oversized Muslim guard instructed to watch over Barton—signaled that
everything was fine. Razak nodded and waved him out into the mosque. Graham Barton was crouched in a corner transcribing an inscription on
one of the ossuaries.
“Good morning, Mr. Barton,” Razak said in English.
The archaeologist sprung to his feet.
“Looks like you’ve been busy.” Razak eyed the small stacks of rubbings
Barton had laid out at intervals along the floor.
“Very much so,” Barton replied cheerily. “I got here early and Akbar
was kind enough to let me get a head start.”
“What have you found out so far?”
“It’s an extraordinary discovery. This crypt belonged to a Jewish man
named Yosef.” Barton pointed to a box on one end, just as plain as the others. “You’ll notice that each of these ossuaries is inscribed in Hebrew with
the names of his family members.”
Unimpressed, Razak sought meaningful information. “Yosef who?”
Barton shrugged. “That’s the problem with ancient Jews. They weren’t terribly specific when it came to names. They rarely used family names, at least for burial purposes. And the Hebrew name ‘Yosef’ was quite common back then. Anyway, you see that each ossuary is plainly marked.”
Razak eyed the inscriptions carved into the sides of the nine boxes.
“Each one says pretty much the same thing: whose remains are contained inside each ossuary. Those are his four daughters,” he indicated the cluster sitting at the beginning of the lineup. “Three sons,” his motioned to the next three, then to the one beside Yosef’s, “plus his loving wife, Sarah.” Barton drew a deep breath. “But there’s an etching on the back wall of the crypt that provides more detail.” Grabbing a flashlight, he motioned for Razak to follow and advanced into the shadowy recess, stopping by the rear wall. The cylinder of light played along the stone. “See that.” Barton illuminated a wall-mounted tablet framed with ornate stone trim. “It lists the inventory of ossuaries contained in this chamber.”
The Muslim stepped closer. “So the missing ossuary should be listed here.” Counting nine lines of text, Razak’s eyes were drawn to a deep gouge scarring the polished rock beneath the last line. Confused, he stared at it for a long moment. “I’m only seeing nine entries.”
“Correct. And those nine are the names that match the remaining ossuaries. But this entry here,” Barton trained the light on the disfigured rock, “probably identified the tenth ossuary.” He tapped it with his finger.
Razak studied it critically once more. “Won’t do us much good now.”
“Agreed. Another dead end.”
Razak strolled around the chamber holding out his hands. “Why here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Of all places, why would the crypt be located here?”
He had a good point, Barton thought. “Normally we’d expect crypts to be outside the city walls. But it’s certainly possible this site was chosen for security reasons. In fact”—he paused to formulate the idea—“in the first century, Antonia Fortress, the Roman garrison, was situated adjacent to the northern wall of Temple Mount. The esplanade above us”—he pointed up—“would have been a very public area—all sorts of activities going on. Raised portico walkways ran all along the perimeter of the platform and looped around to the garrison. The Roman centurions would pace up and down to police the crowds, ready to quell any disturbances.”
Barton refrained from explaining that, in the first century, the primary reason for the Temple Mount’s popularity was the grand Jewish temple that once stood in place of the Dome of the Rock Mosque—a claim that the Waqf had systematically denied for centuries in order to secure its hold over the site. Since no archaeological evidence supported the scriptural reference to the temple, their position had remained strong.
“And what do Roman centurions have to do with this crypt?”
“Everything. Remember, in ancient times there were no safes or lockboxes. That’s why plundering was the easiest way to get rich. Assets were vulnerable.”
Razak was eyeing Barton intently. “The only way to protect treasures or valuables was with an army?”
“Correct.”
“Then perhaps the tenth ossuary didn’t contain human remains. Could it have protected some kind of treasure?”
“It’s plausible.”
“Certainly more believable than human remains,” Razak continued. “I’m not seeing why anyone would go through such great trouble to steal bones.”
Barton could sense that Razak was pleased with his own reasoning and in the absence of further evidence, he wasn’t about to challenge the idea. “As far as I can see,” he added, “it’s impossible to draw conclusions as to what the stolen ossuary may actually have contained. But inside these remaining nine boxes,” he gestured toward the ossuaries, “we may find some more clues.” He handed Razak a pair of rubber gloves. “Which is why you’ll need these.”
A horrified look came over the Muslim.
16
******
Vatican City
The two scientists convened in the lab at eight a.m., both heading directly to the rear break room where Giovanni Bersei was instructing Charlotte Hennesey on how to use what he considered to be the lab’s most vital piece of equipment—the Gaggia automatic coffee machine, which pumped out customized brew at the touch of a button.
“Tell me. How was your visit to the basilica last night?”
Rolling her eyes, she gave him a quick summary that ended with her
retelling of an unpleasant encounter with Salvatore Conte. She told him that it had disturbed her so much she’d decided to skip going out all together. Having settled for a tuna sandwich from the Domus’s cafeteria, she’d turned in early. Not the most exciting night, she admitted, though she was happy to have caught up on her sleep. “And how did your wife’s osso bucco turn out?”
He made a sour face. “Not so good. Carmela is many things, but a good cook is not one of them. In fact, she may be the worst cook in all Italy.”
She hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re terrible, Giovanni. I hope you didn’t tell her that.”
“Are you crazy? I value my life.”
They both laughed.
Bersei checked his watch. “Ready to begin?”
“Let’s do it.”
Refilling their cups, they moved back into the main room and stood at the workstation, both donning lab coats. The ossuary, with its mysterious skeleton, was just as they had left it yesterday.
Bersei handed Charlotte a new mask and latex gloves and she put them on. He did the same.
Staring at the bones, Charlotte half expected a hand to pop out holding an hourglass.
After putting on his own mask and gloves, Bersei retrieved a Canon EOS digital camera, turned it on, snapped some pictures, then set it down.