The Dead Sea Codex Read online

  "All women are Eves,” said Yasser Golubi to his sons. “Remember, the first Eve was a secondary creature, created out of Adam's rib to be man's companion. She is a temptress and a weak vessel. Like the serpent, she is not to be trusted."

  "But why then do so many women today work in jobs in the city? How can they get work if they are not to be trusted?” Mo asked. Farras knew his brother dated some of these “office girls,” but his father remained thankfully ignorant.

  "That is the evil influence of the West, encouraging women to leave the home,” replied his father. “The ways of the West are not our ways. We believe our wives and daughters do their best work making the home run smoothly, cooking good food, and raising our next generation."

  It was at the Beirut café Farras had first hooked up with the Eagle, a major wheel in the radical group Les Agents de Dieu. Farras had been nineteen, ripe for change, and weary of always being in his father's orbit.

  The Eagle had cultivated him, paid for his degree in political science at the University of Beirut, and secured him a job at the prestigious Israel Museum.

  "You can be so much more useful if you live in Jerusalem,” the Eagle said. “After all, Jerusalem is the religious hub of three great religions, full of pilgrims and holy places revered by millions."

  As Farras quickly learned, Jerusalem was a crossroads for dozens of religious splinter groups that traveled to the Holy Land to recruit new members. Walls, restaurant entrances, and bus stops were littered with religious graffiti, pamphlets, free newsletters, and propaganda of all kinds.

  His mission was to monitor this flow of information, ferreting out any groups or publications that professed un-orthodox beliefs on the Virgin Birth, the divinity of Christ, the Resurrection, or the role of women in the church. Women were supposed to efface themselves, to be seen and not heard. In Coptic churches, women sat separately, away from the men.

  Les Agents de Dieu used the Nicene Creed of the fourth century as their fundamental text: And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten son of God, and born of the Farther, before all ages ... begotten not made...

  "Those who question the divinity of the Son of God are the same ones who question the Virgin birth,” the Eagle told him.

  "You mean, they think the Christ was just a man, a prophet rather than a Messiah."

  "Yes. And that Mary, being human, could not conceive a son via the Holy Spirit but only by union with a man. And we cannot let beliefs like that spread."

  Farras would find out who the key players were in each splinter group, and pass along the information to the Eagle. What happened to heretic organizers and writers after he denounced them was not Farras’ concern, though he watched the newspapers for sudden business closings, disappearances, and occasionally deaths that followed his transfer of information.

  I am only doing my job. It is the will of God that these things happen.

  Only a year ago, the Eagle had given him a new job. “As a museum employee, you are in a unique position to monitor ancient documents before they are published. We want you to intercept any finds of scrolls or codices, especially those coming out of the Dead Sea region. We don't want any more Gnostic gospels like the ones by Mary and Thomas to reach the West."

  Farras understood that to mean any new text that supported theories about Mary Magdalene's larger role as an early Church leader or as the spouse of Jesus. A woman's place was in the home. Many members of Les Agents admired radical Muslims who had rebelled against Western practices and forced their women to stay covered and out of public life.

  The Hawk meditated on these things while he finished arranging the museum storeroom so it was ready for the next visit of the American scholars. He glanced at his watch. Time to meet the Eagle in the Old City.

  No doubt the Eagle would have special plans for dealing with the archaeologists searching for the new codex.

  Foreigners. Meddlers. The enemy.

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  Chapter Fourteen

  Hell and destruction are never full; so the eyes of man are never satisfied. [Proverbs 27:20]

  LISA DONAHUE ENTERED the Israel Museum ahead of Ellen Perkins, who had to stop and buy an admission ticket. Fingering her guest scholar badge, Lisa frowned as she noticed a tall guard with red hair standing near the Information Desk. Why was he familiar? Then she was distracted by the arrival of the Israeli curator, whose female-detecting radar had honed in on Ellen.

  Arieh Golovey introduced himself to Ellen, puffing out his chest and lingering over his handshake.

  "Lisa tells me you arrive for a visit,” he said charmingly, as they walked to his office.

  "That's right, I'm here on a two-week vacation. And to make sure Lisa doesn't work too hard. I'm the conservator in the same museum where Lisa works.” Lisa watched as Ellen went into full flirt mode.

  "Ah, yes! Then surely you want a tour of our facilities? I arrange it."

  Ellen smiled at the Israeli curator.

  The intercom on his desk buzzed. Arieh pushed the button and spoke to his secretary in Hebrew, which Lisa was able to understand. “Who is it? Moham ... Moshe? Oh. I can't talk to him right now; tell him I'll call back. And bring three coffees for my guests."

  He turned to Lisa and switched back to English. “Well, now we can talk. Please, sit down, both of you.” He gestured to the chairs near his desk. “I am afraid I have bad news. The dealer of the Roman jars has disappeared. We think he has left the city, and no one knows when he'll be back."

  Lisa was not surprised. Everything about the manuscripts was slippery and shadowy. “So you have no more information on their provenance?"

  "Not yet. But our registrar will be back tomorrow—she may have some ideas."

  Lisa opted to stay behind in the storeroom/workroom while Arieh took Ellen on a tour of the Conservation Laboratory next door.

  Lisa walked slowly along the table holding the Roman jars, checking her notes from the other day. It seemed to her that at least one jar had been removed. She searched for the one with the papyrus, but found only a smudge on the brown paper where it had stood. Perhaps Arieh knew about the fragment after all? Or had someone else discovered it?

  She could hear the curator and her best friend laughing.

  Arieh and Ellen were trading travel jokes when they rejoined Lisa in the storeroom.

  "Hey, Lisa! Arieh here is going to show me around the Temple Mount and the Wailing Wall,” said Ellen.

  Lisa sensed that Ellen would take full advantage of Arieh's company. But then Arieh would take advantage of Ellen, so maybe they were destined for each other.

  "I'll pick you up at four,” Arieh said to Ellen. “We'll have a tour, then I take you to dinner."

  "Super."

  As they headed for the lobby again, Lisa asked Arieh, “Who's that tall guard, the one with red hair?"

  "Red hair? You must mean Ira, Ira Levine. You want to meet him?"

  "No, that's okay. I just thought I'd seen him outside the museum somewhere."

  She had. He was the man who had been smoking a cigarette near Yacoub Haddad's shop last night.

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  Chapter Fifteen

  Beware that no one lead you astray ... [Gospel of Mary]

  THE VIA DOLORSA captivated Ellen, as it had thousands of pilgrims before her.

  She stood on the street next to the Franciscan Chapel of the Flagellation, mesmerized by the potent combination of stunning architecture and religious awe. Stone arches stretched over their route, punctuated with glimpses of the deep blue Mediterranean sky.

  Ellen took a deep breath and looked at Arieh. “This is the second Station of the Cross, right?” she asked.

  "Right. Where the Romans flogged Jesus.” Arieh took her arm. “See that arch with two windows up ahead? That's the Ecce Homo Arch, where Pontius Pilate cried ‘Behold the Man.’”

  Ellen shivered a little. It seemed ghoulish to be walking the path of cruelty and death on a fine spring day. She
changed the subject as they approached the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. “I want to learn some Hebrew. How do you say, how are you?"

  "Mah shlo meyhk?"

  "And what time is it?"

  "Mah ha sha ah?” Arieh grinned down at Ellen.

  Ellen smiled back. She had really enjoyed climbing the Tower of David and viewing the introductory film on the history and archaeology of Old Jerusalem. Arieh knew about the local architecture, telling her about the famous stone used by countless builders for the city's massive walls: an Israeli white-gold limestone that was unusually hard and durable. Now he was taking her to a point where they could actually walk along the walls of the city and admire the rocky hills around Jerusalem.

  "So how long have you been friends with Lisa Donahue?” Arieh asked.

  "Since grad school. We were in some classes together, then I switched into conservation and had to make up some chemistry.” Ellen chuckled, remembering her struggles with organic chemistry and Lisa's unflagging support in the form of fresh coffee beans and pastry from South Philly's Italian market.

  "And the other American archaeologist, Gregory Manzur? You know him, too?"

  "Not well—I just met him this trip. He and Lisa were an item years ago."

  "An item? I do not know this expression."

  Ellen laughed. “It means they were girlfriend and boyfriend—lovers—when Lisa was a student here, an undergraduate."

  "And the item, it continues?"

  "Ah—no. Lisa is engaged to someone back home."

  "Ah,” said Arieh skeptically. Judging from his roving eyes, the Israeli felt an engagement was no reason to stop courting an attractive woman. “And Lisa is helping Manzur with his work?"

  "I think they're just having a good time,” replied Ellen warily, remembering that Greg and Lisa had both asked her to keep quiet about their activities. She had seen the way Greg looked at Lisa yesterday. Privately, she thought her best friend was having pre-wedding jitters. That, plus being away from her fiancé in a foreign country in high-stress circumstances, was a recipe for disaster.

  Unlike Lisa, Ellen was whole of heart and fancy-free. She eyed her handsome companion. A positive hunk, fun to be with and clearly available for dalliance. Just the ticket for a vacation romance. No history, no recriminations, no second thoughts. Much the way she preferred things. Ellen believed she had as much right as any man to take her pleasure where she found it and hang the consequences. So far, consequences had not caught up with her and she hoped they never would.

  "Mr. Manzur is interested in Roman jars and ancient manuscripts, yes?” persisted Arieh.

  "Isn't everyone?” Ellen tilted her face up at Arieh and looped her arm through his. “How ‘bout we stop for a drink after you show me the view?” she purred.

  Arieh responded with a little squeeze and a devastating smile. “I'll take you to Michael's Bar."

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  Chapter Sixteen

  When we were Hebrews we were orphans, with only a mother, but when we became Christians we had a father and a mother. [Gospel of Philip]

  THE NEXT EVENING Lisa persuaded Greg to join Ellen and Arieh for dinner. Greg, initially dubious, changed his mind about coming. Lisa suspected his reasons had nothing to do with her and everything to do with infiltrating the Israel Museum by getting to know their staff members.

  They convened at the Omayyah Restaurant in East Jerusalem, a popular eatery famous for its shawarma (roast lamb) and shish kebab.

  Lisa eyed Arieh Golovey with distaste. The man was getting increasingly annoying. He was cocky, hormone-driven, and way too good-looking.

  Ellen was clearly hooked. Lisa observed her operating again in full flirt mode, tilting her cute little button nose at Arieh and leaning towards him at every opportunity. From long experience, Lisa knew her best friend was embarking on a new conquest.

  Ellen was recounting their tour of the Old City the previous evening. “You should have seen the way Arieh dealt with the little Arab boys who were pestering me for money,” she cooed. “He totally ensnared them by telling jokes about camels and then sent them away to fetch him a Coke."

  Arieh smiled a shit-eating grin and visibly flexed his arms. Ellen shifted in her chair in response. “I am living in Jerusalem a long time. There's nothing I don't know about the Old City and its people. Before I took this job, I was a tour guide for City of Gold Tour Company. When we go to Masada, you will see."

  Lisa was not keen on Arieh's proposed trip to Masada. She'd rather go with just Greg, even though she knew such an adventure would be dangerous for her virtue. She flashed a look at Greg. From the way he was fidgeting, she figured he didn't like Arieh any better than she did. Not for the first time, she missed Tom Henderson intensely. But Tom was thousands of miles away in Philadelphia.

  The waiter brought them another round of Goldstars.

  Ellen said, “I think a weekend on Masada would be so cool! I want to sleep in Herod's Palace, near the mosaics."

  "It's illegal to stay up there overnight,” Lisa reminded them.

  Arieh waved a hairy arm. “Not to worry. I have connections. We can have permission to stay over. I've done it before, you see.” His luminous blue eyes caressed Ellen's eager face. “Trust me, it will be fun."

  Greg made a dubious noise, and Lisa tried not to laugh.

  "Besides,” continued Arieh, “four is a safer number in the desert. We need to haul plenty of water and food, and it's always good to have extra bodies if someone gets hurt."

  He grinned at Greg as he said this, and Lisa felt a spasm of unease. Was the Israeli implying that the women needed protection, or that Greg was the one who might get hurt?

  Their entrees arrived with plates of hummus, baba ganoush, and a heaped basket of fresh, warm pita bread.

  Arieh scooped up satiny smooth hummus with a wedge of pita. “We'll be near some interesting caves up there. Close to where ancient manuscripts have been found in the past.” His tone expressed only mild interest, but Lisa's gaze sharpened. She looked from Arieh to Greg, who was tense.

  "Yeah,” said Greg. “Could be fun to explore."

  "It's a big territory,” said Lisa. She had a quick flashback to a weekend hike she had taken with Greg seven years ago. When they were both younger and fitter, carrying fifty-pound packs and climbing mountains like goats. And how Greg had set up the tiny backpacking tent, and had zipped the two sleeping bags together. She blushed and returned to the present. “Which weekend are we talking about now?"

  "How about next weekend?” replied Ellen, mindful of Lisa's revised travel plans.

  "That would work,” said Lisa. “I still have to fly to London to consult with a couple of specialists at the British Museum about the loans for our exhibit. And my ticket is non-refundable."

  The entrees arrived. Lisa inhaled the fragrance of roasted meat, garlic, and fresh pita. Greg and Arieh began to devour the shawarma special. Lisa stripped her kebab of succulent chunks of perfectly marinated and cooked beef, and Ellen dove into a steaming platter of eggplant and fava beans.

  "Fine,” said Arieh. “We'll gather the night before, on Friday, at Greg's apartment and then leave before the slit of dawn to drive to Masada."

  "Crack of dawn,” said Greg.

  Arieh raised a golden eyebrow and grinned. “Okay, crack of dawn. Dessert, anyone?” He asked, rubbing his flat stomach. No one responded. “No? Then let's pay and go to a disco I know—the Black Cat.” He leered at Ellen. “Bet I can teach you a dance you do not know."

  "I doubt it,” said Ellen, dimpling. “But you can try."

  Lisa sighed. Given a choice, she'd rather go back to Greg's and help Salima and Farid with the codex translation than visit a noisy disco. But Arieh bothered her, and she didn't entirely trust Ellen out alone with him.

  Besides, Greg was a great dancer.

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  Chapter Seventeen

  Do not give what is holy to dogs, or they might throw them upon the
manure pile. Do not throw pearls [to] swine, or they might make [mud] of it. [Gospel of Thomas]

  A COUPLE OF HOURS later, Greg and Lisa staggered out of the Black Cat. Lisa stood in the middle of the narrow street and gulped fresh air; she had a headache from all the smoke. Greg did shoulder rolls and groaned—he had pulled a muscle trying to show off on the dance floor.

  Ellen and Arieh were still dancing the night away. They seemed equally matched in hormonal output and sheer animal energy. Ellen showed no signs of jet lag. Lisa, on the other hand, wanted to sleep for a week.

  Lisa and Greg took an Egged bus back to the Jaffa Gate. Greg's neighborhood, the crumbling Armenian Quarter of the Old City, was not far away—at least not at Greg's rate of walking. Ararat Street was quiet and poorly lit at this late hour.

  "How long have Salima and Farid known each other?” Lisa asked Greg, trying to slow him down a little.

  "Years. Since undergraduate days, maybe before. The two families know each other, but marriage is usually arranged for business and political reasons among the most traditional families."

  "Even now, in the twentieth century?"

  "Oh, yes. Remember, you're in a part of the world where some things haven't changed for three thousand years."

  "What does Farid say?"

  Greg smiled. “Farid's father wanted him to marry the daughter of one of his colleagues—a butcher, I think, but Farid has almost persuaded him that Salima is the better choice. Not only does Farid love her, but her family is well-respected and the two fathers have business connections in common."

  Lisa couldn't imagine what an arranged marriage would be like in Boston. One of her father's business associates, like that lawyer from New York? She shuddered, grateful that her upbringing and her move to Philadelphia had removed all possibility of family influence on her choice of marriage partner.

  Ignoring the complaints from her abused calf muscles, Lisa led the way up the steep stairs to Greg's apartment, the left hand side of a decrepit building that had Roman marble blocks incorporated into its foundations.