He pulled two remaining nails from the bottom of the ossuary, and aligned all three on the tray. Three more items that would substantiate the skeleton’s identity. There had been many moments in Bersei’s career that served as reminders of his passion for discovery. But these revelations transcended all rationality. “Oh my,” he gasped, sinking back into his chair. Across the lab Charlotte had just hung up the phone.
“You’ve got to see what I’ve just found,” he called over to her. His eyes were locked on the tray.
Charlotte approached the workstation. By Bersei’s blanched look she knew that the ossuary had offered up yet another of its secrets.
He pointed mutely to the tray.
She saw three metal objects lying on the tray’s shiny steel surface. “Railroad spikes?” Staring down at the jagged points of the nails made the whole ghastly process of crucifixion even more real.
Bersei broke the silence. “I think it’s safe to say that these would have been the nails used to crucify this man... whoever he was.”
“Where did you find them?”
“Take a look.” He pointed with his chin.
She positioned herself above the ossuary, scanning its exposed cavity— a hollowed-out limestone shell.
“The dust was concealing it.”
That’s when her eyes caught the faint outline of something else hidden deep inside the ossuary. It looked like a second recess carved even deeper into the compartment. “Wait,” she called sharply, swinging the retractable lighting arm over the ossuary, light flooding its interior. “Looks like you missed something. There. It looks like...” Under the harsh glare she could discern it better. “...a cylinder?”
33
******
Jerusalem
Razak found Farouq in the small upstairs room in the Grammar College building the Waqf had converted into its temporary office. He’d just finished a phone call.
Before he could open his mouth, the Keeper cut across: “Topol says no recorded shipments over the past couple of days come close to matching the ossuary.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “This isn’t going well.”
Razak took a seat. Farouq looked as if he hadn’t slept in days as he turned to face him at an angle that perfectly superimposed the Keeper over the window-framed backdrop of the Dome of the Rock Mosque.
“Hamas and the Palestinian Authority,” Farouq continued, “both confirmed that the helicopter used to transport the thieves from the Haram esh-Sharif was definitely Israeli. When I confronted Teleksen about it, he claimed it had been hijacked from the Sde Dov air base near Tel Aviv. A Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk.”
If Razak’s memory served him correctly, Israel had purchased several of the assault helicopters from the Americans in the late 1990s.
“Seems that the Israeli Air Force shares the Sde Dov airfield with commercial carriers,” Farouq added.
“No wonder it was so easy for someone to sneak onto the base.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” His tone was razor sharp. “There’s always the possibility that the helicopter wasn’t actually stolen.”
Not liking the fact that Farouq’s objectivity seemed to be waning, Razak shifted gears. “At least they’ve finally admitted to it. Quite an embarrassment for them.”
“Assuming it was an accident, of course.”
“Did you ask Teleksen why we weren’t informed sooner?”
“Of course I did.”
“And what was his response?”
Farouq folded his arms. “He was concerned the information would be leaked to the media.”
Razak had to admit that if the tables had been turned, the Palestinians would also have done their best to conceal any information that could initiate hostile retaliation. It all just seemed like a never-ending game. “You don’t actually think the Israelis arranged for the theft, do you?”
“It’s too soon to tell. But obviously I’m suspicious.”
“But what about all those Israeli soldiers murdered?” He shook his head. It just didn’t gel with what Barton was presenting. Why would the Jews be interested in the supposed relics of a false messiah or some ridiculous legend about the Holy Grail? “What could their motive possibly be?”
“What has the Israeli motive ever been? These people are always looking to destroy peace.”
The same response Razak would expect from Hamas. “So how will you proceed?”
“I’m not sure. For now, we’ll await more information.” Farouq laced his fingers together and pressed them against his lips. “Tell me, what is going on with the English archaeologist...this Barton character?”
Surely this was not the time to fuel the old man’s growing frustrations with the other side. As it stood, the archaeologist’s wild theories remained just that—untamed. “He’s asked to see the chamber again. He feels he may have missed something.”
Trying to hide his concern, the Keeper seemed unfazed. “Like what?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as I find out.” Razak stood to leave. “By the way, I’ll need to borrow your car. I’m meeting someone who may be able to give us some good information.”
“Fine.” Farouq opened his desk drawer and gave Razak a key to the Mercedes S500. “I just had it cleaned. Where will you be going?”
“Gaza City,” Razak coolly replied.
