The Galilean Secret: A Novel (33 page)

“Couldn’t you have waited until I contacted you? If my father’s people hear I’m associated with a Christian artifact, my life will not be worth much.”

Brother Gregory unlocked and opened the door of the small conference room. “I promise I won’t mention your name. The timing of your discovery, right before the March for Peace, was more than a coincidence.” He put a hand on Karim’s shoulder. “Think about it. This is God’s plan, to make the discovery known so that people from all countries, from all religions, can come together to learn its message of peace. This message must be told now, when the world is in such turmoil, and I am willing to go to jail if necessary in order to tell it.”

Karim stepped into the bookshelf-lined room as Brother Gregory spread out his original translation on the center table, along with his statement for the news conference. The monk pointed to the documents. “I wanted to show you what I plan to say.”

Seeing the pages renewed Karim’s concern. “Even if you don’t reveal my name, someone is sure to discover my association with the scroll. You saw the media outside. They will never stop until they have answers.”

Brother Gregory squeezed Karim’s arm. “Don’t you see? When you didn’t return for over a week, I had no choice but to act. No serious scholar believes that Judas Iscariot wrote to Mary Magdalene before he hanged himself. The idea of excavating the Cave of Gethsemane sounds ludicrous to them. At the news conference, I’ll reveal the positive results of my tests on the scroll. We need the publicity in order to generate support for the excavation. Only by finding Judas’ note can we definitively prove that the Jesus letter is genuine.”

Karim pulled his arm away. “Yes, but I’m Sadiq Musalaha’s son. Being too closely associated with Christianity would bring persecution to any Muslim. For me it could be a death sentence.” Karim felt blood rise into his cheeks, unable to hide his anguish.

The monk pulled a chair from under the table and sat down, gentle eyes directed at Karim. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to deceive you.”

“Well, I feel deceived, whether you meant to or not.” Karim scanned the books that lined the walls of the room. It felt as if Brother Gregory were plunging him deeper into chaos. No words or wishes could transport him back to his orderly past. With Rachel estranged and the news conference planned, all he could do was live the painful present—and hope that the uncertain future wouldn’t grow even worse. He spotted a copy of the Qur’an and walked over and placed it on the table next to the translation.

Brother Gregory stood and moved to the other side of the table.

The backs of Karim’s eyes stung as he studied the Qur’an and the translation side by side. The Jesus letter set forth the Qur’an’s highest ideals, which Karim found hard to practice. He returned the Qur’an to the shelf and spoke as he walked back to the table. “Promoting Christianity is a heresy for any Muslim. My father’s followers will kill me if they even suspect that I’m associated with a Christian document that advocates peace and nonviolence.”

Brother Gregory flashed Karim a compassionate look. “The news conference is tomorrow. Television crews will be here, as well as representatives from major museums and universities and even the Vatican. The Jesus letter has the potential to draw thousands of people to Jerusalem. The only artifact of its kind is the Shroud of Turin, the alleged burial cloth of Christ. Whenever the shroud is displayed, millions of people flock to view it. Can you imagine the drawing power of a document written by Jesus? The organizers of the March for Peace heard about it through leaks to the media and they’ve asked to have the scroll displayed at the culminating ceremony at the Wailing Wall. I think it’s a wonderful idea. I can’t help but believe that God’s timing was meant to be. Besides, it’s too late to cancel. You saw the media.”

Karim shook his head. “After Abbot Zeno’s betrayal, it’s hard to know who to trust, what to believe.”

Brother Gregory relaxed his shoulders and leaned forward. “True. A sacred artifact can be an ally for peace or an instrument of division. It depends on whether we use it to serve others or for personal gain.”

“I have no interest in gaining anything from the scroll. All I want now is for Rachel to forgive me.”

“I suggest that you write her again. Tell her about the news conference; invite her to attend. It could be your last chance to. . .” He left the words unfinished.

Karim stared at the translation of the Jesus letter and thought of how it had brought him and Rachel together. He glimpsed a few lines and remembered the compassion she had shown him, the softness of her touch, the urgency of her kisses.

The translation of the letter lay motionless, issuing a silent invitation that spoke of the power and potential of love.

No, the letter issued him a challenge.

What he had with Rachel was real, and he couldn’t give up on it.

Not now.

Not ever.

Karim stood. “May I use a computer?”

“Yes, of course.” Brother Gregory led Karim out of the conference room and locked the door. Then the monk took him to a cell-like room that contained several computers. “I have work to do in my apartment,” the monk said, turning to go. “I’ll give you some time alone.”

After Brother Gregory left, Karim sat down at the first terminal, logged on and began to type

Dear Rachel,

A news conference will be held at Holy Angels Monastery tomorrow. Brother Gregory has decided to make the Jesus letter public. I hope you will be there. I also want you to know that you gave me something beyond happiness or even joy. You gave me hope for a future in which Muslims and Jews can sit down as friends. Where war and violence are no longer committed in the name of religion.

Our love began amid terror, and love is the only way to end this violence. I believed this message before we found each other. Now I know it’s true. If everyone could experience what we had together, there would be no more bloodstained streets or cries of anguish.

Compassion and forgiveness are the greatest gifts two people can offer each other. I don’t understand the gifts, nor can I describe them adequately. But oh, Rachel! We must keep working for a better world for both Palestinians and Israelis. A peaceful world in which love has finally made all things new.

I pray that you have had time to reflect on what I wrote earlier, and that you will accept my deepest apology and forgive me. If you cannot, I will still love you, and I believe that someday, perhaps in the world to come, we will meet again and our souls will rediscover the oneness we shared.

Until then and forever, I am yours,

Karim

After sending the e-mail, Karim navigated to the web site set up to promote the demonstration in Jerusalem. He began to read the latest updates but stopped when he heard the library door open. He hurried into the reading room and saw Brother Gregory running toward him, red-faced and frowning. “I just got a call from Robert Kenyon.” The monk spoke rapidly, his tone urgent. “He has kidnapped Rachel. He’ll be watching the news conference tomorrow, and he demands that we name him as the one who discovered the scroll. Only if we give him full credit and only if we deliver my laptop and original translation to him will he release Rachel.”

Karim felt the blood drain from his cheeks. The walls of the library started to close in on him. “Oh no, not Rachel.” He buried his face in his hands, trying to gather his composure. “Kenyon is known as a respected archaeologist, but he attacked me with a trowel at Qumran. There’s no telling how far he’ll go to get what he wants.” He released a breath and shot the monk an anxious stare.

Brother Gregory said, “But I can’t give in to his corruption. If I agree to this deception, the GAA could prosecute me for fraud. We must call the police.”

“What leads could we give them? Did you get Kenyon’s number?”

“It was blocked.”

Karim threw up his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.” He narrowed his eyes and spoke with exasperation. “The police couldn’t possibly rescue Rachel before the press conference. With no leads, where would they begin to look? Besides, calling them would be too risky. Kenyon’s probably bluffing, but we can’t take that chance. You have no choice but to say that Kenyon found the scroll, and I’ll deliver your laptop and translation materials to him.”

Brother Gregory recoiled as his eyes darted around the room. “Perhaps you’re right. But I don’t trust Kenyon. He could kill Rachel anyway, and then we’d lose her and our credibility.”

“We have no choice.”

“But the truth will eventually come out, and if I get caught lying about who found the scroll, I could be accused of forging it. The media will ridicule the Jesus letter as a fake, and my career will be over. God’s work will have gone unfinished.”

Karim grabbed the monk by the shoulders. “If you won’t meet Kenyon’s demand, I will—even if it means going on TV.”

“That would be too dangerous. Your face would be splashed everywhere.”

“Yes, but what choice do I have?”

Brother Gregory hesitated. Then, with a nod of his head, he embraced Karim and stepped away. “You’re right. What else can we do?” As if fully committed now, he began making plans. “I’ve compiled a lot of evidence to authenticate the scroll, but no one will believe it if I’m caught in a lie. I suggest that I lead the news conference and make the opening statement. I will answer all questions about the radiocarbon dating, the ink and linguistic analysis, and the multispectral imaging of the scroll. But I will refer the questions about who found it to you.”

Karim fought to steady his knees as he followed Brother Gregory to his apartment. An image of Rachel bound and gagged roiled his thoughts. The stones on the walkway felt hot as he tried to figure out how to find her. He decided it was futile and silently cursed the rogue archaeologist who held her. He saw the television crews outside the gates, surrounding the monastery like an invading army, and heard the din of voices and vehicles. The thought of these crews broadcasting tomorrow’s news conference made the midday sun seem blindingly bright.

He could never have imagined that finding the scroll would lead to this. Part of him wished he had left it buried at Qumran. Another part knew he couldn’t go back. He only hoped that Rachel had received his e-mails before she was abducted and knew that he loved her. Then, if he died as a result of the news conference, at least he would be at peace.

Bethlehem

Tuesday, April 16

IT WAS THE MOST MOMENTOUS EVENT KARIM HAD EVER EXPERIENCED. Only at the Kaaba in Mecca had he felt so engulfed by a swarm of humanity. The reporters, photographers and television crews packed the reading room of the monastery library. Their animated conversations and the clicking of cameras created an aura of anticipation and excitement. And yet the historic news conference, in this airy but unadorned space, held little luster for Karim.

His words might determine whether Rachel Sharett lived or died.

He ran a hand across the metal edge of his front-row seat as Brother Gregory stepped to the podium. The incessant flashes from hundreds of cameras illumined the scholarly monk’s face.

Fast approaching his turn before the cameras, Karim tightened his hands into fists and then loosened them, but no matter how many times he repeated the motion, he couldn’t calm his anxiety. He would have to lie to save Rachel, and then he would have to hide from his father’s men. Only the thought of Rachel seeing him on TV gave him solace. He yearned for her to know that his love for her was constant.

As Karim waited for Brother Gregory to speak, he thought of Judas Iscariot and his feelings for Mary Magdalene—and whether Judas had written down his feelings.

Brother Gregory nodded at the experts seated to the left of the podium and then he turned toward the scroll. It lay on the table to his right, protected by a Plexiglas cover and draped with a purple cloth. Karim sensed reverence in the man’s gaze. The white-robed monk drew a deep breath, introduced himself and then said, “Let me assure you that as a scholar of Near Eastern languages and civilizations, I am not given to exaggeration. But in the long history of the discovery of antiquities, never has a find been as momentous as this one.”

To his right Karim caught a glimpse of the dignitaries seated beside him in front—the head of the Semitic Museum, the chief archaeology officer of the Government Antiquities Agency, the director of the Society for the Prevention of Antiquities Robbery. They had the best view and didn’t have to compete with representatives from major universities and seminaries, archaeological and cultural associations, and research organizations such as the National Geographic Society.