Page 24 of The Copper Scroll


  in the territory of those

  Canaanites living in the Arabah

  in the vicinity of Gilgal.

  Natasha pointed to the English text on the first screen, and then to her notes on the second. “See where the scroll’s author writes ‘you are to proclaim’—then there’s an extra space—‘the blessings, and’—then there’s another extra space—‘the curses’—then another extra space—then the phrase ‘as you know.’”

  The Bennetts nodded.

  “Now look at the actual biblical text,” said Natasha. “The full sentence should read, ‘You are to proclaim on Mount Gerizim the blessings, and on Mount Ebal the curses.’ But in the scroll version, the words ‘on Mount Gerizim’ and ‘on Mount Ebal’ are missing from the text.”

  “That is odd,” said Bennett, studying the passage more closely.

  Then Erin said, “Wait a minute. Gerizim and Ebal—those are mentioned in the Copper Scroll.”

  “They are?” asked Bennett, surprised but pleased that Erin was thinking clearly enough to recall such an obscure detail.

  Natasha nodded and looked impressed. “Somebody was doing her homework. You studied the translation my grandfather gave you and Jon back at the Jordan Archaeological Museum in Amman, didn’t you?”

  Erin nodded.

  “Gerizim and Ebal are two mountains north of Jerusalem and due west of where we just discovered the Key Scroll,” Natasha said. “Line 61 of the Copper Scroll refers directly to Mount Gerizim.”

  She pulled up a digital image of the Copper Scroll on one laptop screen and the English translation of line 61 on the other. Bennett read it aloud.

  “On Mount Garizin,

  underneath the staircase

  of the upper tunnel:

  a chest and all its contents,

  and sixty talents of silver.”

  “You’re sure it’s talking about the same mountain?” he asked.

  “The spelling is different,” Natasha noted. “But yes, that’s it.”

  “So could those be the mountains where the treasure is buried?” he pressed.

  They all looked at each other with anticipation. They were on to something.

  “They could be,” said Natasha. “After all, if what we’ve got really is the Key Scroll, then whoever wrote it came up with a pretty ingenious code for keeping the treasures secret.”

  Bennett wasn’t sure he followed. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning it would take someone who has a tremendous knowledge and understanding of the Holy Scriptures to break this code,” Natasha explained. “They would have to be able to find this scroll. Then they’d have to be able to read it, which means they would have to be able to read Hebrew, and not many Romans could. Then they’d have to know that the words in the scroll were actually Scripture. And even if they did realize that the text was Scripture, they would still have to figure out that each paragraph was a different portion of Scripture and that certain phrases of those Scriptures were missing. Then they’d have to know where each portion of Scripture was found so they could accurately identify the missing phrases. And, of course, they’d have to do it all without the aid of computers.”

  She was right, Bennett realized, and his anticipation began to grow.

  53

  SATURDAY, JANUARY 17 – 10:20 a.m. – THE ROAD TO BOSTON

  “Code in.”

  “Sigma delta niner, alpha five sigma.”

  “Stand by for authentification. . . . Okay, go ahead. You are connected.”

  “Viggo, we have a problem,” said Indira Rajiv as she headed toward Boston.

  “No, we don’t,” said Mariano. “We’ve got them.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Rajiv.

  “The Bennetts and the Barak girl—I’m telling you we found them.”

  “Where?”

  “They’re holed up in a house in Tiberias,” said Mariano. “We picked up their trail as they were coming out of the tunnel in the Golan Heights. My team and I followed them here. We’ve got them under surveillance. I just got off the phone with Farouk and Al-Hassani. They want me to camp out here until the Bennetts make their next move.”

  Golan. So her hunch had been correct. “Did they find the Key Scroll?” she asked.

  “They did,” Mariano confirmed. “They’re decoding it now. We’ve got laser microphones trained on the windows. We’re listening to everything they’re saying.”

  “Have they figured out where the treasures are yet?” asked Rajiv. “Or the Ark?”

  “No, not yet, but they seem to be getting close,” he assured her. “By the way, thanks for the tip. I still can’t believe they actually asked you about Donovan and Harkin. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.”

  “I know,” said Rajiv. “Once I got the e-mail, I knew they were headed to the Golan. I didn’t know exactly where, of course, but I guess you guys took care of that.”

  “When do you think they’ll contact you?” Mariano asked. “They may need your help again.”

  “That may be a problem,” said Rajiv.

  “Why?”

  “I’m on the run.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “They’re on to me,” Rajiv explained. “The president found out yesterday morning that I’m one of only seven people within our government who knew about Doron’s Temple project. He doesn’t know it’s me. None of them do. But it was only a matter of time.”

  “How much time?”

  “If I’d stayed, I’d have been in jail by nightfall.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Trying to get out of the country.”

  “Can you make it?”

  “I think so,” she said. “I’ve got a decent head start. I left a message for my boss that I wasn’t feeling well and was going to a doctor’s appointment at noon. I said I’d be in sometime in the afternoon.”

  “But it’s Saturday,” said Mariano.

  “They don’t care,” said Rajiv. “It’s the CIA.”

  “What about your husband?”

  “He’ll think I got home late, left early. Happens all the time. I left him a note reminding him to meet me at the Kennedy Center tonight for a concert. I’ll leave him a message on his cell phone in a few hours, tell him I love him. I doubt he’ll be suspicious until nightfall.”

  “You’d better be right,” said Mariano.

  “Where do you want me?” asked Rajiv, changing the subject.

  “Head for Rome.”

  “Why not Milan?”

  “Rome is better. We have more assets there. I’ll have someone meet you at the airport. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of everything. Do you have the files we asked for with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Perfect.”

  “But I want to meet him,” said Rajiv.

  “What, face-to-face?”

  “Of course.”

  “When?”

  “By the end of the week.”

  “No, that’s impossible.”

  “Do you want the files or don’t you?”

  “Of course we want them, but . . . ”

  “Then I want a meeting—face-to-face—just me and him.”

  “And you’ll get one, but not right now. Too much is happening, and we can’t afford for you to be out in the open for long. Just get to Rome and we’ll make sure you’re safe. I’ll meet with you as soon as I can, probably a couple of days at most.”

  “You didn’t recruit me,” said Rajiv, defiantly. “He did.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m running this operation, not him.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Viggo,” Rajv shot back. “I know too much.”

  “Are you threatening me?” he asked.

  “You’d have nothing without me, and you know it. Now I want to see him before the week is out. Alone. I don’t care how you do it. Just make it happen.”

  54

  SUNDAY, JANUARY 18 – 11:23 p.m. – TIBERIAS, ISRAEL

  Nat
asha had been working around the clock.

  Exhausted and edgy, she had steered clear of both Bennetts for the last day or so as she continued trying to crack the code. But now she called them both to the kitchen.

  “Whoever wrote this stuff was absolutely brilliant,” she said, her eyes weary and bloodshot, when the Bennetts sat down with her at the table where her computers, notebooks, maps, and Bibles were all spread out. “Obviously, they kept the Romans from ever even finding the Copper Scroll. But even if the Romans had found and deciphered it, they’d never have found the treasure. They’d have been on a wild-goose chase. The treasure isn’t buried in sixty-three different locations. It’s only buried in one.”

  “You’re sure?” asked Bennett.

  “As sure as I can be,” said Natasha. “I’ve studied the scroll Jon found in the tunnel from every possible angle, and I am now convinced, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it is the Key Scroll. This is the real thing.”

  Bennett breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Erin. Over the past several hours her strength had been returning, and now a beautiful smile broke out across her face.

  “What clinched it for you?” he asked.

  “Pontius Pilate,” Natasha replied.

  “The guy who condemned Jesus to die?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you know how Pilate left office?” Natasha asked.

  “No,” Jon and Erin admitted.

  “He was forced out.”

  “Why?” asked Erin.

  “Because he ordered the slaughter of a group of Samaritans who believed a great treasure was buried on Mount Gerizim.”

  “Really?” said Bennett. “I’ve never heard that.”

  “Josephus tells the story in The Antiquities of the Jews,” Natasha explained. “Look, I’ll show you.”

  She pulled up a Web site with the complete works of Josephus and did a search for Pilate. A moment later, she found book 18, chapter 4, section 1.

  But the nation of the Samaritans did not escape without tumults. The man who excited them to it, was one who thought lying a thing of little consequence, and who contrived everything so that the multitude might be pleased; so he bade them get together upon Mount Gerizzim, which is by them looked upon as the most holy of all mountains, and assured them that, when they were come thither, he would show them those sacred vessels which were laid under that place, because Moses put them there. So they came thither armed. . . . But Pilate prevented their going up, by seizing upon the roads with a great band of horsemen and footmen. . . . and Pilate ordered [them] to be slain.

  They went on to read about how Pilate was reprimanded by his superiors for the massacre and forced to leave his post in Jerusalem. Then Natasha said, “Moses never crossed the Jordan, so obviously he could never have buried ‘those sacred vessels’ on Mount Gerizim. But what’s interesting about Josephus’s account is how strong the tradition was in the region that Temple treasures, perhaps even including the Ark, were buried on that mountain. And if that weren’t enough, there are still some six hundred or so Samaritans living in Israel today, and they are convinced that the Messiah will come one day and show them where that great treasure is buried on Mount Gerizim.”

  They were getting closer.

  “That’s the good news,” said Natasha. “Now the bad news.”

  Confused, Jon and Erin followed Natasha as she abruptly left the kitchen and sat down on the balcony, staring out across the Sea of Galilee as storm clouds gathered over the Golan Heights in the distance.

  “What bad news?” Erin asked, taking a seat on one of the cushioned lounge chairs and wrapping herself with a wool blanket.

  “Gerizim was the site of a Samaritan temple—a temple long considered heretical by the Jews,” said Natasha. “What’s more, at the time the Copper Scroll and the Key Scroll were written and hidden, Mount Gerizim was the site of a Roman military stronghold, as well as a major Roman palace. The ruins are still there today.”

  “And?”

  “Well, why would the Jews risk burying the entire Temple treasure so close to their worst enemy? It doesn’t fit.”

  “What about Mount Ebal?” Bennett asked.

  Natasha sighed. “The problem there is that the Scriptures refer to Mount Ebal as a mountain of curses. It seems unlikely that the Jews who wrote this scroll would hide the Temple treasures in a mountain of curses.”

  It was quiet for a few minutes, save for the sound of some birds flying over the sea. Bennett leaned back and watched the storm moving in.

  Erin, meanwhile, pulled out her Bible and began studying it carefully. “Natasha, with all due respect, I think you might be mistaken about Mount Ebal,” she said a few minutes later.

  “How so?”

  “Well, look, you’re the expert in all these archeology matters, and I don’t pretend to understand it all—certainly not like you do,” Erin said, as diplomatically as she could. “But I’m in a women’s Bible study back in Washington, and we’ve been studying the book of Joshua. And if I remember correctly, Mount Ebal itself was never cursed.”

  “Go on,” said Natasha, obviously curious.

  “Well, from what I understand—and again, I realize you’ve got a lot more training and experience than I do—the Scriptures simply say that Mount Ebal is the location where the Hebrews were supposed to explain God’s curses on those who disobey. It doesn’t actually say the mountain itself is cursed.”

  “Where are you getting this from?” asked Natasha.

  “Joshua 8:30-34. Should I read it out loud?”

  “Absolutely,” said Bennett.

  “Then Joshua built

  on Mount Ebal

  an altar to the LORD,

  the God of Israel,

  as Moses the servant of the LORD

  had commanded the Israelites.

  He built it according to

  what is written in the

  Book of the Law of Moses—

  an altar of uncut stones,

  on which no iron tool

  had been used.

  On it they offered

  to the LORD

  burnt offerings and

  sacrificed fellowship offerings.

  There, in the presence

  of the Israelites,

  Joshua copied on stones

  the law of Moses,

  which he had written.

  All Israel, aliens

  and citizens alike, . . .

  were standing on both sides of

  the ark of the covenant of the LORD,

  facing those who carried it—

  the priests, who were Levites.

  Half of the people stood

  in front of Mount Gerizim

  and half of them

  in front of Mount Ebal,

  as Moses the servant

  of the LORD

  had formerly commanded

  when he gave

  instructions to bless

  the people of Israel.

  Afterward, Joshua read all

  the words of the law—

  the blessings and the curses—

  just as it is written

  in the Book of the Law.”

  “Did the Romans ever have a fortress or palace on Mount Ebal?” asked Erin.

  Natasha shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of,” she said. “Why?”

  “Humor me for a moment,” Erin replied, “but I’m just thinking, if Mount Ebal were really cursed, why would Joshua have built an altar there? Why would he have offered sacrifices to God there? Or chiseled the Word of God into stone on Mount Ebal?”

  Natasha didn’t reply.

  “He wouldn’t have,” Erin continued. “Which means Mount Ebal couldn’t have been cursed.”

  “Where are you going with this?” Bennett asked.

  “I’m just saying, what if the author of the Copper Scroll mentioned Gerizim to throw people off track, knowing full well that the Samaritans had a temp
le there and that the Romans had a fortress there? What if that’s why no one’s ever found anything in the caves of Gerizim—because the treasure was actually buried on Mount Ebal instead?”

  55

  MONDAY, JANUARY 19 – 8:00 p.m. – BABYLON, IRAQ

  The press conference began promptly at noon Eastern Standard Time.

  Halfway around the world, Iraqi president Al-Hassani watched with great interest.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon, and thank you for coming,” began U.N. Secretary-General Luis Pipilo. “As you know, I did not seek a second term. Indeed, I had hoped to step out of this job on January first and turn over the reins of this great institution to the president of South Africa. President Mogande has been in the hospital for the past few weeks, and I have stayed on in an interim capacity until he could assume his duties here. Sadly, I must inform you that President Mogande has just been diagnosed with an inoperable cancer, and he believes that he will not be able to serve as he had hoped. He has, therefore, asked me to help find someone who will bring the necessary energy and passion to the job. After careful consideration, it is my great pleasure to nominate Dr. Salvador Ciro Lucente.”

  Two hundred flashes and autoadvancers went off as cameramen captured the moment. It was being hailed as breaking news on television networks around the world. But it was old news to Al-Hassani, and he studied the scene carefully, waiting for a signal that his fate and Lucente’s were now inextricably linked.

  “Dr. Lucente is not simply exceptionally well qualified for this position,” the secretary-general continued. “In so many ways his life represents the vision of the U.N. He was born in Barcelona on June 6, 1942, to parents who came from two different countries, two different languages, two different ethnic backgrounds. His father, Ciro Lucente, was born and raised just outside of Rome. His mother, Juanita, was born in Madrid. But when they met in the spring of 1940, they did not let their differences stand between them. They were married six weeks from the day they met.

  “When the war was over, young Salvador went to school in Spain and summered in Sicily. He went on to graduate from the University of Barcelona and from Harvard. He worked for AT&T and then started his own company . . . ”