The Moses Riddle (Thomas McAllister 'Treasure Hunter' Adventure Book 1) (9 page)

1. You shall have no other Gods before me.
2. You shall worship no idols or graven images.
3. You shall not take the Lord’s name in vain.
4. You shall keep the Sabbath Day holy.
5. You shall honor your father and mother.
6. You shall not murder.
7. You shall not commit adultery.
8. You shall not steal.
9. You shall not bear false witness.
10. You shall not covet your neighbor’s house, or spouse.

Later, in Chapter 32, Moses
returned
to Mount Sinai. This time God wrote the Commandments on two stone tablets and gave Moses specific instructions on how to build a special chest, called an ark, in which to carry them. He also gave Moses instructions on how to make other sacred objects, such as a bejeweled gold breastplate, two onyx balls inscribed with the names of the twelve tribes, and a golden crown.

Thomas recognized the movie scene that Charlton Heston had made famous, in Chapter 32, verse 19. Moses had come down from Mt. Sinai with the tablets, to find his people worshipping a golden calf and involved in licentious behavior. In his anger, he had thrown the two stone tablets to the ground, destroying them. Immediately after the tablets were broken, Moses and Aaron, and those faithful to God, had slaughtered thousands of their former followers.

It was here that Thomas realized something new about the story. Up to this point, Moses had only verbally communicated the Ten Commandments to his people. No one had actually seen them, because the tablets had been smashed. Thomas had been taught that the Ark of the Covenant contained the tablets. But, if Moses had shattered them . . . how could they be in the Ark? Maybe only the fragments were inside? Gripped by the story, Thomas read on.

Suddenly, he discovered a passage that he didn’t remember ever having read before. It contained a wholly different message, which astounded him. He wiped his forehead and looked furtively around the First Class cabin. The other passengers were diligently reading novels and business periodicals. No one was paying attention to him.

In Chapter 34, verse 1, God had told Moses, “Cut two tablets of stone, like the first two, and I will write upon the tablets the words that were on the first tablets, which you broke.” God went on to tell Moses to make a second Ark, but not like the first golden one. This one was to be a simple wooden box, made from acacia wood.

Thomas reached into his bag and pulled out the Moses riddle. The words echoed in his mind, but he carefully reread the lines. “
Broken once, my treasure must be preserved for future civilizations to experience.”
And then
, “Like Egypt, it appears as one. Like Egypt if you know her, it is two. This is not my original, but my only one.”

That was it! Moses was telling him that the object was the second set of Commandments contained in the second Ark, the simple wooden one.
“Yes!” he said, softly, but with passion to himself.
The woman in the seat next to his looked over. “Sorry,” he said, “I just solved a very difficult riddle.”
She smiled, mouthing the words, “No problem,” before returning to her reading.
He had solved the riddle
. He didn’t know where the treasure was but he did know what it was. Now if he could locate it, he could, with one find, prove that both pre-Columbian cross-Atlantic communication took place
and
uncover one of, if not
the
, greatest lost treasure that mankind had ever known. It would also redeem him professionally. But there was more.
Thomas kept reading and two significant questions arose.
Later in Exodus, after the new tablets were made, Moses had gone ahead with the construction of the ornamental golden Ark. So there are two Arks . . . the ornamental one and the simple one, but only one set of tablets. I wonder which one Moses was referring to in the riddle, the gold one or the plain one? He re-read the riddle but it gave him no clue.
The second astonishing fact he found was that after Moses returned from Mt. Sinai the second time, with the new set of tablets God had given him, he had summoned all of Israel and read them the Commandments as written by God. This was the first time he had read the text
as written
. In the two earlier references to the Commandments they had either been recited from memory, Exodus 20, or broken and not recited at all, Exodus 32. So that passage—Exodus 34—recounted the first time his people had heard God’s real and intended Commandments.
And . . they were not the same as before. They were very different!
Thomas read and reread the passages. Each time, he came to the same conclusion. The real Ten Commandments, as written by God on the second set of tablets, mentioned nothing about killing, committing adultery, stealing or spreading lies about others. Not a word!
Can this possibly be true? If so, why haven’t scholars ever made light of this important contradiction? It’s right here in the Bible.
Thomas quickly sorted through the implications. What might happen if he found the real tablets and made public that the four most strict Commandments people live by are not those that God intended? But, rather, those that Moses made up to keep his rowdy followers in line?
First, of course, no one would believe him. But once the tablets were dated, and verified by comparing Exodus 20 to Exodus 34, it would be obvious. A perfect fit. He would have proof that Moses lied, and it would reveal to the world that the Ten Commandments of today, those that our legal system are based on, are false. It would demonstrate that the real Commandments are much more lenient. But would this be a good thing? Did he want to discredit the major Jewish prophet, and a minor Islamic one, while showing that the rules God intended us to live by were more lenient than originally thought?
He continued that line of thinking. People are strange. If the public found out that the real Ten Commandments do not match the accepted ones, certain parts of society might come apart at the seams. Religion might be discredited and crime could skyrocket. Historically speaking, the Commandments were the foundation of the judicial system. They drove order and discipline into law making. What might happen to those same laws, that same peaceful order, if it was shown that the basis for which they were formed was a lie? If it were shown that a prophet who had a key relationship with God, the major prophet of the Jewish faith, had lied? Thomas could see it on the cover of every newspaper in every city in the world: Moses Lied—thou shall not kill, lie, steal, or commit adultery not true Commandments! Let the murderous orgy begin.
But that was only half of it. Next would come any archeologist’s worst nightmare: a dispute over ownership. It wouldn’t just be the Pope, the Jews, and the Christians. Oh no. The entire Middle East, the Arab epicenter, would demand the Commandments be given to them. Each religion, each culture, was in its own way iconolatristic. Each was willing to change laws, impose sanctions, reverse promises, and shed blood for possession of certain artifacts. They had proven it many times. Government involvement in any archeological find always signaled trouble. Having a treasure impounded for two years while bureaucrats lazily debated provenance took all the fun out of the job.
Thomas reigned in his imagination. There was no guarantee he would find anything. Still, he was happy with his progress. He now felt reasonably sure that he knew what the treasure was. He still didn’t know where to look for it. There was a lot of land in between Texas and South America, but he was excited about the search.
“I can get you a blanket if you’re cold, Mr. McAlister.” The stewardess had noticed the goose bumps on Thomas’s arm.
“Thanks for asking, but how about a glass of celebratory champagne?”
“What are you celebrating?” Expectantly.
“Moses.”
“Well, that’s a first.” She paused. “I’ll be right back.” She saw his Bible as she turned away.
Damn
, she thought,
he’s a priest. I keep telling mother all the good ones are taken
.
A short time later, he had his champagne.

Before leaving Egypt, he’d called the university to talk to Don Ozgood again. He’d told him he was looking for a Mexican archeologist who specialized in the Maya, to serve as a consultant and guide for a short trip he was taking to Mexico. Ozgood recommended a man named Arturo Bandera. Ozgood’s friend, and occasional guest speaker, Bandera was a Mayan expert living in the state of Oaxaca. Thomas had gotten the address, thanked Ozgood, and immediately called Bandera.

Bandera was home on sabbatical and there was enough good chemistry on the phone, that after a short introduction and phone interview, Thomas agreed to fly down and meet with him in person. That way, if Bandera were the right man to help him, they could start right away. If, for some reason, he and Bandera didn’t click, he’d already be in Mexico and could interview other potential candidates.

The cab that brought him home from the airport was backing out of his driveway, and Thomas was in the process of unlocking his door and thinking about what to pack for a hot Mexican trip, when someone walked up behind him.

“Your friends from the university were here while you were away.” “
What
?”
“Your friends from the university came by while you were away.” Mrs. Wallace, the neighbor who always watered his plants and fed his beetle when he was away, was scurrying up the driveway. She lived alone and was a terrible snoop, but Thomas didn’t mind. He had nothing to hide and she was extremely reliable.

She had her knotted her brown hair into a tight bun that accentuated her shrew-like face. Her drab-green knee-length dress was covered with one of the two aprons she rotated daily. Today, it was the aqua one.

“What friends, Mrs. Wallace? I wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you sure it was someone from the university?” Thomas waited for her to reach him and then invited her into the house. He threw his briefcase onto the couch and removed his suit jacket, draping it carelessly over the arm of the chair while he listened.

“Yes. Two very nice men. They knocked at the door while I was feeding Howard. They said they were colleagues of yours at the university. They said they needed to talk with you about your current research project. I told them you were away for a few days. They asked if I knew where you were.”

“I told them you’d gone to Egypt. You told me that’s where you were going. You didn’t say I shouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Did they ask any more questions?”
“Yes, they certainly did. They wanted to know if you’d left the university before or after you started your current project. Shouldn’t they have known that? I told them I hadn’t the slightest idea and that it wasn’t my business. But . . . .” Mrs. Wallace’s mouth closed and she seemed to be thinking about the conversation.
“But, what?”
“Well, it was the way they looked at each other. They seemed to think you purposely quit your job to work on some new project.”
Thomas’s mind raced through a series of possibilities. Who would know that he was working on something? Martha, Don Ozgood, and . . .
Dr. Sinistar
.
“Was one of the men in a wheelchair?”
“No, they both walked fine. I did notice that someone waited in the car for them.”
“What else did these colleagues of mine ask?”
“Nothing. Once I told them I didn’t know anything, they stopped asking me questions. They could tell I didn’t like their nosiness.” Mrs. Wallace patted her bun. “Besides, I didn’t particularly like the way they looked.”
“What did they look like?”
“Well, one had very dark skin, but he wasn’t black, mind you. He looked Middle Eastern, and, well, since you’re an Egyptologist, I just figured that he was Egyptian. He was short and kind of heavy. He had a little mustache. Too little for the shape of his face. The other man was like a thin version of Al Gore. Basic looking.”
Thomas couldn’t think of a single Egyptian acquaintance who matched Mrs. Wallace’s descriptions. He wondered what Dr. Sinistar looked like. But it couldn’t have been Sinistar, since he didn’t have the use of his legs. He had no idea who the other person could’ve been.
“If it’s something important, they’ll call or come by again. Don’t worry about it, you did fine.”
Mrs. Wallace smoothed the front of her apron. “I didn’t particularly care for these men. I won’t judge them, though. Goodness know, I’m no beauty and I’m not perfect, and they were actually . . . very nice.”
Thomas was about to leave the room. “Mrs. Wallace, I have to go on another trip. This one may take longer. Can you feed Howard for me until I return?”
He didn’t wait for her to reply, but took the stairs two at a time, to get to his bedroom. He pulled the largest duffel bag out of the closet and tossed it onto the bed. He located his Kabar survival knife on the shelf above his clothing and threw it into the bag.
“Of course, Thomas.” Mrs. Wallace appeared in the doorway. She was wringing her hands. Suddenly she’d become very nervous.
“Mrs. Wallace? What’s wrong?”
“Well . . . I was hoping you knew those men and were expecting them.”
He stopped packing, realizing something was seriously wrong.
“Why, Mrs. Wallace? Do you have something else to tell me?”
“They asked me if you’d been working here, at home, before you went to Egypt.”
“Yes?” A slow steady stream of dread came over Thomas.
“I told them I didn’t know. You know, that we weren’t so close that I would know something like that. I told them that it was certainly possible because you do keep a home office in the basement.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. Wallace. That’s no big deal.”
She continued, sheepishly. “They . . . asked if they could see your office. They said they needed to get in touch with you, and that maybe something down there would help them figure out where you were.”
Thomas’s pulse quickened. “Yes?”
“They had said they were colleagues of yours, and there was something that you might have that could help them. Something that you wouldn’t need, but that could really help them.” Her eyes began to flood with unshed tears.
“Mrs. Wallace, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t worry about a thing. I don’t keep anything of value here at the house.” He lied. “Can you tell me what happened next.”
She continued, seemingly relieved. “I went downstairs with them. As I said, they were very nice people, Thomas. Not suspicious at all. It’s a good thing I let them go down there, because when we got down to your office, we noticed that you’d left a very valuable Egyptian book, sitting right outside of its special humidifier case.”
The book,
The Amenophis Notes
, didn’t have to be in the case all the time. But he didn’t tell her that, she was already too worried. “Did you put it back in the humidifier?”
“Well, first they looked at everything you had out on your desk, including the book and then they . . . they . . . said that, that book,
The Builder’s Notes
, they called it, was what they were looking for.”
Thomas was fuming inside. They’d looked through his private research!
Mrs. Wallace must have seen it on his face because she immediately said, “Thomas, it was really no big deal. They didn’t care that you’d forgotten to put it back in the case. They said they wanted to borrow the book. They said it wasn’t yours, that it was on loan to you, and they even had a letter confirming everything, that you had signed, with a picture of the book. They said they would return it in a few days. I figured you wouldn’t miss it, since you were in Egypt.”
“Mrs. Wallace, I don’t want you to worry about it. I’m sure I’ll get a phone call soon. I may have a message on my machine right now. You said you didn’t get their names or phone numbers, didn’t you?
“They did show me their credentials, but I didn’t think . . . oh, it all happened so fast. One minute I was feeding little Howard and the next minute, the men were in the basement telling me they needed to borrow the book. They flashed me their cards again and told me the book wasn’t really yours and that they’d bring it back anyway and . . . .”
She kept talking but Thomas tuned her out. He sat on the edge of the bed, evaluating options. His whole plan was in jeopardy. Whoever had taken the book could discover the same clue he had found. They could travel to Saqqara and search for the Moses Riddle, exactly as he had done. Hopefully it wasn’t too late. Quick, decisive action was the only way to prevent disaster. He would have to destroy the riddle. In archeology, there is only one time when it is okay to destroy an historical artifact, and that is when it is done to preserve something of even greater value. The treasure mentioned in the riddle was far more important than the riddle itself. He must save Moses’ carefully hidden artifact from getting into the wrong hands at all costs. He found it difficult to even think of ordering the defacement of the pyramid, but it had to be done. He needed to call Martha immediately. She would have to return to Saqqara, and scrape off the layer of limestone where Moses had carved the riddle.
Thomas grabbed his address book and dashed to the phone, with Mrs. Wallace close behind.
He dialed Martha’s number in Egypt.
“Thomas, please forgive me if I’ve done something wrong! You know I didn’t mean any harm. I hope you’ll still let me come over and feed Howard. If you decide not to, I will completely understand.”
“Mrs. Wallace, please, believe me, this is not your fault. Those men would’ve gotten in here, whether you let them in or not. Don’t you worry about it for a second.”
Martha wasn’t home, and he got her answering machine. “Martha, it’s Thomas. I just got home and discovered someone has stolen the
Amenophis Builders Notes
. I need you to go to the temple and destroy the riddle. A chisel and a hammer should do it. Make sure no one can do what we did. Call me on my voice mail to let me know that you got this message. It needs to be done immediately, Martha. I’ll owe you one.” He started to replace the receiver, but added, “And Martha, be careful.”
Thomas rushed past Mrs. Wallace to the bedroom. He had to move. Whoever was smart to enough to find the riddle would be smart enough to solve it.
“I don’t know when I’m coming back, Mrs. Wallace. You’ve got the key to my house. Please water and feed Howard. And this time, nobody gets in okay? And the conversation I had on the phone is not to be repeated.”
“Okay! Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve learned my lesson. Nobody gets into this house.”

Thomas met Arturo at the airport in Oaxaca and they drove north to his ranch, where he lived with his wife, son, and daughter. He liked Arturo the minute he laid eyes on him, and his feelings were confirmed when he accepted a warm handshake and peered into dark brown, friendly eyes.

Arturo was clearly of Mayan decent, with little, if any, Spanish blood. He was short, no more that 5’3”, had straight shiny black hair, and a typically round Mayan face. He wore Wrangler blue jeans, with a large oval belt buckle made of silver with a gold appliqué lining, a light blue short sleeved shirt and a straw cowboy hat. He dressed like a lot of good field archeologists Thomas had worked with. He spoke excellent English and had an honest smile. The few times Thomas had worked with Hispanic colleagues he’d found them to be innately nice people but sometimes they were so amiable, it had disconcerted him. He’d found himself wondering what they were really thinking behind their smiling eyes. He didn’t get that feeling with Arturo.

Thomas didn’t say so but he also liked Arturo’s faded, red Ford F150 pickup. It was exactly what he would’ve driven if he lived on a ranch outside of Oaxaca. In the field, the more primitive the vehicle, the closer you were to finding something.

They arrived at the ranch as the sun was setting over the western mountains. Before they even reached the house Thomas smelled onions, garlic and the unmistakable scent of fresh cilantro.

They were greeted by Arturo’s two small children, George and Sophie, who introduced themselves to Thomas while tugging and pulling Arturo toward the house. Arturo’s wife, Maria, had put dinner out as soon as she heard the truck coming up the driveway. The minute they walked into the house, she ushered them into the dining room for chicken enchiladas smothered in chiwauwau cheese, Spanish rice, and refried beans.

It was a wonderful dinner, followed by good conversation. Despite his anxiety about the project, Thomas let the conversation unfold naturally. He and Arturo got to know each other, and Thomas came to understand why Don Ozgood had recommended Arturo. He was a first-rate archeologist, in a country with a deep archeological history. He had worked at the top-level sites, meaning he was routinely entrusted with Mexico’s most valuable artifacts. Thomas learned that Arturo had recently been involved in a major find at Copan. As it turned out, Arturo was home for a year, on a sabbatical, writing a book about the recent Copan expedition.

At one point, long after dinner was over, after they had retired to the beautiful patio that Arturo had built, there was a lull in the conversation. Thomas had already decided that Arturo was perfect for his mission. In fact, he found himself hoping that Arturo wouldn’t turn him down. He refilled his wine glass with the smooth Mexican Merlot from the Sierra Madres, and passed the bottle to his new friend. “Arturo, as you know I’m pure Egyptologist. I don’t know much at all about the pre-Columbian history of your country. Or post-Colombian, for that matter.” Thomas paused. “Though I know Benito Juarez was a very great man.”

Arturo raised his glass and they both drank to Juarez. Thomas continued. “I am involved with a very important, private project. I am funding it myself. I have no sponsor. No one else has the information I posses. I have narrowed my search to Mexico, and I need help. I need someone who knows Mexico inside and out. I was hoping you might be that person. If you have time, and the interest . . . .” In America, Thomas would have added that he would compensate Arturo, but he knew a little about the Hispanic culture and it was much, much too early to discuss that type of thing.
Arturo hesitated, and Thomas saw his face harden. Thomas wondered if he’d said something wrong, something offensive.
“Thomas, is your hidden object Olmec or Mayan in origin? Or was it crafted by another Central American culture? With all due respect, sir, all digs inside Mexico must be sanctioned by the Instituto Nacionale de Antropologia e Historia, of which I am a member.”
Thomas immediately understood the reason for Arturo’s concern. Many an honest archeologist had been lured into corruption through the quest for hidden treasure in Mexico. Arturo didn’t know Thomas well enough to know that he wasn’t just a greedy looter looking for gold wherever he could find it. “No, no, Arturo. What I am looking for was made elsewhere, in the Middle East, actually, and is only being
stored
in Mexico. I assure you it is not of Mexican origin. If it were, I would certainly go through proper channels.”
Arturo looked relieved. “I had to make sure. Ever since those Spaniards showed up a few hundred years ago, we’ve been a little wary of foreigners wanting to look for treasure in our country. We can continue.”
“If you feel you can trust me, and if you’re interested in participating in something of great historical significance, I will explain the entire thing to you. What I can tell you now is that I would need your help locating the object. I have a few clues as to where it is, but nothing exact. Once we find the object, we’ll need to excavate and remove it. Quickly, if possible. I don’t think I’m the only person looking for it. Some of my research was recently stolen from me and I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
“It’s that valuable.”
“If it’s what I think it is, yes.”
“I am on sabbatical. How long do you think it will take?”
“It’s hard to say. I don’t know enough at this point. I’d guess as little as one week. If I need to return to Arizona for equipment to extract it, that might draw it out to a month. But I want you to know, Arturo, this won’t be a normal archeological dig. I have to move very fast. As I said, my source document has been stolen. It contained my initial clue. There are several steps in between my source document and the treasure, but if I’ve gotten this close, someone else could, too.”
Thomas stopped and thought about the long, sickening gouges Martha’s chisel would make on the soft limestone interior of the temple at Saqarra. “There’ll be no procedure. No real mapping, no offsetting or surveying. We get the treasure and get out. Then, when it’s safe, we can go back and study the site. Obviously I’m generalizing. If you agree to help me, I’ll tell you everything.”
Arturo nodded. “Well, it’s late. Let’s go to bed. We can talk about it more in the morning. Is that all right with you?”
“Of course. You need time to think about this. Talk it over with Maria. It wasn’t in your plans for a sabbatical.”