“Claims like this are made all the time. Remember the limestone ossuary they made public last year? It supposedly held the remains of James, brother of Jesus. Experts think the surface patina was manufactured. There’s a sucker born every minute for this kind of stuff.”
“You haven’t even seen it and you’re saying it’s a fake,” he shot back. “It’s entirely possible for a Hebrew scribe to have lived in Assyria.”
“I know, but that’s a far cry from an original book of the Bible being written there.”
“He was likely a highly educated scribe taken in tribute to work for the Assyrian king. Nahum means ‘comforter’ and probably wasn’t the scribe’s real name. He was
I was starting to piece it together. “So, an enslaved Hebrew scribe writes a diatribe against what he believes is a godless city. Fine. But if the engraving was found buried in the lost city of Nineveh, how did it ever become a book in the Hebrew Bible?”
Tomas considered this for a moment. I could tell he didn’t want to tip his hand and reveal too much more.
“Papyrus was beginning to be used around that time; they must have smuggled papyrus copies out of Assyria.”
He could be right. A Hebrew might have been forcibly deported to the Assyrian capital, and multiple copies of the book spirited back to Judah. “It’s just … I’ve seen people caught up in the excitement of a major find only to have it turn out that some entrepreneur manufactured the thing. All the major museums have been fooled.”
“But not Samuel. He checked it very carefully. We got wind of another attempt to steal it during the looting. That’s when he made up his mind to bring it here. ”
I cursed silently. Protecting another country’s history had grown into an obsession for Samuel.
Tomas saw the look in my eyes and assumed I disapproved. “We could never have talked him out of it, you know. We did try. It’s ironic—the looting also gave us the cover to get it away. Without Samuel we’d never have made it across the border.”
“Why not just keep it in Jordan and wait out the war?”
“The walls have ears over there. American collectors lobbied their government to relax the rules on exporting Iraqi antiquities in the fall of 2002, right before the invasion. They said Iraq’s policy forbidding the export of antiquities was ‘retentive.’”
“I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Archaeologists counter-petitioned to make sure thousands of historic sites would be protected and were promised nothing would be damaged. What a farce. Rumors have surfaced of massive theft and even the use of advanced infrared imaging systems and ground-penetrating radar. Before the war is over everything will have been strip-mined.”
I could see the pain written on his face. His feelings seemed genuine. “Was he suspicious about anyone in particular?”
“An American dealer and his associates.”
I mentally ticked off the most prominent American dealers in Mesopotamian antiquities. Not a large group, and I knew virtually everyone. “Did he give you any other description? Any idea of who it might be?”
“I don’t think he knew any more than that, or perhaps he didn’t wish to accuse someone without clear proof. But he did mention an office on West Thirty-fourth Street, a block or two from the Hudson River. He said some other items he suspected had been stolen from the museum were sent there from agents in Baghdad.”
“That sounds promising. What’s the address?”
Tomas sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s all I remember him saying, although he did find out the identities of two of the dealer’s associates, a man and a woman. The woman who threatened you, you said her name was Eris?”
“Yes,” I said, thinking again about her name.
“She’s the one.” Tomas snapped his fingers. “Her full name is Eris Haines. She’s a former employee of the Department of Defense, research division. They develop advanced weaponry, carry out scientific research with an impact on national security. Before that, she worked as a private security consultant in Bosnia.”
“And the man?”
“George Shimsky. Reportedly, a brilliant chemist. He suffered some kind of accident. Terrible scars on his face.”
I drained my espresso. “The two of them were terrifying. They may be linked to a website called the Alchemy Archives. Do you know anything about that?”
“Not about any group. You mentioned alchemy before. It’s from the Arabic
“Why would alchemy have anything to do with the Book of Nahum?” I slid the question in again, determined to get a real answer this time.
He shrugged his shoulders. “One can find many hidden meanings in biblical scriptures. Samuel may have had an answer for you on that. But if so, he took it to his grave.”
He let that remark dangle for a moment before changing the subject. “I understand you were born in Turkey. Samuel said you were only three when your parents died in a mine disaster.”
The sudden switch in conversation convinced me Tomas knew more about the significance of alchemy than he was willing to reveal, but he persisted. “Did you never try to seek out your relatives?”
“They’d made it pretty clear they didn’t want me. Why would I?”
A slight flush on his neck indicated he knew he’d overstepped the bounds of politeness with someone he hardly knew. “You had some good fortune, though—you got Samuel. He never married. I find that curious.”
“He was married, ages ago. His wife passed away before he learned about me. That helped to make up his mind to take me under his wing. Her death left a gap, and he found out about me at just the right time.”
It was so humid you could practically see steam rising off the pavement outside. I ordered a glass filled with ice and a bottle of Lauquen, a crisp artesian water. When I offered some to Tomas he declined.
The heat didn’t seem to bother him at all, even though just looking out the window at the people sweltering made me uncomfortable. I grappled with his revelation. Samuel had discovered an original book of the Bible. If true, the find would be sensational. But pieces were deliberately missing from the story, and that troubled me.
“Anyway, back to what you were saying. Samuel had ties with most of the major museums and a number of options for safekeeping. So why bring the engraving here? I don’t think you’re giving me the whole story.”
Tomas took a breath, and in the gap I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.
“There’s something else to this then?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
“You don’t trust me?”
He tried to avoid my eyes. “You’ve seen what can happen. Until the danger has passed you’re safer not knowing. That’s probably why Samuel didn’t tell you himself.”
My patience finally hit the wall. “If you want to find the artifact, you need me. Tell me everything or I’m out of here.”
A few minutes passed in silence while he struggled with what to say. “Samuel believed it contained a concealed message.”
“You’re saying Nahum used some kind of code?”
“Not exactly. Not a cipher. It’s something to do with the way he wrote the book. Signs in the text the prophet left for his confederates.”
He could read the disbelief on my face. “It is possible. You’ve heard of the copper scroll they found at Kirbet Qumran with the Dead Sea Scrolls? It listed a number of sites throughout Israel. Hiding places for gold and silver.”
“That was written centuries after Nahum. There were no hidden messages. The locations were described; contemporary interpreters just can’t understand them. Don’t you think that if there was a secret message in Nahum’s prophecy, over thousands of years someone would have figured it out?”
