gloved hands, she and two of the men carefully peeled back the first several inches.

Everyone leaned in for a glimpse. Tamar remained longer than the others, examining it with a jeweler’s loupe before straightening up. “More tests are needed, but it does, in fact, look like the genuine article.” She turned to the other woman, who was hunched over the codex.

She lifted her magnifying lens and spoke to Tamar. “I have to study this further in the lab, but I believe these are the missing pages of the Aleppo Codex.”

Uzi tapped Vail on her shoulder and gestured to the others to follow. He led them outside to a raised lookout over a one acre scale model of ancient Jerusalem and the Second Temple, shortly before its destruction in 70
CE
—the precise time documented in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Uzi sought out Fahad, who was following a dozen feet behind. “Be right back,” he told Vail.

“A MINUTE?” Uzi asked as he approached Fahad.

“Sure.”

Uzi gave him a shoulder hug. “Thank you, man.”

Fahad canted his head. “Hey, just doing my job.”

“No, not for that. For renewing my faith that your people and my people can get along. After what happened with Batula Hakim and her brother and all that other bad shit with Hamas and al Humat, I’ve had my doubts.”

“Believe me, I’ve had my moments too. I’m not without baggage.”

“So there’s hope.”

Fahad rocked back on his heels. “Well, now that we’ve solved the Israeli-Palestinian issue, maybe we should become diplomats and tackle other world crises.”

They both laughed.

“I’ve gotta go brief my boss,” Fahad said. “Not gonna be an easy conversation. Tasset’s going to be pissed.” He paused, then deadpanned, “You think there are any job openings at the Bureau?”

Uzi chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

“See you on the plane.” He pulled out his phone and headed for a nearby bench.

UZI REJOINED VAIL AND DeSANTOS at the railing overlooking the Second Temple model.

Vail was slipping her phone back in her pocket. “Got an email from my boss. He just put a new file on my desk and wanted to know how soon I can get back to doing some important work—profiling serial killers.”

“What’d you tell him?” Uzi asked.

Vail smiled wanly. “Told him I can’t wait.”

Uzi took a deep breath of damp, cool air. “I hope we’re making headway against those cells back home. Santa—how long till you think we’ll hear something?”

“Spoke to Hot Rod on the way over here. The list of cells we got from Sahmoud’s was spot-on. We’ve got tac teams in eleven cities ready to strike simultaneously—FBI, marshals, local PD. Massive operation.”

“You think we’ll get ’em all?” Vail asked.

DeSantos considered that. “Eleven’s pretty damn good. But no. I don’t think we’ll get them all.” He stared into the darkness for a moment. “We dealt them some major blows. I think we’ll be okay for now. Things will be quiet. A few months, a year, two years. Who knows.”

“What about Connerly?” Uzi asked.

DeSantos shrugged. “NSA intercepted a call between his phone and a number the CIA had been tracking belonging to Hussein Rudenko. Don’t know what was discussed, and we can’t be sure it was Connerly, or Rudenko, on the line, but—”

“There’d be no reason for the president’s chief of staff to have a phone call with an arms dealer and terrorist who’s on the FBI most wanted list.”

“Without having a recording of the conversation,” Vail said, “you can’t prove Rudenko and Connerly were talking.”

“Not a smoking gun,” Uzi said. “But we might be on to something.”

“Or it might mean nothing,” Vail said.

Uzi shook his head. “I don’t believe in coincidences where things like this are concerned. I think Sahmoud was telling us the truth.”

“Good luck with that,” DeSantos said. “We can’t put the president’s chief of staff in a black site room and interrogate him. There’ll be lawyers.”