“Justinian was superstitious and paranoid,” Alle said to Brian. “He allowed an anonymous Jewish courtier to spook him with the fact that all of the civilizations that had possessed the Temple treasure since 70 CE had crumbled. First the Jews, then Rome, then the Vandals. Would he be next? So sometime between 535 and 554 CE he ordered the Temple treasure returned to the Holy Land.”
Brian cast a doubtful look. “Simon is after the Temple treasure?”
She nodded. “The three holiest objects in all of Judaism. They never made it to the Holy Land. History lost track of all three when they left Constantinople. Zachariah said my grandfather knew where they were hidden. That he was the Levite, the only person alive who knew the location. He said whatever I buried with him would lead us there.”
“For what? Not its worth. He’s a billionaire.”
“He wants to restore it to the Jews.”
“And you believed him?”
She wanted to know something. “What’s your interest?”
“Tell me the rest. How do you fit into this?”
After Rome sacked Jerusalem in 70 CE and the Second Temple was razed, over 80,000 Jews were deported from Judea to the Iberian peninsula—which, at that time, lay at the extreme western reaches of the Roman Empire. More Jews immigrated there over time, until a thriving community formed that came to be known as Sephardim.
Life for Jews there was tolerable since the emerging Catholic Church had difficulty establishing itself so far west. The Visigoths, who ruled the land, did not convert until 587 CE. This began what became a recurring phenomenon in Iberian policy—Jews were ordered to either become Christians or be expelled. Many did convert, becoming the first conversos, maintaining their Jewish identity in secret while openly professing to be something else. Tens of thousands either left or were expelled. Periods of tolerance and intolerance followed. Property seizures occurred frequently, especially when Jewish assets were needed by monarchs. When the Moors invaded Iberia in 711, Jews welcomed them as liberators. Life under Moorish rule became the Golden Age for Sephardi Jews. Their numbers grew, as more immigrated.
But the Reconquista changed everything.
Christians slowly reclaimed Iberia and forced conversions, engaging in pogroms. By 1400 Jews had become a focus of Spanish hatred. To avoid death or persecution thousands more converted to Christianity, creating a new wave of conversos. Laws that restricted Jewish industry eventually brought commerce to a standstill. Soil was left uncultivated, finances were disturbed. Entire communities were destroyed, many more reduced to poverty. In order to restore the Spanish economy the Crown tried to draw Jews back to the country by offering them privileges.
Which worked, but it also bred resentment from Christians.
When Ferdinand and Isabella ascended the throne and completed the Reconquista in 1492, expelling the last of the Moors from Spanish soil, they issued an edict that all Jews must either convert or leave Spain.
They also reinstituted the Inquisition to root out false conversos.
165,000 Jews chose to leave.
Many stayed and kept their secret.
Many more were slaughtered.
“How much of that is you and how much came from Simon?” Brian asked.
“I’m not ignorant of Jewish history,” she made clear. “It’s what I’ve studied.”
“I didn’t say that you were. I just need to know what that crazy man is trying to do.”
“He told me a story. I don’t know if it’s true. But it was quite amazing. About the Jews in Spain, at the time Columbus sailed.”
“Tell me.”
“Why should I?”
“Because your father’s life depends on it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
TOM DROVE INTO ORLANDO AND FOLLOWED A ROUNDABOUT path to his house. He needed to retrieve his passport. He’d already stopped at a local library and used one of their computers to book a flight out of New York that would eventually land him in Bratislava, Slovakia. The overnight leg across the Atlantic departed New York at 8:00 P.M. To get there he would have to take a plane from Jacksonville. He thought that safer than using the Orlando airport, which Simon might be watching. The drive north was all interstate highway, about two and a half hours. He’d have to change planes again in London, but should be on the ground in Slovakia in plenty of time. From there he would rent a car and drive across the Austrian border to Vienna, about forty miles away.
He parked a block over and approached his house from the rear. He kept an eye out for anything that might cause alarm, but the neighborhood was quiet. He entered through the back door and realized that the measure of comfort he’d always felt here was gone. This place now reeked of insecurity and all he wanted to do was leave. He quickly changed clothes, found his passport and a jacket, grabbed the few hundred dollars he always kept on hand, and left. He’d buy along the way whatever was necessary. It felt like the old days when he was chasing leads, piecing tendrils, hoping the dots would eventually connect into a story. He’d handled things right today, anticipating his adversary’s move, staying one step ahead. His daughter was counting on him and this time he was not going to let her down.
He also seemed privy to something extraordinary—a secret his family had apparently been part of for a long while.
Which, despite everything, excited him.
He stepped out the door and headed back toward his car.
One thing bothered him, though.
Zachariah Simon agreed to the terms far too easily.
Sources too cooperative had always made him nervous.
He wondered.
Had he made a mistake?
———
ZACHARIAH BOARDED THE CHARTERED JET. HE DID NOT OWN A plane. Waste of money. Far cheaper to rent. This one had been waiting for him at Orlando’s Sanford International Airport, a smaller facility north of the city. He wondered from where Tom Sagan would leave America. Surely not from Orlando. The man was certainly smarter than that. But he didn’t care. He wanted the former reporter in Vienna, and he would do nothing to interfere with that journey.
He sat in one of the plush seats and fastened his seat belt. The jet’s engines were already humming. Cool air rushed from the overhead vents. Rócha, after stowing their bags, joined him.
“It’s too bad she’s dead,” he said, referring to Alle. “I may have been hasty there.”
Rócha shrugged. “Jamison knew right where to look.”
Which was a problem that required attention. A spy in his midst? Without question. He also had to talk with Béne Rowe and find out why the Jamaican was stalking him. He’d underestimated Rowe’s desire to find Columbus’ lost mine. He’d volunteered only enough information to prove that he knew what he was talking about.