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Authors: Robin Cook

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BOOK: Intervention
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Tomorrow night, I help James put the ossuary back. Then Saturday you, JJ, and I are going to fly on to Jerusalem so that we can meet with someone. Sunday we will fly home. What do you think?”

“I think you are nuts,” Laurie said, without so much as a moment of thought. “You expect me to fly all night tonight with a sick four-month-old child, to be in a foreign city for not even one full day and then fly on to another city, and then fly all the way home?

How long would it take to fly from Jerusalem to New York, anyway?”

“I don’t know exactly. Probably quite a while. But that’s not the point. I want you to do this for me. I know it sounds crazy and that it will be very difficult, probably more difficult than I can imagine, but I feel it is important for me. I will help with JJ. I’ll hold him more than half the time. In Rome, we can hire a nurse to give you a little free time, same in Jerusalem. Also, he’s been better for the last three or four days, I’ve lost count.”

“It’s been three days he’s been better,” Laurie clarified.

“Okay, three days! We can do this and be back in four days. I will really help. I’d even breast-feed him if I could.”

“Yeah, sure,” Laurie scoffed. “That’s easy to say. So, on the plane you’ll hold him even if he gets antsy and excitable.”

“Yes, I will hold him. For the whole flight, if you’d like. Just say yes. You will understand more when I tell you the full story of the ossuary, which I’ll do on the plane tonight. Say yes!”

“In order for me to even consider such a nutty idea of flying to Rome and Jerusalem with a sick infant, you are going to have to tell me the full story of the ossuary right this second.”

“It will take too long.”

“Sorry, buster. That’s the deal. At least give me a synopsis.”

As quickly as he could, Jack outlined the events over the last number of days beginning with his surprise luncheon visit James’s residence and seeing the ossuary for the first time.

Although at first doubtful that she was going to find the story interesting enough to justify what Jack was demanding of her, Laurie became truly fascinated. “Oh, all right, damn you,” Laurie said suddenly, before Jack had completed has précis. “I’ll probably forget how you talked me into this moment of insanity, but you have yourself a deal, although you don’t have to hold him for the whole flight, just your share, and not just when he is sleeping, either. You are going to be holding him when he’s fidgeting as well as when he’s lying still. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly,” Jack said, his face lighting up. He leapt to his feet. “Now, I have some preparations to do and calls to make. We have to be at the archbishop’s residence by three.”

“You think you have preparations,” Laurie said, putting her book aside. “I hope we don’t regret this.”

I
n some ways Rome was a disappointment for Jack. On his other visits, which had all been in late spring, summer, and early fall, the weather had been bright, sunny, and warm. On this occasion in December, Rome was overcast, dreary, and damp, with some rain. On top of that, he’d anticipated some cloak-and-dagger intrigue involving sneaking the ossuary into the Vatican and then getting it from where they would be staying into the necropolis. Instead, what he learned was that the Vatican was more or less run like a gigantic club for the benefit of the cardinals. If you were a cardinal, anything but everything was okay.

Since James had used the same carton to take the ossuary back as it had arrived, it was naturally assumed by any handlers that the contents were his personal belongings. There had been no attempt whatsoever even to suggest opening it at the airport either on departure or arrival, or when they entered the Vatican. As James had made arrangements for all of them to stay within the Vatican at Casa di Santa Marta, named after the patron saint of hoteliers, Saint Martin, the ossuary and their checked baggage was there waiting for them when they arrived. After having claimed it all at the airport, it had gone ahead in a Vatican van, while James and his entourage had come into town on what James called, “the more scenic route.”

The Casa di Santa Marta was built to house the cardinals during a conclave when they were supposed to be attentive to the business of electing a new pope, so the décor was decidedly ascetic, another mild disappointment for Jack. When James had told them they were all staying within the Vatican, Jack had allowed himself to fantasize about some Renaissance décor.

What had been better than expected had been the night flight and JJ. Not only had JJ

slept for a long nap that afternoon, he also slept most of the night on the plane, first in Laurie’s arms, then Jack’s. Jack had had plenty of time to tell Laurie the details of the ossuary story, which he had glossed over that afternoon.

“Will I get to see it?” Laurie had asked.

“There’s no reason why not,” Jack had responded.

To eliminate any potential snafus for that night, James arranged a private tour of the necropolis for that afternoon with one of the archaeologists from the Pontifical Commission for Sacred Archaeology. When the time came for the tour to begin, JJ was again conveniently asleep, encouraging Laurie to say, “He’s catching up from the last two months.” Although Laurie was hesitant, she allowed James to talk her into coming on the tour after James found several nuns willing to stay with JJ, one of whom would come and get Laurie the moment the child awoke.

The visit turned out to be quite helpful. At first they couldn’t figure out where it could have been that Shawn and Sana had found the ossuary, and it wasn’t until the resident archaeologist pointed out to them that to get to the tunnel entering Peter’s tomb, one had to raise one of the panels of the glass tourist deck to get down to the lowest level of the most recent excavation.

Although Jack did feel some tenseness and nervousness prior to his and James’s setting out that night after ten with Jack carrying the ossuary and James an enormous ring of keys, it quickly dissipated. Jack had thought they would have to sneak in, but they didn’t. James had actually visited the archpriest, also a cardinal, who currently administered the basilica, and told him flat out he wanted to visit Clementine Chapel and Peter’s tomb that night, and was given the ring of keys and assured the lights would all be left on.

The walk from Casa di Santa Marta to the northwest apse entrance of Saint Peter’s was thankfully short, less than a New York City block. After James unlocked the door, Jack walked into the hushed and darkened basilica through what he later learned was the Porta della Preghiera. To him, entering the basilica was the single most memorable moment of the evening. About a half-hour earlier the clouds outside had parted, at least temporarily, and a gibbous moon had slid into view seemingly for Jack’s benefit, which was now sending shafts of moonlight through the windows at the base of Michelangelo’s dome. The effect was to emphasize the vastness of the interior of the building.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” James questioned, coming up behind Jack.

“It’s enough to make me religious,” Jack responded, only half in jest.

James led the way across the transept, crossing to the column of Saint Andrews, one of the four holding up the enormous dome, where he unlocked another door that led below to the crypt.

It took them another twenty minutes to descend all the way down to the lowest level of the excavation and the exact location in the wall of the tunnel leading into Peter’s tomb where the ossuary was found. The spot was marked by a sharply defined rectangular opening in the wall. Since the dirt was loose, Jack was able to dig it out with ease and quickly discovered all the lights, buckets, and other paraphernalia that Shawn and Sana had used and then buried.

“We’re going to have to haul this stuff away,” Jack said. “But it will be easy. We can use the buckets. But first why don’t you find me some water? I can make a paste and really seal this up.”

“Great idea,” James said. “I saw a water source a ways back.”

While James was off foraging for the water, Jack got the ossuary back into the wall and started packing the rocks, dirt, and gravel around its sides. By the time James came back, he was ready to do the most exterior part, packing now-wet dirt on the end of the ossuary. When he was finished, it was almost impossible to see where the opening had been. As he was packing the last of the dirt, he thought about one unfortunate legacy of what he was doing hiding the ossuary. Mankind would have to forgo the Gospel of Simon. Jack felt bad about that, and although he’d never had much interest in the history of Christianity, he did now, and he would now always wonder what Simon Magus had really been like. Was he the bad boy he’d always been portrayed as, or had he been something else entirely?

A
s much as Rome was rainy, gray, and dreary, Israel was crystal clear, with a desert-blue sky, and dazzlingly, even luminously, bright. Jack, Laurie, and JJ came into the country on a noontime Rome-Tel Aviv flight, with Jack’s nose pressed against the glass. Once again, JJ surpassed Laurie’s best-case scenario. As soon as the plane had gotten to altitude, he’d dropped off to sleep, and he was still sleeping when the wheels touched down with a thump and squeak on arrival.

Waiting for them at the gate was a representative of a tour company called Mabat, who helped them through passport control and baggage formalities and then seamlessly handed them off to a car and driver scheduled to take them to Jerusalem. Jack had gotten the name of the tour company from a seasoned traveler, because he wanted to maximize the short time they were planning on staying in the country. The driver, for his part, took them directly to the King David Hotel, where he handed them off to an expat, Midwesterner-cum knowledgeable-tour-guide by the name of Hillel Kestler.

“I understand you want to go first to the Palestinian village called Tsur Baher,” Hillel said with a smile. “Now, I’ve gotten lots of different personal requests, but this is the first to Tsur Baher. Can I ask why? There’s not much to see there, I have to warn you about that.”

“I want to meet this woman,” Jack said, handing over the name and address that had come out of the computer uploaded with CODIS 6.0 and attached to the 3130XL genetic analyzer.

“Jamilla Mohammod,” Hillel read. “Do you know her?”

“Not yet,” Jack said. “But I’d like to ask her for a favor, a favor that I’m willing to pay for. Is this something you could help us with? Do you speak Arabic?”

“Not too terribly well,” Hillel admitted, “but probably good enough. When would you like to go?”

“We have only today and tomorrow unless we decide to stay longer,” Jack said. “If you don’t mind, let’s go. I assume you have a vehicle for us.”

“Most definitely. I have a Volkswagen van.”

“Perfect. Let’s go, Laurie.”

“Are you sure about this?” Laurie asked, not sounding convinced. She’d heard the story of the ossuary and the results of the mitochondrial DNA, but still had misgivings.

“We’ve come all this way. How long to the village, Hillel?”

“It will take about twenty minutes to get there,” the guide said.

“Twenty minutes, that’s all,” Jack said. He reached for JJ and took him out of Laurie’s arms. “Let’s give it a whirl. There’s nothing to lose.”

“All right,” Laurie said finally.

Exactly eighteen minutes later, Hillel made a turn into a village with a dirt street and a handful of concrete cube-style houses sprouting rebars for further expansion. There were some shops, including a smoke shop, a small general store, and a spice shop. There was also a school with lots of kids in uniforms.

“The easiest way to do this is to visit the mukhtar,” Hillel said over the voices of the children.

“What’s a mukhtar?” Jack questioned back.

“It means
chosen
in Arabic,” Hillel said. He closed the vehicle’s windows so as not to need to shout. “It refers to the head of a village. He will know Jamilla Mohammod for sure.”

“Do you know the mukhtar here in Tsur Baher?” Jack asked. He was sitting in the front passenger seat. Laurie was in the back, with JJ in his car-seat carrier.

“No, I don’t. But it doesn’t matter.”

Hillel parked and then ran into the general store. While he was gone, several of the schoolchildren wandered over and stared up at Jack. Jack smiled and waved at them. A few of the children self-consciously waved back. Then a man came out of the store and waved the children away.

A moment later, Hillel reappeared from inside the store. He walked over to Jack’s side of the car. Jack lowered the window.

“There’s a sitting area in the store,” Hillel explained. “It’s the local hangout, and conveniently the mukhtar happens to be here. I asked about Jamilla, and he has sent for her. If you want to meet her, you are invited inside.”

“Terrific,” Jack said. He climbed from the car and opened the sliding door for Laurie and JJ.

The interior of the store was stacked with all manner of goods from floor to ceiling, from groceries to toys, from hardware to computer paper. The sitting area Hillel had mentioned was in the rear, with a single window looking out on a hardscrabble backyard supporting a covey of skinny chickens.

The mukhtar was an elderly man in Arabic dress, with sun-baked leathery skin. He was contentedly puffing on a hookah. He was clearly pleased to have company and quickly ordered tea all around. He was also eager to hear that the Stapletons were from New York City because he had family there and had visited twice. While he was busy explaining which part of Brooklyn he’d visited, Jamilla Mohammod walked in. Like the mukhtar, she too was in Arabic dress. She wasn’t completely covered, but her dress was black, as was her knotted scarf. Her exposed skin on her hands and face was also about the same color and consistency as the mukhtar’s. Life had been a struggle for both, it was clear.

Unfortunately, Jamilla did not speak English, but since the mukhtar did to a degree, Jack spoke to Jamilla with the mukhtar’s kind intervention. He first asked her if she had any experience as a healer. Her answer was some experience but mostly with her own children, of which there were eight, five boys and three girls.

BOOK: Intervention
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