At the mention of Petroni’s name Lonergan started sobering up. ‘Yes,’ he said, nodding his head.
‘You will follow me, please.’
The Turk disappeared under the stone ramparts and into the Old City. Derek Lonergan struggled to keep up with the faded red fez as he moved quickly down alleys and through covered streets, and into the Christian Quarter where the Turk disappeared into a dingy narrow stone cul-de-sac, pushed open an old heavy door and beckoned for him to follow.
Struggling for breath and unused to anything more physical than raising his right arm, Derek Lonergan heaved himself up a narrow flight of stone steps, squeezed through a small kitchen and entered an inner sitting room.
‘Was all that necessary?’ Lonergan wheezed, collapsing into a heavy wooden chair.
‘I think when you see what I have, Monsignor Lonergan, you will agree that it would be unwise for either of us to be followed by the authorities or anyone else.’ The Turk lifted some coir matting and prised loose three of the old floorboards. From the cavity in the floor he removed a long olive wood box, leaving another larger box in place. He took out a faded dirty yellow linen roll and placed it on the heavy scarred wooden bench that sat in the middle of the small room.
Derek Lonergan blinked, his memory stirring. He had seen the dirty yellow linen before, around several of the Dead Sea Scrolls that had been brought to the Rockefeller.
‘What do you have there?’ he asked, levering himself out of the chair, his voice hoarse with excitement.
‘A Dead Sea Scroll,’ the Turk replied nonchalantly, noting that the panting of his quarry’s breathing had nothing to do with physical exertion.
‘Where did you get it?’ Lonergan demanded. ‘Let me see.’
The Turk ignored the question, watching while Lonergan unwrapped the priceless two-thousand-year-old artefact. He handed him an old silver magnifying glass that had belonged to his father.
For a long time Derek Lonergan looked at the faded manuscript, his heart thumping against his chest. It was in Koine, and immediately Lonergan knew it meant only one thing. There had only been one Dead Sea Scroll that had been written in the Greek lingua franca of the day, and he checked and re-checked his translation of the ancient script. Stay calm, he told himself, stay calm. On no account must the little Turk twig to what was written on this scroll and he put his hands in his pockets to hide his trembling fingers. The Magdalene Numbers, the Essenes writing on the origin of life, and the warning of the destruction of civilisation at the hands of a new faith. It was nothing short of explosive.
The Turk remained impassive but Monsignor Lonergan’s reaction had not escaped his attention. He could see the astonishment in Lonergan’s eyes.
‘Where did you get this from?’ Derek Lonergan asked again.
‘It came from a place where the sea is low and nothing lives within it,’ the Turk replied cryptically. ‘But measured against what is in this scroll, the exact location of the discovery is not important, Monsignor Lonergan. Fortunately for the Catholic Church, it is for sale.’
‘How much?’ Lonergan asked quickly, too quickly.
The Turk heard the eagerness in his adversary’s voice. ‘Fifty million dollars,’ he answered.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Lonergan blurted out. ‘Out of the question. It is a minor document. We would pay one million and not a solitary cent more,’ he added pompously, determined not to be cornered by some shifty little backstreet dealer. Lonergan assumed there would not be anyone in the Turk’s circle who could decipher the ancient text. ‘Besides, you are dealing in antiquities, which is illegal.’
‘As you wish, Monsignor Lonergan,’ the Turk responded with a polite smile that held a touch of amusement at Lonergan’s ego and naivety. The Turk’s father had sold a copy of the Omega Scroll for ten million dollars in 1978 and the Church had not blinked. Obviously this buffoon was unaware of that. ‘I apologise for troubling you.’
‘One million dollars is a lot of money,’ Lonergan stated angrily.
‘You and I both know it is worth considerably more to the Catholic Church than fifty million dollars, but for that price I would also throw in the other box.’
‘What’s in that?’ Lonergan asked, his eyes narrowing.
‘Perhaps I should have mentioned it before,’ the Turk said. Had Lonergan accepted the first offer he would not have mentioned it at all.
‘Show me,’ Lonergan demanded.
It took the two of them to lift the larger olive wood box out of the floor cavity. The Turk unlocked the heavy brass padlock.
Derek Lonergan’s eyes widened. The box was full of hundreds of fragments. He took one out and examined it carefully with the magnifying glass.
‘Probably a fragment of Isaiah,’ he said at last. ‘Again, it is interesting but not of great value.’ He took another fragment. Unlike the Great Isaiah and the Omega Scrolls, this one was written in ancient Greek. Interesting that a Gnostic Gospel should be in the trunk, he thought, although not out of the question in the murky world of the black market.
‘The fifth gospel, the Gospel of Thomas,’ Lonergan announced importantly.
‘I see you are well versed in the languages of the ancients, Monsignor Lonergan.’
Lonergan sniffed haughtily. ‘It is also of no consequence. A copy of this was found at Nag Hammadi and the translation is freely available to any scholar who wishes to access it.’
‘Then perhaps you would find these more interesting, Monsignor Lonergan.’ The Turk reached for a small clear plastic bag that had been taped under the lid of the box. Inside the bag were three fragments. Once they were placed on the table Lonergan’s pulse raced as he began to translate the ancient Koine.
‘The Path to the Omega…’ This time he made no attempt to hide his astonishment. The three fragments contained identical words to the scroll he had translated earlier. This was another copy of the great Omega Scroll.
‘You see, Monsignor Lonergan, we have reason to believe that in amongst the fragments in this box there is a second copy of the scroll you have just declined to purchase. As you rightly point out there will also most likely be another complete Scroll of Isaiah. The Essenes were a highly organised people, Monsignor Lonergan. You should not be surprised that their scribes ensured their library contained copies of their most precious writings. In addition, there is likely to be a complete copy of the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas. This box would be part of the purchase.’
Once more Derek Lonergan forced himself to remain calm. ‘Where did these come from,’ he asked again.
‘As I have said, Monsignor, that is not important.’ The Turk had no intention of discussing the boxes he had found under a loose floorboard after his father died and he had taken over the clutter of his antiquities store in Bethlehem.
‘It is unfortunate that in the process of these scrolls coming into my hands the second copy has been allowed to disintegrate, and doubly unfortunate that the fragments have become hopelessly mixed with the other scrolls. Some of these Bedouins are not well schooled in handling ancient parchment, but they know the value of these things. As do I,’ he added pointedly.
‘Fifty million dollars is still out of the question,’ Lonergan said. ‘Even if they are genuine, the documents already exist in the wider world. The great Isaiah Scroll is in the Shrine of the Book and any other scroll in here is likely to be already under study in the Scrollery at the Rockefeller Museum,’ Lonergan lied.
‘Perhaps, Monsignor Lonergan, perhaps. Although given the lack of progress in the Scrollery, the wider academic community would welcome the chance to provide, shall we say, more productive scholarship on their meaning. Again, I apologise for bothering you, it’s just that we wanted to give the Catholic Church first option. No doubt I will be able to find other buyers,’ he said, re-taping the plastic bag underneath the lid. ‘Like the fifth, sixth and seventh gospels of Thomas, Philip and Mary Magdalene I’m sure they will find the Eighth Gospel… the Omega Scroll most interesting.’