“The Nazi thing?”
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Nazis thought the spear would make them invincible, but it predates them by centuries. Back in biblical times, a Roman centurion, Longinus, used the spear to stab Jesus. Hundreds of years later, Baldwin II sold it to Louis IX to be enshrined in Paris. It disappeared during the Revolution — supposedly taken by Napoleon — and it’s in the Vatican now. Anyway, you’ve diverted me.”
“Sorry.”
“Cusanus also mentioned the lost jars, so I looked them up. The gospel of John says Jesus attended a wedding feast at Cana. When the party ran out of wine, Jesus ordered the servants to fill empty stone jars with water. The host tasted the contents, and shazam! Water had become wine. John considered it Jesus’s first miracle. Anyway, the jars were taken…”
“Hey, I remember that story. These are those jars?”
“Exactly. The various Bible translations call them jars, water vessels, waterpots, or jugs. You can see them in Giotto’s Marriage at Cana, although that artwork might not be the most accurate depiction. The relics are the subject of several wild stories. Apparently, the Crusaders searched for the jars. St. Peter may have taken them to Rome. A few historians claim the jars are hidden under Jerusalem, others suspect that the Knights Templar stashed them at Rosslyn Chapel.”
“Or maybe they came from Atlantis and were created by Martians.”
Ava giggled. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Are they supposed to be magic or something?”
“Yeah. I mean, no, not magic, but almost anything Jesus touched was considered a sacred relic that could protect you from evil or cure diseases. Some medieval Christians thought the Holy Grail bestowed eternal youth.”
“I saw that in a movie. What do the jars do?”
“I’m not sure. They might predict the future. According to legend, Jesus related a secret prophecy to his disciples. They hid the message in the jars and concealed them at Tabgha or Nag Hammadi or someplace. No one really knows. One account says they were taken to Rome and hidden in the catacombs. Eventually, the pope found the jars and tried to read the message.”
“That’s why the Church is so rich! Because the pope knows all the right lottery numbers and who’ll win the World Series!”
Ava laughed. “No. This was centuries ago. I’m blanking on who was pope, and it’s unclear if even he understood the message. One legend warns that no human can read it with mortal eyes. In another story, the pope decided the prophecy was demonic and ordered the jars destroyed. The version I like says the pope couldn’t comprehend the message because some jars were still hidden in the desert and the prophecy is too complex to be understood piecemeal.”
Gabe nodded. “Was the message encoded?” he asked.
She could see that the notion appealed to him. Gabe saw the universe in terms of code. There was probably a fascinating information-theory problem nestled somewhere in her story. She suspected his subconscious was processing brilliant, nonlinear solutions as they spoke. It occurred to Ava that she might need his help.
“Maybe so,” she said, encouragingly. “You wouldn’t want just anyone reading it. If they took the trouble to hide the jars, why not encrypt the text?”
“And that’s why no one can understand it!” Gabe said. “The apostles intended it that way. They knew the message might fall into the hands of wicked Emperor Nero or whoever was in charge. They didn’t want evil people to know the future. If Nero foresaw that Christianity would spread throughout Europe, he’d have thrown all Christians to the lions. So the apostles separated the code into mutually interdependent sequences…”
Gabe was a rabid cryptography fan. As he rattled off ideas about the relative value of compression algorithms, Ava’s mind wandered back to the mysterious phone call. What had they discovered, and why had Paul called her?
Gabe stood at the window, gazing out. After a minute, he turned. “Yemen?” he asked. “Don’t you need a special visa? Do we even have an embassy there? What if something freaky happens?”
Stiffening, Ava said, “I’m a strong, independent woman. I speak three dialects of Arabic, and I’ve had all the necessary inoculations. I’m not a helpless little girl in need of male protection.”
He wilted. “I know. I know all that. That’s not what I meant, but you hear crazy stories about women traveling alone. Remember what happened to that CBS reporter in Cairo?”
She looked into his worried eyes. “You want me to be safe. I appreciate that, but I’m going. It’s important. Will you help me?”
Gabe sighed. “Yes. Of course I will. You know I always will, but if you end up a prisoner in some nasty Sultan’s harem…”
“Then you’ll hack into the DOD mainframe and send Delta Force commandos to rescue me.”
Gabe laughed. “Mainframe?” He shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t—”
“Anyway,” Ava interjected, cutting off his digression into technobabble, “I’ll call each day until I’m safely home.” At this remark, Gabe’s eyes flashed with an idea.
“Here, take this.” He tossed her a chunky black mobile phone that looked years out of date. Ava regarded him quizzically.
“It’s a satphone, LEO. Should be fully charged.”
“LEO?”
“Low Earth Orbit,” Gabe explained. “I hacked it. Free unlimited minutes.”
She smiled, impressed. “It wasn’t my hack,” he said quickly. “I got the code from a guy online, but it works. You can download data into my system, send me video of you in the shower—”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
“I installed some cool encryption, making it untraceable. It should keep our conversations confidential, except from ECHELON and the NSA,” Gabe joked.
Ava wrapped him in a bear hug. Gabe was wonderful. She knew he’d help. In her mind, Gabe was the kind, protective big brother she’d always wanted. Of course, she kept this to herself. Gabe didn’t think of her as a sister, and Ava couldn’t stand to hurt his feelings. Better to leave the matter unspoken, postpone the conversation, indefinitely if possible.
Chapter 2
The plane began to roll. Runway lights flickered past Ava’s window. The jet lifted off, lurched, and then steadied. Ava grabbed her laptop and began reading about the lost jars and various related miracles and locales. As the captain’s voice announced passengers’ freedom to move about the cabin, Ava reviewed her research. The first article was from CNN Online, dated December 21, 2004, and titled “Water to Wine: Are These the Jars?”
Among the roots of ancient olive trees, archaeologists have found pieces of large jars.… Experts believe these could be the same kind of vessels Jesus used in his first miracle, and the site where the jars were found could be the location of biblical Cana.… Christian theologians attach great significance to the water-to-wine miracle. It was not only Jesus’s first, but it also came at a crucial point in his ministry. The shards were found during a salvage dig in modern-day Cana, between Nazareth and Capernaum. Israeli archaeologist Yardena Alexander believes the Arab town was built near the ancient village. The jars date to the Roman period, when Jesus traveled the Galilee. “Just the existence of stone vessels is not enough to prove this is a biblical site,” Alexander said. Nevertheless, she believes the vessels are the same type of jars described in the Gospel of John.
“How could she know?” Ava wondered. There were probably thousands of similar jars in ancient Israel. What’s more, Ava didn’t believe modern Cana was located in the same place as historical Cana. This seemed too pat. Scanning her research, she found the heading “Cana, Location.”