“It’s just . . . the door was locked earlier”—he began nervously chewing
at his fingertips—“and I saw that the light was on.”
“No need to apologize,” he said. Since Amit was under the employ of
the Israel Antiquities Authority, whose main offices were housed inside the
museum, it was no surprise that his presence hadn’t fazed the kid. Amit took a moment to introduce Jules.
Joshua could barely maintain eye contact with the attractive Frenchwoman, his eyes fixating too much on the Egyptologist’s slim, tan legs and
the bandage covering her right knee.
“I was just looking for Yosi,” Amit explained. “He’d given me a copy of
his key . . .” Amit held up his hands. “Figured we’d wait for him.” Joshua’s eyes went to the floor and his lips curled down. “So you haven’t
. . . heard yet?” The finger-gnawing intensified.
“He died last night.”
“He
“A neighbor found his door open. He was on the floor. I think they
were saying something about his heart.”
Amit was thinking about an entirely different diagnosis as he looked
back at the empty light boxes.
“That’s awful,” Jules said with heartfelt sadness, even though she hadn’t
known the man.
“I know this may sound like an awkward question,” Amit said. “But did
you see him leave yesterday?”
Joshua nodded. “Right after my father talked to him.”
“And was Yosi carrying anything with him? A box, a briefcase—anything like that?”
He shook his head. “No. I think he had gone to some lecture at the
Israel Museum. So he left everything here.”
Another punch to the throat. “Poor man,” Amit said. It was tough to
shake the feeling that he’d put Yosi in harm’s way. Crushing. “Well, it’s probably best that we get going,” Jules said with some urgency, placing a consoling yet insistent hand on Amit’s shoulder. “Right,” Amit agreed. “If you hear anything about services for
him ...,” Amit said to Joshua.
“Of course. An e-mail will be sent to everyone. You’re on the list,
right?”
“I am.”
They waited for him to reverse the wheelchair into the corridor. Amit
turned out the lights, then he and Jules went outside and shut the door. “Good to see you, Joshua,” Amit said.
Joshua bid them farewell. He worked the hand rims to swivel the chair,
then proceeded down the corridor toward his post.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said.
“Wait. There’s one more thing before we go,” Amit said, his eyes not
budging until Joshua had squeaked around the corner. “This way,” he said,
waving for her to follow.
28
******
Amit led Jules through the octagonal Tower Hall with its Byzantine vaults, then swiftly through the South Octagon, where Jules caught a glimpse of a glyph-covered stele of Pharaoh Seti I. They headed straight for the South Gallery—one of the museum’s two long, rectangular halls used in the 1950s and ’60s as a scrollery for deciphering the Dead Sea Scrolls.
Amit greeted the pretty young docent named Rebecca, who was pacing the room with arms crossed behind her back; then he made for the room’s center.
The refurbished gallery, with its elongated, high-set windows and Romanesque coffered ceiling, was filled with boxy, four-legged glass display cases that had been in use since the 1920s British Mandate era (all in keeping with tradition). Among the relics here, one could view the physical remains of Israel’s ancient peoples: a two- hundred-thousand-yearold human skull excavated from Galilee; human remains from Mount Carmel, circa 100,000
