but feel he’d been played for a fool.
“It’s a setup,” Barton insisted. “I had nothing to do with this crime. You
of all people should know that.”
“I like you. You seem to be a good man, but really, I don’t know what
to think. They said that solid evidence was discovered in your apartment.
Things only the thieves could have possessed.”
“Someone planted that drill,” Barton protested. “And you know as well
as me that the scroll was in that ossuary.” He saw the incredulous look on
the Muslim’s face. “For goodness sake, Razak. You have to tell them that
the scroll was in that ossuary.”
Razak spread his hands. “I had my back turned,” he reminded him. He
couldn’t discount the possibility that Barton may have purposely gone
through the charade of opening the remaining ossuaries to legitimize the
scroll in his possession. But why? For notoriety? To discredit the Muslim
claim to Temple Mount by sidetracking the investigation with a territorial
dispute? Maybe to divert the blame to a fanatical Christian? “Right. I see.” Disappointment clouded the archaeologist’s face. “You’re
part of this, too.”
“What about the other ossuaries?”
Barton was exasperated. “How could a man my size move nine ossuaries weighing thirty-five kilos each right from under the eyes of the Waqf and police? They’re not the kind of things one can slip into one’s pocket,” he said sarcastically. “Haven’t you seen this city the past few days? There’s surveillance equipment everywhere. All they need to do is play back some
video recordings and they’ll see that I was never there without you present.” Razak was silent, eyes cast down.
“And even if I’d been able to take them, where would I have hidden
them? In my flat? They’ve already searched there. Next you’re going to assume that I defaced the tablet on the wall of the crypt because I saw it before you did.”
The Muslim’s eyes shot up. “What do you mean by that?” “The tenth entry on the tablet. Remember it was scratched away?” Now Razak knew what he was referring to. “Yes.”
“Well tonight, Major Topol conveniently showed me a photograph taken
before I was brought in. It showed the symbol that was originally there.” Razak didn’t like that. “And what was it?”
Barton wasn’t in the mood for another history dissertation. “A pagan
symbol. A dolphin wrapped around a trident.”
Razak tried to comprehend what this meant.
“An early Christian symbol for Jesus, representing crucifixion and
resurrection.”
Razak didn’t know what to say. If this were true, it would certainly
strengthen Barton’s assertions about the crypt’s owner and the perceived
contents of the stolen ossuary. He shook his head. “I don’t know what to
believe.”
“You must help me, Razak. You’re the only one who knows the truth.” “Truth’s a rare commodity in this part of the world.” Razak glanced away.
“Even if it existed, I don’t know if I’d recognize it.” He began to feel a keen
responsibility for the Englishman. Barton’s intuition about the theft had been
virtually flawless and he’d perceived things no one else had grasped. Yet here
he was awaiting charges. Razak had seen these tactics used many times in the
past by the Israeli authorities. But was Barton really just a convenient patsy
for the Israelis? This possibility presented an entirely different challenge. “Is there any hope for me?”
Razak spread his hands. “There’s always hope.” But deep down he
knew that there would be no easy way out of this.
“You’re not going to pursue this investigation, are you?
“You have to understand our position.” Razak was beginning to wonder
