Authors: Jerry B. Jenkins
I, Saul (28 page)
Sofia's phone had been hacked too. For all Augie knew the Art Squad had been tailing them since they arrived. Could they have seen him stash the parchment in the rental? He didn't want to be paranoid, but surely someone as highly placed as Aldo Sardinia could be that technologically savvy.
When Augie turned north on the east side of the piazza, his phone vibrated. Augie fought to remain casual as he pulled it from his pocket. Roger had texted: “screwed up. ditched phone. holy cross now.”
Fortunately Augie had led enough tours to know the Pontifical University of the Holy Cross was almost immediately north of him. When Sofia rounded the corner at the end of Piazza Navona, he signaled her to wait there. As if she'd been born to espionage, she stopped at a kiosk and appeared to be studying what was posted there.
When Augie passed behind her, he said under his breath, “Holy Cross.” As he reached the corner where the great university stood, he slowed as if just taking in its expanse. His phone vibrated twice. Texts from both Roger and Biff Dyer in Dallas.
He checked Roger's first. “c u. where 2 find me in a min.”
Biff's read, “success. can u talk?”
“No.Text pls.”
“K.”
Roger again: “walk in shadows.”
The sun was deep in the west already, so Augie moved to the east side of the complex where the buildings blocked its rays. As he turned the corner he noticed Sofia behind him.
Another photo appeared on his cell, the sign for a tiny eatery. Roger texted, “200 ft left & down.”
Roger must have believed he had eluded whoever was after him to feel safe below street level. Augie would have chosen higher ground, but then neither had he ever run for his life.
Augie squinted into the sky at the
thwock-thwock-thwock
of a helicopter. The chopper looked official, military or police. His phone read, “that's 4 me. u armed?”
Augie responded, “u got 2 b kidding.”
“have the 9?”
“2 many people.”
“b ready.”
“Not 4 aircraft.”
“hurry.”
Augie thought it better not to be seen running rather than gawking like everyone else, so he just kept walking and looking up. The whirly-bird drifted south toward the other end of the piazza. Several
polizia
cars headed that way, as well as a few uniforms on foot.
Augie slowed when he thought he'd gone about sixty yards, and Roger texted, “don't miss it. where'd chopper go?”
“South, past Navona.”
“whew.”
Augie saw the sign and trotted down a short flight of stone stairs, knowing Sofia was close enough to see him. The place was nearly empty, dingy with dark wood paneling lit only by a dim knockoff Tiffany. Roger peeked over the top of a menu from a booth near the back.
The restaurant was secluded, but Augie feared they could be sitting ducks. He slid into the booth but didn't like having his back to the door. “There's an exit behind me too,” Roger said, nodding toward a rusty door under a sign with an arrow:
Bagno.
“Got to go?” Roger said.
“Thankfully, no. Now what happened? How'd you wind up here?” Roger hesitated and looked up as a
cameriera
approached and set a dog-eared menu before Augie.
“Cafffè?”
she said.
“Please, and some bread and olive oil.”
She hesitated, so Roger said with a heavy French accent,
“Per favore e solo pane.”
He turned to Augie. “The
olio d'oliva
is on the table.”
When the waitress left, Augie said, “I don't know how you do that.”
“Helps to know lots of languages.”
Augie heard footsteps and saw Roger make eye contact as Sofia moved past and slid into the next booth with her back to them, close enough to listen.
“So I go for a walk,” Roger said, “and I want to be back to the Terrazzo by the time Sofia and the other guy get there. But I'm convinced I can't stay hidden much longer with the whole government looking for me.”
“You're right,” Augie said.
“So I grab a cab and head this way, thinking I'd just like to see the sights again, maybe for the last time.”
“You said you screwed up.”
“Did I ever.”
Roger fell silent again when the
cameriera
delivered warm bread and approached Sofia, who ordered a salad.
Roger continued, “You know I've been changing phones almost every day, but like an idiot, while I'm walking around here I start wondering
whether Sardinia has been trying to call me. The only number he has for me is my old voice mail. So I dial in and listen to a bunch of messages from travel agencies, then to a few calls from people horrified by what they saw about me on the news. I finally get to one from Sardinia. Says I'd better find him before he finds me or I'm gonna regret it. What else is new, right? Then it hits me. All that time I spent listening to messages left my new phone vulnerable. Of course they'd be monitoring my voice mail.”
“But your distress call to me was from that phone.”
“Just before I ditched it south of Navona. I was a couple of blocks from where the carabinieri had set up a checkpoint. With that phone I'd been carrying I might as well have fired off a flare. I speed-dialed you, tossed the phone, and got moving north.”
“You should have grabbed a cab back to the hotel.”
“I should have done a lot of things, Augie, but I've never been hunted before. That chopper went south because they tracked my phone to the trash bin.”
“Creative. Why not down a sewer grate?”
“Like I said, I'm an amateur.”
Augie's phone buzzed and he found a text from Biff. “See below number used 2 hack ST's.” Augie didn't recognize it, but slid his phone across the table to Roger. “Slip this to Sofia.”
Roger stretched and reached the phone behind him to Sofia. As soon as she looked at the screen she whirled in her seat and glared at Augie.
Anticipation
The next night the guards lifted away the new wood disk that covered the hole in the floor, and as Luke descended, Paul darted toward the light as a moth to flame. When the covering slid back across the opening, Paul moaned.
“Patience, my friend,” Luke whispered. “I've brought the lamp.”
“I have been in utter darkness other than around midday when they delivered a bowl of the wretched cold gruel.”
Luke lit his lamp and pulled food from his pockets. The condemned man sighed and bowed his head to give thanks. With a crust of bread in his shaking hand, he said, “I have lived through shipwreck, stoning, flogging, and prison, but this blackness is the worst. When my friends who walked with Jesus quoted Him about casting men into outer darkness,
I could barely comprehend it. Now I shudder at the thought. At least I feel His presence, even while enduring this.”
Luke reached with the hem of his sleeve to wipe tears from Paul's cheeks.
“Luke, I look forward to heaven more every day.”
“You know what I look forward to every night? Your wonderful story. I pray for you constantly while reading it.”
I hardly slept that night, so eager was I to break the news to Rabban Gamaliel in the morning. During breakfast I pestered Father about things at Hillel he would have no way of knowing.
He merely smiled. “Life is easier when you simply let it unfold.”
“What will I do onboard when we sail home?”
“Stay out of the way of the crew, study, pray, try to keep from becoming seasick.”
“Have you ever been seasick?”
“Once on a short fishing trip when I was a little older than you, and once was enough. As I hung over the bow, adding chum to the water, someone assured me I wouldn't die from seasickness. But it was the hope of dying that was keeping me alive.”
I laughed. “You need to tell Rabban Gamaliel that story!”
“No I don't, and neither do you. He's probably heard it. It's an old joke.”
All the way to the Hillel school I ran and threw rocks and sticks at trees and even whistled. I couldn't help imagining coming back here with my whole family. No more sitting in a classroom with a bunch of kids just memorizing and reciting and asking a question or two. I would be conversing with a leading scholar, digging deeply into the texts.
Gamaliel welcomed us into his office.
Father said, “Can you tell our verdict by the boy's smile?”
“I'm pleased,” the headmaster said. “Too often new students are fearful, knowing the work will not be easy.”
“I don't want it to be easy,” I said. “I want to be challenged, to learn all there is to learn.”
“That's the kind of a student I was,” Gamaliel said. “I still am. I work every day with members of the Sanhedrin who clearly feel that because they have attained some status, they can no longer be taught. I hope you find, as I have, that the more you know, the more you realize how much you don't.”
“I can't wait to get started.”
“You are going to be a joy to teach. But beware, bright and thoughtful as you are, even you will find we push students to their limits. At home you may be far ahead of others your age, but we attract the best students from all over the world. Distractions may creep in. What else are you passionate about?”
“He's very athletic,” Father said, “but he is a scholar at heart.”
“Females are not a distraction?”
 “Not until yesterday,” Father said with a smile.
My face burned. How could he say that in front of the girl's father?
Gamaliel said, “It was not lost on me that you were taken with Naomi. As you become interested in the opposite sex, you may find your studies suffering. We will strive to keep your mind on your education.”
Embarrassment shut my mouth. While Gamaliel and Father chatted, I sat studying the floor, hoping my humiliation would pass.
Father must have noticed, because he changed the subject. “I'm told there is a good market for quality tents here.”
But before Gamaliel could respond, someone passed his door and he called out, “Oh, Nathanael, a moment please!”
That was the first time I laid eyes on a man for whom, as an adult, I would work for many years. He was dressed in priestly robes and had an orange beard. Gamaliel introduced us and said, “Nathanael is vice chief justice of the Sanhedrin and teaches here when he has time. My own son Simeon, who was recently bar mitzvahed, is one of his students.”
I must have looked surprised, having just met Simeon, because Nathanael said, “Rabban Gamaliel's son is a fine-looking lad but does not yet look his age. And you,” he said, nodding at me, “though small, if you had a beard, look as if you could teach here.”
The three men laughed, but I felt very much my age.
Four days later Father and I arrived at the great port at Caesarea. Anchored there was a magnificent ship, its hull
sealed with tar so that it looked like a great black beast. I guessed it was at least a hundred feet long. The crewman assigned to guide us aboard was barefoot and unkempt. I found him hard to understand.
“How many will be on this boat?” I said.
“Not boat, ship! About three hundred.”
“How heavy is this boatâship?”
“Afraid she'll sink?”
“Just curious.”
“Something like four hundred thousand pounds fully loaded. All powered by that huge foresail up top. Once it's open to the wind, that will be all we need to sail us to Tarsus.”
Other passengers and cargo were being loaded, and the ship was already rocking. I rather enjoyed the motion. On the main deck I was fascinated by all the activity, and the ship itself. What fun this was going to be!
When I asked a man tending the ropes one question too many, he said, “You want to learn to tie this knot?” It proved nowhere near as easy as he made it look. My hands were too small and smooth to manipulate the thick cords.
When I finally produced a sloppy knot, he asked if I wanted to meet the captain. Did I ever! I followed him to a cramped space with a small bunk, a few instruments, and a map.
When the captain welcomed me aboard, I blurted, “How big a storm can this ship survive?”
That launched him into a litany of his most harrowing voyages, from squalls to waterspouts to hurricanes. He
recalled “waves higher than three stories, which almost capsized us.”
“Ever been shipwrecked?” I said.
“Only once, long before I was a captain, and on a much smaller vessel. Ran into a storm that broke us up off the coast of Egypt. Crew of a dozen, and only ten of us reached the shore. But don't you worry, lad. It would take a bigger storm than I've ever seen to threaten this craft.”
We finally cast off late that afternoon, and I became enraptured by the whole idea of sailing. This was the life! I loved the sights, the smells, the sounds, all of it.
As the craft leaned into the waves, I could hardly wait for us to reach Tarsus and then make the return trip in time for school. I couldn't imagine much sailing as a rabbi, but neither had I expected to become so enamored of sailing from city to city. Now I couldn't get enough of it.
