part of the Jerusalem skyline and the third most holy shrine in all of Islam. To the right of the Dome and beyond it Allegra could make out the drab grey cupola of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre that had been built over the reported site of Christ’s crucifixion in the Old City’s Christian Quarter. To the left of the Dome was the valley of Kidron and the Mount of Olives. Allegra stretched out contentedly. She had the morning free for a stroll through the university to get the university sign-up procedures out of the way, and plenty of time to get ready for the briefing with Monsignor Lonergan. She found herself looking forward to seeing David again.
Suddenly her peace was shattered as the whole building shook. When the shaking stopped Allegra got off the bed and gingerly opened the door to the bedroom balcony. The street outside was quiet and there didn’t seem to be any damage or any sounds of sirens, but she wondered if there would be aftershocks.
Not being sure what ‘ish’ meant, Allegra was ready a little after two, but it was nearly three before Onslow broke the peace of the neighbourhood. David leaned over and pulled the wire that served as a door handle on the passenger side. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he yelled, a boyish grin on his face. Allegra would learn that a time qualified by ‘ish’ meant just that.
‘Did you get the tremor here?’ he shouted, accelerating out of the cul-de-sac.
‘It frightened me a little. Is there much damage?’
‘Only minor. We get them here every few years although this one was a little bigger. It registered six on the Richter scale and the epicentre was near the Dead Sea but there’s not much out there so I guess we’re lucky.’
For the second time in two days Allegra maintained a survival grip on the dashboard as David roared across greater Jerusalem, weaving in and out between the buses and sheruts and anything else that stood in his way.
‘You don’t see the need for a horn?’ she asked innocently, as another pedestrian leapt back to the safety of a streetside store.
‘No point. They can hear us coming a mile off.’
Allegra raised her eyebrows but David studiously ignored her. Inwardly she smiled. There was clearly quite a lot of the ‘little boy’ in David Kaufmann, she thought, something that made her warm to him even more.
‘Welcome to the Rockefeller.’ Monsignor Derek Lonergan extended a sweaty hand to David and then to Allegra. His hand felt like a fat, wet fish. Allegra smiled politely and looked at David with a ‘you should have warned me’ look as they followed the Vatican’s man into his office. Derek Lonergan’s face was flushed and a few long strands of reddish hair waved defiantly from his pink scalp. His beard hadn’t been trimmed for a very long time and his breath smelt of whisky. The cord on his cassock disappeared under the folds of his belly. David grinned as he saw Allegra struggling to keep a straight face.
‘The Director sends his apologies but he’s asked me to brief you on his behalf,’ Lonergan said, as he cleared away the piles of papers from two old chairs and levered his ample rear onto the front of his desk, giving Allegra a glimpse of a flabby white leg as he swung it to and fro.
‘The Dead Sea Scrolls is both a very difficult field, and quite a simple one,’ Monsignor Lonergan began pompously. ‘It is simple in that a great deal of hype has been written about what might be in the scrolls. In reality, they contain nothing of startling interest. Biblical scrolls that contain information already available to us in the Old Testament and with very little variance from the scriptures. Most interesting, but perfectly innocuous, and they add very little to the knowledge we already have of the peaceful reclusive Essenes who chose to live in isolation in Qumran. On the other hand,’ he said, looking down at Allegra, ‘putting the fragments together and reaching these conclusions by deciphering the ancient script is a job that requires a considerable amount of expertise.’
‘What about the date of the scrolls, Monsignor,’ David asked, underwhelmed by Lonergan’s pomposity. ‘I see that some scholars have argued that they are more closely linked to the time of Christ than first thought?’
‘You may call them scholars, Sir. I most certainly do not. There is not a shadow of doubt that all of the fragments, or at least those we have had the time to examine, are from a pre-Christian era. No doubt whatsoever.’
It was a critical slip and David jumped on it.
‘So there are other fragments you have not yet examined.’
For a moment Derek Lonergan looked as if he had suddenly become very constipated. His face went crimson and he blinked several times before answering, his eyes bulging like those of a large cod.
‘A very small number are still in the vault,’ he replied dismissively. ‘From a cursory translation they appear to be copies of one or two of the minor books of the Old Testament.’
‘And the dating of those?’ Allegra asked.
‘That has yet to be determined but given the overwhelming evidence that we have obtained from the fragments already analysed I have no doubt they will also date between 200 and 100 BC.’
‘Does the analysis include carbon dating, Monsignor?’ Allegra asked with an almost nonchalant look on her face.
Constipation set in again. ‘I need hardly remind you, Dr Bassetti, that these scrolls are priceless. We are not about to chop them up to provide samples for chemists. The linen they were wrapped in has already been subjected to that type of analysis but,’ he said, pausing for emphasis, ‘when you have spent as many years as I have in this field you will come to realise that there are many other methods of dating that are just as accurate, if not more so. The coins found at Qumran for a start, not to mention palaeography.’
‘Palaeography?’
‘The science of the comparative study of ancient calligraphy or more simply, changes evident in the evolution of handwriting that can be dated according to style,’ Lonergan said patronisingly, as if Allegra was a particularly thick school student.
‘I know what palaeography is, Monsignor,’ Allegra retaliated evenly. ‘It’s just that in my experience using palaeography to obtain accurate dates is, at best, somewhat tenuous?’ Allegra’s smile infuriated Lonergan.
‘When you have some experience, Dr Bassetti, perhaps we might discuss the issue,’ he spat back, making no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice. ‘Now, if you will both follow me, I will give you a tour of the museum.’
‘Nice arse,’ David whispered as they followed the waddling off-white cassock down the corridor that led to the Scrollery. Allegra struggled to hold back a giggle.
The Scrollery was a long rectangular room with three rows of trestle tables running along almost its entire length. On top of these, dozens of thick square sheets of glass provided the only protection for the thousands of scroll fragments that had been assembled by the small international team dominated by Vatican scholars.
‘This,’ Lonergan announced unnecessarily, ‘is the Scrollery. Please don’t touch any of the glass covers. As you can see protestations of secrecy are entirely unfounded. Any member of the international team is free to move around the Scrollery and observe what other members are doing.’
David refrained from commenting. Since there was no one actually in the Scrollery, ‘doing’ seemed a moot point. Both David and Allegra were somewhat bemused to find that for reasons best known to himself, Lonergan gave them a detailed tour of the administration areas; room after room of filing cabinets and computers. Finally they reached the basement area that housed the photographic dark rooms.
‘Is that the vault?’ David asked innocuously, as they passed the very same heavy steel doors he had come across during the 1967 Six Day War.
‘Only the Director has the combination I’m afraid,’ Lonergan lied easily, not even breaking the rhythm of his waddle.
‘The fragments in the vault that have yet to be analysed. Perhaps we may be able to assist you in that area?’ David suggested.
‘Out of the question,’ Lonergan replied emphatically. ‘They have already been assigned. And,’ he said meaningfully, ‘the suggestion you might be attached to the Rockefeller has yet to be approved. Whilst we congratulate you both, most of the work of translation has already been done, and we were somewhat surprised when the Department of Antiquities saw fit to put more resources into a field that is already fully allocated.’ The use of the royal ‘we’ seemed to underline the ‘them’ and ‘us’ approach that David had predicted.
‘Have you any idea when approval might be forthcoming?’ David persisted, as they arrived back at Lonergan’s office.
‘That will be up to the Director,’ Lonergan replied vaguely. ‘Now, I’m afraid you will have to excuse me. I have another appointment,’ he said, looking at his watch. Across at the American Colony Hotel Abdullah was about to open the Cellar Bar.
‘What do you think of our man Lonergan?’ David asked as he and Allegra climbed back into Onslow.
