The Sacred Blood

“Dr. Charlotte Hennesey,” the rabbi said accusatorily, claiming a second folding chair beside hers.

The way he sat immediately annoyed Charlotte: his shoulders were pulled back and his chin was tipped up as if he’d just reclaimed his throne.

Her lack of response brought a smirk to his face. “Let me make this very easy. Your coercion with the Vatican has caused me great difficulty. What they stole belongs to me and to this nation—”

“What nation?”

“Israel, of course.”

“Israel?” This rendered her mute for a three-count. “I don’t know what—”

But he held up a hand to silence her, shaking his head. “We recovered your laptop. I’ve seen everything. So let’s not waste time playing games. You’ve witnessed many things, Dr. Hennesey. Many marvelous things. Your PowerPoint presentation was most impressive. But how little you know, child. Those were no ordinary bones you so unceremoniously unpacked from that ossuary. Then again, you know that better than anyone, don’t you? I must admit that even I was surprised to learn about the physical secrets Yeshua possessed. You, a geneticist, must have been astounded.”

To this she didn’t respond. The answer would be obvious.

Charlotte pulled her arms tight across her chest. Could this lunatic be after the DNA codes, the formula for the viral serum? No doubt, its commercial potential was incalculable. And in the hands of an unscrupulous opportunist . . .

If she could just figure out what was charging this guy’s batteries.

Then the Hasid’s expression registered something very odd: admiration? His guarded posture—arms drawn protectively over the chest, shoulders rounded, hands overlapping in a tight clasp—showed vulnerability.

“You’ve acquired the gift. That’s a critical omission on your part.”

“Gift?”

“Come now, Dr. Hennesey. I am smarter than that. So I ask you this: how is it a woman who was in contact with the bones of the Messiah just so happens to have acquired His most precious gift?”

“I’m still not following.”

“ ‘Hennesey’ is an Irish name. Safe to assume you’re a Catholic, yes?”

“I was raised Catholic, although I haven’t been to church in quite some time.” Over a decade ago, cancer had stolen her mother away. It was tough to find solace in scripture after seeing someone die so mercilessly.

“But you believe in Jesus, don’t you? The stories . . . the miracles?” She stared at him for a good five seconds. “The sacred writings tell us that by simply laying his hands on the sick, he could make their ailments disappear. The sacred writings tell us that, like you, he sought truth. He too wanted to believe. That was how he was given the gift. The question is, how did it find its way to you?”

Could he possibly know about the serum, how it cured her? Even if he’d seen the genetic data, how would he have known what he was looking at? “Why don’t you tell me what the ‘gift’ is, then perhaps I can tell you if I’ve got it.”

Grinning, the rabbi combed his beard with his fingers. “You strike me as a very complicated woman. Intelligent. Brave. Strong. I would venture to guess that you’re wondering if science could ever explain miracles. Am I right?”

“You don’t need to be a scientist to be a cynic.”

He smiled tightly. “I’d like for you to explain something to me. See if your science may provide some insight.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Devora!” he called loudly. He waited for a response.

Seconds later, quick footsteps sounded in the corridor and the rabbi’s wife popped her head into the room.

“Yes,” she quietly replied, eyes cast to the floor.

“Bring Joshua to me.”

“I’m not so sure he’s ready—”

“Don’t question me!” he snapped.

“As you wish.” She immediately acquiesced.

“Most women are not like you, Charlotte.”

She felt her stomach turn.

It didn’t take long before Devora reappeared in the doorway. Charlotte was confused when she didn’t see her guiding the son’s wheelchair into the room. In fact, she hadn’t even heard the wheelchair’s squeaky rubber tires.

The mystery behind the son’s noiseless approach was quickly revealed when the terrified boy walked into the room.

53

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The Temple Mount