The Sinai Secret (26 page)

Rauch swung back around to gaze out of the window at nothing in particular. Was that suspicion sufficient to start the mass of bureaucratic paperwork for an extradition warrant? If Reilly proved innocent, Rauch would have to justify the cost of a round-trip ticket from America to tightfisted superiors. Alternatively, he had no other leads and was unlikely to uncover any.

Rauch knew the answer of government employees worldwide: Let his immediate superior make the decision.

upscale groceries/delicatessens, where shoppers listened to opera as they selected applewood-smoked bacon and Jarlsberg quiches at $12.50 a slice.

Lang opened the box, revealing a row of cigars. "Would you like to finish off dinner with a
Cubano,
a Montecristo number two?"

The priest made a selection and held it out while Lang clipped and lit it before his own.

"It's a good thing we do this only every month or so," Francis commented between puffs. "I wouldn't want to declare myself a smoker the next time I filled out an insurance application."

"You mean the Church doesn't provide health insurance?"

"Even the Church can't afford catastrophic health problems. It buys insurance for its employees like any other business."

"I guess relying on prayer and the laying on of hands is a little risky."

"Mus non uni fidit antro,
or, in the vernacular, a wise person always has a backup plan."

The two men enjoyed the aroma of fine tobacco for a moment before Francis asked, "I suppose you got these illegally."

"A mere peccadillo against an unreasonable government."

"Facinus quos inquinat aequat."

"Okay, so I'm a criminal no matter how slight the offense. I suppose you don't want to further enjoy the fruits of unlawful activity."

Francis contemplated the tip of his cigar, a red period on the night's page. "I didn't say that. Besides, I can always confess my sinful complicity, a measure unavailable to the apostate."

Lang watched the smoke drift in the breezeless evening

for a moment. "Now that I've furnished food, drink, and a fine smoke..."

"The necessities of life."

"Whatever. I've got something I'd like you to look over."

Francis gave a theatrical groan. "By now I should expect quid pro quo, particularly from a lawyer and a heretic."

Stepping across the room, Lang moved the telephone to a place in front of one of the speakers for the CD player, selected a disk, and turned up the volume.
Hope they enjoy Vivaldi,
he thought to himself.

"Hey" he said to Francis, "you're the one learned in church history. Presumably that includes the Old Testament."

Francis looked from Lang to the CD player and back again. He had long ago conceded he would never understand some of the weird things his friend did—like turning the sound up instead of down before beginning a conversation.

"Even a heretic can learn," Francis said good-naturedly, reaching for the papers.

Inside, Lang fussed with the dishes while Francis read the translation of what Lang had come to call the Hebrew parchments.

When Francis stood to refill his glass, Lang asked, "Well?"

The priest measured his drink with the care of one fully aware of just how much liquor he could safely hold. "You never cease to amaze me. For a heathen you unearth some of the most startling religious relics. Who translated this?"

"A friend in London, a Jewish friend."

"And the provenance?"

"So far, unknown."

"What makes you think they're genuine?"

Lang almost answered that he doubted people would be getting killed over a historical practical joke, but he shared as little of the more violent side of his life as possible. Even though he was sure his friend would understand, Lang was never in a mood to hear the string of homilies on the virtues of nonviolence that would follow.

"You're the one in the faith business. Assume they're real."

Francis looked around to make sure he wasn't stepping on Grumps and sat down.

He read for a few minutes. "First, it's no surprise that Moses was no Jew. Exodus two:nineteen, I think."

"Moses, the Jews' great lawgiver, not a Jew himself?"

"Exodus says not."

Fascinated, Lang sat at the kitchen bar, facing the small living room and his guest. "Then who was he?"

"A good question. Akhenaten, son of Amenhotep III by Queen Tiyre, a descendant of Esau, elder brother of Jacob, who became Israel."

Lang took a drink. "You've lost me."

"Sorry. As your documents state and some biblical scholars have long thought, Moses was actually of royal blood. In fact, the Egyptian word
Mose
means 'royal.' The ancient Greek is
Mosis.
There are only clues. For instance, he was raised in the royal household of a pharaoh."

"I thought he was found in a basket, where he'd been hidden to avoid the killing of Israelite babies."

Francis winked over his glass. "You'd never make that stand up in court To accept it, we must also accept that Pharaoh's daughter conspired to frustrate her father's orders, and that Moses's sister just happened to be nearby when he was found, even though she is never specifically identified. Later on, we learn of a Miriam who is described as a sister of both Moses and Aaron. The basket story is most likely an explanation of how an Israelite grew up in the royal household. Within a few years the new pharaoh, Akhenaten, rejected the polytheism of Egyptian religion, worshiping a single god represented by a sunlike disk. The new king closed the temples, infuriating the powerful priests. The swell of public opinion forced his abdication at a time about ten years before Moses's reappearance, still giving allegiance to the single god with no name. Could Akhenaten and Moses be one and the same?

"The Israelites might be willing to follow a former pharaoh, even one who lacked the usual oratorical skill attributed to most biblical leaders. See Exodus three:twelve."

"Wait a minute," Lang said, his cigar dead and forgotten in an ashtray. "Are you telling me that Moses was actually an Egyptian pharaoh?"

Francis was looking around for a relight for his own smoke. Lang tossed him a box of wooden matches. "The dates for Akhenaten, who became Amenhotep IV match, as do the dates when the new king closed all the temples. Consider that the single-god king was deposed about the same time Moses was banished and returned about the same time. Then there was the snake thing. Moses obviously knew the tricks of the court magicians, knowledge the royal court would have been unlikely to share with some maker of bricks.

"Look at the papers you've given me. They use 'Moses' and 'Pharaoh' interchangeably."

"So, they were the same?"

Francis shrugged. "No way to tell for sure. But there is a certain logic: Egypt forced a monotheistic ruler out. From the dates on the various stelae in front of tombs and obelisks, we know the dates fit Amenhotep Four, previously known as Akhenaten. Interestingly, his tomb has never been found, although those of his predecessor and successor have. Perhaps because he was buried in Sinai by his new followers. Anyway, the Israelites, historically monotheistic, would have followed such a person."

"And you call me a heretic."

Francis smiled. "I don't think the Church cares a lot about the genealogy of Moses, only that he was one of many Old Testament figures who set the stage for the coming of the Messiah."

"But why would a former king want such a following? I mean, the Israelites were slaves, right?"

"No, not if we read Exodus. Joseph, the man of the many-colored coat, you may recall, was sold into slavery in Egypt, but he did well, became a confidant of that particular pharaoh, and invited his family to join him. Over the years between Joseph, who became Israel, and Moses-slash-Akhenaten, they were one of the many groups that had immigrated."

"Like the U.S.," Lang said, standing to refill his glass at the sink. Grumps gave a low growl of displeasure at having to move from under his master's feet. "Like all immigrants who came here."

Francis held his glass out for a refill also. "One more and I've got to go. But yes, sort of like having Israelite-Egyptians, Nubian-Egyptians, all those hyphenated things some people use today because it feeds some sort of insecurity, as though simply being American isn't enough. One difference, though: The Egyptian immigrants probably became part of the country over many hundreds and hundreds of years, not just a couple of centuries. I'm afraid I have no comments on the gold and manna part of your papers. You'll need a chemist or physicist."

Lang wasn't about to mention the fates of the ones who had already been involved.

"Again, though," Lang persisted, "why would a former king want followers who were just brick makers?"

Francis drained his glass and stood. "Have you ever seen a politician refuse a constituency? Besides, he believed in the one God, as did they."

He moved to the door, extending a hand. "Fine food, good cigar, great company. As always. Thanks." "Sure you won't have another wee tot?"

The priest shook his head. "God may be my copilot, but if I get stopped I'm the one who gets the DUI. The diocese frowns on the bishop having to get his minions out of the slammer at strange nocturnal hours."

Lang stood at the door until he heard the chime of the elevator.

An hour later Lang lay on his back, listening to Grumps's snores. Reflections of passing traffic below played across the ceiling like some abstract black-and-white film.

Moses, who was not an Israelite but a king.

Israelites who were not Jews but Egyptians.

The form that had begun to emerge from the fog in Vienna still had no face, but it was getting clearer.

Vienna?

What was the name Shaffer had mentioned?

Bin Hamish in Cairo, a man who supposedly could explain the energy potential of the white powder.

Lang got out of bed and went into the living room, where a laptop sat on the desk part of the Thomas Elfe secretary. It took nearly an hour before Lang found the man he was certain Shaffer had had in mind.