The Kabbalistic Murder Code: Mystery & International Conspiracies (Historical Crime Thriller Book 1) (4 page)

              Elijah thought of calling Orna to tell her about the magnificent mahogany table, the vast library and the quiet surroundings, but when he tried to do so a recorded feminine voice noted that it was impossible to dial outside. As the rules forbade cellular phones, the scholars of the Institute were effectively cut off from the outside world. And since Elijah had forgotten to give Orna the Institute’s phone number, there was no way she could call him.

              “Not a bad way to ensure that your employees do what they’re paid to do,” he thought to himself. He decided to wander around the Institute for a while before settling down to work.

              The gallery, which overlooked the main hall, was accessible by two separate staircases. This time, Elijah chose the right-hand staircase, and out of curiosity tried all the doors on the way. Most were locked and appeared to have been that way for quite a while. “I wouldn’t mind living here myself,” he thought. A library and computer downstairs, a bedroom and bathroom upstairs, and total peace and quiet - what more does one need?”

              One of the doors was unlocked. He opened it and saw that the room it led to contained a single piece of furniture - a desk. He opened the drawers out of curiosity, but they all seemed to be empty. At the bottom of one drawer, though, he saw what looked like some writing. He looked again and realized it was a piece of paper, which had somehow become stuck and was of a shade close to that of the wood the drawers were made of. He pulled out the paper and was surprised at what he found.

              The paper itself was quality stationery stock and had the letterhead in English of a company named “Luria Investments Ltd.” The address was in St. Kitts. Where in blazes was St. Kitts? Below this was a list, evidently of things the person needed to do.

              The first line contained an academic quote in English, from an article entitled “Movement with Words”, which had been published in an American journal named
The Struggle for the Future
. The article was written by one Odell Weiss. Elijah had never heard of such a journal, but the unusual name Odel Weiss caused him to smile. The rest of the page was in Hebrew.

              The second line began with “Visit Gardi in the hospital” while the third was the address of a company named Texas-Com. The CEO was listed as Dr. Shalomo Nehorai, whom Elijah knew personally.

The fourth line dealt with the Kim Foundation, which offered grants.

Elijah looked at the page. He was not interested in the to-do list, but what did interest him was that it was written in the Hebrew known as
Rashi
script, a script that has not been used in handwriting for hundreds of years.

             
What fool would use that script today?
he thought to himself. The writing was clear and precise, and showed that whoever had written the note felt totally comfortable in using that particular script.

He was startled by a noise from behind the door and wanted to leave the room as fast as he could, before anyone knew he had been there, but he was unable to do so. Someone had locked the door from the outside! He began sweating profusely and didn’t know what to do, as he stood helpless in the locked room. He decided to call for help. At first he called out quietly, but as the minutes passed and there was no response, he began shouting louder and louder. He was panic-stricken. Finally, after several minutes of mental agony, he heard footsteps. Someone jangled a bunch of keys, and the door eventually opened. In the doorway stood the young Chinese or Korean man.

              “What are you doing in here?” the man asked.

              “I was looking for some material,” stammered Elijah.

              “Did you find anything?” The tone was again metallic, robot-like.

              “No, no, I...”

              “Everything you need is on your desk. You have no cause to search here.” The man was distinctly unfriendly.

              “I’m terribly sorry,” Elijah mumbled contritely.

              “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Just do what Mr. Norman expects you to do.”

              Elijah returned to his desk and placed the paper he had found in the drawer on the corner of the table.

              He did consider tossing it into the wastebasket, but decided in the end to follow a dictum he had learned from his father: there is always time later to throw something away; he accepted the logic of that saying.

              Elijah began working, concentrating on the photocopy in front of him. An hour later he went to the bathroom, and when he returned the slip of paper was no longer there. It had been removed from his desk. This really bothered him. He asked himself what else there was at the Institute, how many people worked there, and why he had not met a single one of them during all the hours he had been there. In fact, the Asian man only appeared after he had been obliged to yell for help. He tried to reassure himself with the idea that the paper had nothing to do with his work in any case, and made a determined effort to again concentrate on the task at hand.

              However, one thought kept running through his mind: if someone had taken the trouble of removing the paper, it must be of more importance than he had imagined. Moreover, the unusual use of the
Rashi
script must be somehow significant. Fortunately for him, he had the gift of total recall and, in a short while, he managed to reconstruct the entire note, complete with an exact duplication of the script involved. He forced himself to ignore the note and continue with his work. To assist him, he examined each letter of the photocopy individually with the help of a large magnifying glass, which he had spotted – and coveted – the previous day. The work, which exhausted his eyes, was uplifting to his soul.

              Again he read the text:

“The stone was very precious, the very essence of all beauty and treasure. It was known as
Even Shetiyah
. In this world, the stone was located beneath the place of the Holy of Holies, and from it, it spread along all types of tracks and paths to all of creation. For this stone stands at the heart of the entire world, and at that point all are joined and gathered together... “

              The letters were totally consistent with the era in question. What is the “
Even Shetiyah
”? Where is it now? Was Norman’s interest in it due to its great value? Elijah had no idea. In any event, as far as he was concerned, these questions were irrelevant. Pleased with the day’s progress, he sent the results of his work by email, and turned to the no-less-pleasant task of recording the time he had arrived at the Institute and when he would be leaving, which he sent off by fax. He noted that he had no idea which country was represented by the country code in the fax number given him by Norman. He would have checked this out, but there was no telephone book at hand and he soon forgot all about it.

The night was dark and gloomy, and a thick fog enveloped the city as he trudged wearily toward his home. As he walked an idea occurred to him, as sharp as a knife: the missing paper must be the clue to the entire riddle, and deciphering it would lead to a hidden treasure. Even if it did not lead to a treasure, it would at the very least enable him to understand the strange things that had occurred since the previous morning.

              In his mind’s eye, he visualized again the photocopy of the scroll on the desk in front of him, and wondered if anyone was capable of understanding what was meant by “tracks and paths in all directions”. He agreed with those mystics who felt that language simply does not have the ability to convey supreme truths, and all the more so when attempts are made to put these down in writing. All his profound thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he opened the door to his home. Here he was met by a jubilant welcome from his daughters who fell upon him like two small, love-starved animals.

              “You owe us a story from yesterday,” Michali and Efrat squealed. Michali was feeling a lot better and her temperature had dropped.

              The girls were fully aware that their father’s skills lay in storytelling and certainly not in cooking, washing, dressing, fixing, sewing, etc., and that was why this was their standard request. That night Elijah chose to tell them the tale of the
Golem
of Prague:

              “The Kabbalists of Prague knew how to make themselves a
golem,
a human-shaped figure, made of earth and water, in other words, mud. Whenever they completed the study of that week’s portion of the Torah, they would gather around a bonfire and spend the whole night fashioning little men out of mud. Then they would write on the forehead of each such ‘creature’ the Hebrew letters,
Alef, Mem, and Tav
. Would you girls know what that stands for?”

              “It stands for the Hebrew word ‘
emet
’ - truth,” the little girls cried in unison.

              “Yes, and these are also the first, middle and last letters of the Hebrew alphabet. On the other hand, the word ‘
sheker
’ - a lie - is composed of three consecutive letters towards the end of the alphabet.

“The whole night, next to the bonfire, the Kabbalists would pray and dance, and would infuse life into these ‘little men’ that they had created out of mud in their own image. From then on, each new creature acted like a robot. Although it could not speak, it had a certain degree of understanding, and was primarily useful for carrying out household chores. It grew and grew without end. It became a mighty giant and could be extremely dangerous. That was why, before a
golem
became too tall and strong, the Kabbalists would take its spirit away from it, and it would revert to being earth and water.

              “The
Maharal
of Prague, the rabbi of the community, did not want to part from his
golem,
because it was very helpful and dedicated. He refrained from doing anything, and the
golem
grew larger and larger, until it was an enormous giant. The rabbi realized that this could not go on, so he waited for an appropriate time. One day, he asked the
golem
to remove his boots. When the
golem
bent down to do so, the rabbi was able to reach its forehead. He reached out and deleted the first letter, the
Alef
. And what was left?”

              “
Met
,” Efrat, the older, answered immediately. In Hebrew, the word
met
means “dead”.

              “That’s right,” said Elijah, “the
golem
died. He immediately turned into mud, and the water evaporated, leaving a pile of earth at the rabbi’s feet. The problem was that the
golem
had been so large, and the pile of earth was so big, that it completely covered the rabbi and he, too, died. From that time on, it has become customary to talk of ‘the
golem
that arose against its creator’. Now, girls,” he concluded, “Do you understand the power of the single letter
Alef
?”

              Michali couldn’t bear it any longer. “I don’t like stories like that. I want you to tell us the story of Little Red Riding Hood.”

              Elijah agreed to tell them the story, but the Jerusalem version of it, a version that had an educational message. The wolf ran after Little Red Riding Hood, not because he wanted to catch her, but because he wanted her grandmother’s freshly baked cookies. He did not devour the grandmother, but the cake she had prepared for the Sabbath. The hunter did not kill the wolf, but captured him and returned him to the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo. The wolf was punished by not being allowed to watch television for a full week, and regretted having stolen the cookies. Elijah ended the story on a triumphant note, that the wolf still regrets his actions.

              And together, the little girls added: “To this very day!”

              The little girls finally fell asleep, and Elijah silently went to his computer. He sent an email to Ziva Elitzur, a renowned librarian, asking her to locate the article by Odel Weiss that was mentioned on the paper he had found. He felt that he had taken the first step toward finding the lost treasure. The original Odel had been the daughter of the saintly Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Hasidic movement, and the grandmother of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav. Who, but a hippie, born-again Jew would go about with a first name like that? He was curious.

              First thing the next day he went to the library to seek out the article. On the way, he saw Prof. Ashuri about to enter the cafeteria and waved to her. Instead of going straight to the library, he decided to speak to her first. Prof. Ashuri always looked like a rather chubby, old grandmother on her way to babysit her grandchildren. Legends flew on campus about the brown beret Prof. Ashuri always wore. According to some, she wore the same beret each day; others insisted that she had a number of such berets and wore them consecutively. But, notwithstanding her dowdy appearance, Prof. Ashuri was an extremely important, world-renowned scholar of Kabbalah.

              “What does the
Even Shetiyah
mean to you?” he asked her and immediately saw her light up.