“No, the government probably doesn’t know about it,” David said. “They were so overwhelmed by the other things, they disregarded the bowl. I think Judith just took it and then told them it would go into a museum somewhere.”
“Very well, Mr. Hall. As I said, we shall pray together to seek guidance and wisdom.”
“Mind if I join you, Father Kamil?”
“Not at all, my son, not at all. Tell me one more thing, please. After your lady friend told you what was written on the wall, did you touch the bowl?”
David said yes, when they first found it, but after that, he had been afraid to.
“Why?”
“You know exactly why, Father Kamil. Do you want to touch it?”
“Never, Mr. Hall. Let us go back to the chapel. Ah, wait. First I must send a message. Come with me.”
David went with the abbot to the far side of the garden enclosure. Father Kamil unlocked a wooden door that led to a set of steps going up into the ruined corner tower. David wondered if the abbot was going to make some kind of signal, but when they got to the top of the tower, the abbot opened another door that led into a dovecote. There was an immediate chorus of cooing and purring from the tile nesting pipes wedged along the walls.
“Homing pigeons?” David asked.
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Hall. Very reliable.”
“Where’s the message going?” David asked, as he watched the abbot scratch out some words on a small piece of paper and then insert it into a short metal tube.
“To our Patriarch, in Jerusalem, of course,” the abbot said. “He will know what to do about this wine bowl that lights a room with no flame. He will think us all mad, of course, but he will come to see for himself. ”
Wow, David thought as the abbot secured the tiny cylinder to the leg of a fat pigeon with a leather jess. Now he understood why Judith had brought the bowl here.
You’ll see, she’d said.
Soon, of course, the whole world would want to see.
37
They came for him three hours after sundown, ten days after the message had flown to Jerusalem. David had been asleep when the sound of a helicopter woke him up. He got up, shivered in the cold, and looked through both window embrasures. He could see nothing but the distant snow-capped mountains in the moonlight. There was much more snow up there now, he noticed. Maybe the helo had been just passing by, he thought. He had never heard one at night. Then, fifteen minutes later, he heard the truck cranking over and knew that something was up. He lit a candle, washed his face, and got some clothes on. For some reason, this time he fished out his own street clothes.
A half hour later one of the monks who often sat with him in the garden unlocked the door, knocked, and came in. He was carrying an oil lantern, and he smiled when he saw how David was dressed. He indicated that David was to come with him. They went to the front gate, where two soldiers were waiting.
Comes now the big question, he thought. They were either going to let him go or take him to a real prison. Or worse. He took hope from the fact that everyone was acting pretty nonchalant about what was going on. There was nothing in the soldiers’ faces to indicate they were going to execute him. Besides, they didn’t need to send a helicopter to do that.
They slipped on a set of plastic handcuffs but this time did not blindfold him. They put him on a wooden bench in the back of the canvas-covered truck and hooked his cuffs up to a metal rod. Then the truck bumped and banged its way down the same mountain track he’d come up before. What, he thought — almost two months ago? He could see the trail opening out behind him as they went down. Briefly he considered escape. No. Nothing but wild goats could survive out there in this wilderness, and even they were pretty thin.
They did blindfold him once they put him in the helicopter and strapped him in. This time he sat back without being told to and relaxed as best he could, trying not to think of all the possibilities here. It was very cold once they got up to altitude and leveled off. He remembered stories of CIA contract people throwing Vietcong prisoners out of helicopters while other prisoners watched, supposedly as an incentive for the others to talk. He shivered again, this time not entirely because of the cold. They landed after about a half-hour flight and then ground-taxied a long way before the turbine spooled down and then went silent, which was when he heard the noise of a propjet, a big propjet from the sound of it, somewhere near the helicopter. The doors opened, and the blindfold was briskly removed.
They were parked at an airport or possibly a military airfield, he wasn’t sure which. It was nearly midnight, and the field was lighted but not active. He saw some hangars in the distance and a tower with its rotating beacon flashing through the night. Parked sideways right in front of them was an Israeli Hercules C-130 decked out in desert camouflage paint. The hatch was open forward, and two engines were turning on the other side. A group of men stood by the hatch, looking at the helicopter. Two of them appeared to be aircrew in flight suits, but then he recognized Ellerstein and Israel Gulder. For some reason he felt better that Ellerstein was there.
A soldier reached in, unlocked the cuffs, and then indicated that David was to step out and go to the Hercules. He helped David out of the helicopter and then nodded his head toward the men standing by the hatch ladder. David walked over, stretching his arms and rubbing his wrists. He stopped when he reached the ladder. A warm draft from the turning engines blew under the belly of the aircraft, and he could smell the stink of kerosene fuel.
Gulder was handing him something. It was a small leather folder. David looked inside and found his wallet, his passport, and what looked like an airline ticket envelope.
“Mr. Hall,” Gulder said, his face a complete blank, “this is good-bye, I’m afraid. You are leaving our country. Bon voyage.”
“Is this going to be an improvement over the monastery, or something a little more final?” David asked.
Gulder just smiled, said something in Hebrew to Ellerstein, and then walked away to a waiting staff car. Ellerstein tipped his head toward the hatch and followed David into the aircraft. It was cold and dark inside the cargo bay, the only light provided by a row of small red lights in the overhead. An aircrewman wearing a cranial headset came in behind them and stood at the front end of the cargo bay.
Ellerstein picked a seat and sat down, indicating David should sit next to him. He was wearing a heavy jacket and wool slacks.
“So, what’s happening here?” David asked.
“You are being released, Mr. Hall. This aircraft will take you to Greece, to the American military field at Hellenikon. A consular officer will validate that ticket back to the States, and you will leave at oh nine hundred for New York.”
“That’s it? No conditions?”
“Just one, Mr. Hall, and it is voluntary, of course.”
“Oh, yeah, right, of course. Voluntary,” David said, rubbing his wrists again.
“No, it is, really. We ask that you remain quiet about your role in the discovery of the Temple artifacts. Right now the whole world believes Yehudit Ressner is the sole discoverer. As agreed between you, yes?”
“Yes. No problem at all.”
He waited for the next condition, about the weapons business, but Ellerstein was getting up. “It was interesting to meet you, Mr. Hall,” he said, extending his hand. “Most interesting. If you should further, um, correspond with Dr. Ressner, please be gentle, okay?”
David shook his hand but didn’t know quite what to say. “I will, Professor,” was all he could manage. “Thank you.” Then Ellerstein was walking back up to the hatch, where the crewman helped him down the retractable ladder and then closed it up. The crewman came down and made sure David was strapped in, gave him a blanket to wrap around his legs, and went forward. Five minutes later they were airborne over the black Mediterranean.