‘A triple scotch, barman. My vocal chords need oiling,’ Lonergan said as he sat on a bar stool, belching loudly.
More than one eyebrow was raised among the occupants of the white lounge chairs scattered around the elegant surrounds of the Hotel Lungarno’s main bar.
‘ Certamente, Signor,’ the barman replied. ‘You are a singer?’ he asked with a smile, his English pronunciation less than perfect but streets ahead of Lonergan’s Italian.
‘Good God, man. Are you all mad over here? I have been lecturing to a very large and appreciative audience on the mysteries of the Dead Sea Scrolls. You’ve heard of the Lonergan Lectures? They’re quite famous.’
‘Ah! Monsignor Lonergan.’
‘The very same.’
‘There is a message for you.’
It did not occur to Derek Lonergan that the barman’s recognition might be due solely to the name written on the phone message which said, ‘Urgent you return to Jerusalem immediately. La Franci.’
‘ Lei e va bene, Signor? ’ the barman asked, a concerned look on his face.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Jerusalem
T he day of the peace ceremony had dawned fine and warm, and Cohatek’s chief sound engineer had spent the day supervising the preparations. It was late afternoon and Yusef leaned against one of the scaffoldings and looked around the sanitised Damascus Gate, now sealed off by the Israeli Army, minus the usual tanks and armoured vehicles. Much to the chagrin of some in the military, the Prime Minister had directed that ‘all life was to be respected’ and a new policy of absolute minimum force had been applied.
Despite this, not everyone was in favour of the peace agreement and the minimal presence was still visible. Every chair, table, box of equipment and even the outdoor toilets had been subjected to rigorous searches by hundreds of ordinary soldiers, bomb squads and sniffer dogs. Banks of magnetometers had been set up at all of the entrances and young Israeli soldiers guarded the checkpoints nervously. All but the prime ministerial parties and cleared VIPs would have to pass through these if they wanted to watch the ceremony. Lengthy queues were already forming.
Even with all those defences in place Yusef knew that a determined attack could still succeed and he nodded to the young Palestinian who had been put on the payroll. The false papers had passed scrutiny and Yusef watched as the young man slid behind the wheel of the forklift. Suddenly the forklift lurched backwards into the speaker’s lectern, the one with the specially constructed motifs on the front. The grinding crunch caught the attention of everyone in the area and Yusef rushed over to the hapless driver, shaking his fist.
‘You stupid fucking idiot!’ he swore. ‘Look what you’ve done!’ Yusef stared at the shattered remains of the lectern with a look of despair on his face. He was quickly joined by two Israeli officers, one of them Brigadier General Avrahim Mishal, the man tasked with the security for the peace ceremony.
‘Do you have another one?’ General Mishal asked.
‘Yes, but we don’t have much time. At least these haven’t been damaged,’ Yusef replied, running his hands over the symbols of Israel and Palestine. ‘Would it be possible to provide an escort, General?’ he asked. ‘Our warehouse is in West Jerusalem and I’m not sure we’ll get a replacement through the traffic in time.’
Brigadier General Mishal spoke to the young captain at his side. ‘Get this man a truck and an escort and get the replacement back here as soon as you can.’
An hour later Yusef watched as the soldiers at the checkpoint on Nablus Road stopped the Israeli Army truck with the replacement lectern strapped in the back. A short conversation followed between the captain in the front of the truck and the soldier manning the checkpoint and the truck was waved through.
It took Yusef twenty minutes to re-attach the national symbols and re-wire a new microphone to the system on the podium under the Damascus Gate. His voice boomed over the Old City of Jerusalem.
‘Testing… testing… testing…’ Satisfied, he switched the microphone off.
‘Everything OK?’ General Mishal asked, coming over from where he had been standing watching the crowd fill the area in front of the ancient gate.
‘Fine, thank you, and thank you for the escort. I don’t think we could have got the replacement here without it,’ Yusef replied.
‘Happy to help,’ General Mishal said with a smile.
Deciphering the Omega Scroll had taken two painstaking months, and now there were only ten pieces left. On the afternoon of the peace ceremony David and Allegra packed up their finery for the evening and headed over to Patrick’s.
‘Did you see the article in the Jerusalem Post on the safe murder a couple of days ago?’ Patrick asked. ‘Odd that it’s taken this long to reach the press.’
‘It probably had something to do with the American man. Tom tells me he was a CIA agent, and there was a suppression order on the media, which makes it all murkier still.’
‘It’s a pretty vague article,’ Allegra said. ‘They’ve yet to identify him, and after what happened to John Paul I, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Vatican’s gorillas have something to do with it.’
‘Trouble is it’s stirred up another bucket load of media interest in the Omega Scroll, so I hope whoever thinks they’ve grabbed it doesn’t look too closely at what they’ve got,’ David said, easing another fragment into place. Just four more to go. Already the messages on the Magdalene Numbers and DNA were very clear. The warning was almost complete.
‘And two revelations will ridicule a third,’ he said, translating the Koine, ‘though the revelations be from Abraham, all of them.’
‘It’s beginning to look like Yossi was right about the clash of civilisations,’ Patrick observed sombrely. ‘It’s nearly half past six though, perhaps we’d better be leaving this for tomorrow.’
‘Yes,’ David said reluctantly. ‘By the time we walk down there and get through security the orchestra will be well and truly warmed up. This has waited two thousand years, it can wait another day.’
David’s mobile rang and he picked it up from the table.
‘David Kaufmann.’
Allegra knew instinctively that something was not quite right and she waited anxiously for him to hang up.
‘That was Hafiz,’ David said, his mind racing. ‘He’s just got a message to say that Lonergan is due in from Europe later tonight. He’s going to the museum straight from the airport and the Director is meeting him at nine. Hafiz has been told to stay on duty in case he’s needed.’
‘He’s not due back for another month!’
‘He’s supposed to be speaking to the London Archaeological Society next week. Lonergan wouldn’t be missing a gig like that for the world,’ Patrick observed.
‘Not to mention working after hours. He’s normally at the bar by five,’ Allegra said, realising that time was running out.
‘It can only mean one thing,’ David said. ‘Someone’s ordered him back, and I’ll wager it’s because of that article on the Omega Scroll.’
‘Lonergan will be worried that the fragments might have come from his trunk and if he’s going straight to the museum he’ll be wanting to check it before he meets with the Director,’ Allegra said.
‘You’re right, I wish I’d put the Gospel of Thomas back when we got the three duplicates of the Omega fragments. A bit late now,’ David reflected ruefully, ‘but we can’t afford to take the risk. I’ll have to get the fragments of the Gospel of Thomas back into the vault now. Hopefully Lonergan won’t search his trunk too closely.’
‘What about the ceremony, David. We’ll miss it!’
‘You go with Patrick, I’ll join you both later.’
‘No you don’t, I’m coming with you. If we get to the vault in time, maybe we can still catch some of the ceremony later.’