Topol was more levelheaded. “Is it at all possible that this wasn’t a burial box? Was there anything else that could’ve been in the crypt?”
“No,” Barton was emphatic. “It wasn’t customary to leave valuables in crypts. This isn’t ancient Egypt, Major General.”
“Did you find any evidence that could lead us to the perpetrators? Anything that might suggest Palestinian involvement?” Teleksen persuaded.
It seemed they would never understand that—unlike many native Israelis—Barton wasn’t motivated by either religious or political allegiance. “As of yet, nothing obvious.”
“Isn’t there any way of tracking down this ossuary?” Teleksen was losing patience.
“Perhaps.” Barton regarded both men levelly, though Teleksen’s sour demeanor and cigarette smoke were eroding his patience. “I’ll be monitoring the antiquities markets closely. That’s the most likely place it’ll turn up.” He reached into his briefcase for another sheet of paper and pushed it toward Topol. “Here’s a basic drawing of what the ossuary probably looks like, along with the dimensions and approximate weight. I suggest you circulate this among your men, particularly at checkpoints. And here are pictures of the other ossuaries found in the crypt.”
Topol stowed them away.
“I think you might be missing a very important part of all this,” Barton added quietly.
Both commanders raised their eyes.
“A crypt beneath Temple Mount would reinforce the Zionist notion that a Jewish temple once stood above it. Perhaps you should share that information with the prime minister.” Barton was playing off the idea that every Israeli Jew—orthodox and secular alike—clung to the hope that one day solid archaeological evidence supporting Jewish exclusivity to Temple Mount would be discovered.
Teleksen shifted uneasily, the metal legs of his chair scraping against the floor.
“So don’t be too surprised if this investigation leads to a much larger discovery,” Barton added.
“Anything else?” Topol queried.
For a split second, he thought about divulging his discovery of the scroll now back inside its cylinder, safely secured in his pants pocket. “Not at this point.”
“I hardly need to remind you what’s at stake here,” Teleksen said firmly. “We’re teetering on the verge of a very unpleasant confrontation with Hamas and the Palestinian Authority. Plenty of people on their side are ready to use any excuse to accuse us of a terrorist act against Islam.”
Barton looked at them. “I’ll do all I can to find the ossuary.”
Teleksen took a final drag that burned the cigarette down to its filter. “If you find this box, notify us both immediately. You’ll have complete access to any necessary resources.” He tossed the butt onto the floor and stubbed it out with his right foot. “But please keep in mind that next time we meet, we’ll require more than just a lesson in archaeology.”
Both men stood and made their way out into the gallery.
Once he buzzed Rachel upstairs to confirm that they had left the building, Barton quickly closed the door and excitedly pulled out the cylinder. Uncapping it, he tapped the scroll out onto a clear area of his desk. From boxes on a nearby shelf, he retrieved a pair of latex gloves and a plastic Ziploc bag. Sitting at the desk, he swung the retractable arm of a desk lamp closer, then slipped on the gloves.
After delicately opening the vellum, he slid it face-up into the plastic bag, then gently ironed it flat with his hand. Neatly handwritten in a large font, Barton didn’t require a magnifying lens to make out the text. However, he confirmed that he was certainly going to need a translator, because Greek was not his strong point.
And as far as he was concerned, there was only one man in Jerusalem whom he considered an expert.
23
******
Vatican City
Charlotte Hennesey was still grappling with the notion that the ossuary’s skeletal remains suggested that the thirty-something male subject— otherwise in pristine health—exhibited multiple signs of trauma resulting from crucifixion.
She and Bersei were now preparing to establish further evidence reinforcing the subject’s identity, estimating date of death. Carbon dating would need to be performed on the bone, and the ossuary itself would need to be examined closely for any telling clues.
Standing in front of the ossuary, they examined its limestone shell. “I found some information about an ossuary similar to this discovered in Israel in 2002,” Bersei said. “On the basis of its inscriptions it was initially thought to have once contained James, the brother of Jesus. Though the ossuary itself was judged authentic, the inscriptions were determined a forgery. Reviewing the forensic analysis on that relic, I’ve got a pretty good understanding of what to look for here.”
“How did they know it was a forgery? What’s the difference between genuine carvings and fakes?”
“Occasionally it’s a leap of faith,” Bersei responded. “But it’s mainly the integrity of the patina that legitimizes inscriptions.”
“This stuff?” She pointed to a thin layer of muted gray-green sediment that evenly covered the stone.
“Yes—kind of like the greenish oxidation that occurs on copper. In the case of stone, moisture, sedimentary drip and airborne material builds up naturally over time to form a residue.”
“And the patina’s organic composition would indicate the type of environment where the ossuary would have been found?”
“Precisely.” He put on his reading glasses, peered down at a notepad and read from a list of notations. “Last night, I did some research about ossuaries and it seems that the practice of using them occurred mainly in Jerusalem during the first century BC, and didn’t last very long—only a century or two.” He glanced up at her. “Therefore, I’d expect that this limestone, like the James ossuary, was quarried during that period somewhere in Israel.” “Right, the patina’s mineral content should then be consistent with geological elements in that region,” she said. “But wait a second, Giovanni. Assuming this ossuary falls into that category, that would mean this is about two thousand years old.”
“Correct. And seeing as crucifixion was commonly practiced during that period, it appears that we’re on track.”
Hennesey peered closely at the patina. “So if the stone was tampered with, wouldn’t the patina be disrupted?”
“Correct again,” Bersei smiled.
“Is there any way to date the stone?”
He considered this for a second. “It’s possible,” he admitted, “but not very useful.”
“Why not?”
“We’re not really concerned with when the limestone was formed. The stone itself will be millions of years old. We’d be much more interested in when it was quarried. The patina and inscriptions are probably our best gauges determining its age.”
“Aha.” Charlotte pointed to the fused symbol of the dolphin and trident. “Think we’ll be able to determine what that means?”
“I’m fairly certain it’s a pagan symbol,” Bersei continued. “It’s funny, I know I’ve seen this somewhere before. First, let’s figure out if this patina’s legitimate.”