Part 47 (1/2)
I waited.
”Claims someone hired him to cap Ferris.”
29.
I BLINKED, SET DOWN THE JAR, RECOVERED ENOUGH TO ASK A BLINKED, SET DOWN THE JAR, RECOVERED ENOUGH TO ASK A question. question.
”Kaplan was paid to kill Ferris?”
Tight nod.
”By whom?”
”He's yet to share that little detail.”
”He's been claiming he's innocent as Little Bo Peep. Why talk now?”
”Who knows?”
”Friedman believes him?”
”He's listening.”
”Sounds like a plot straight out of The Sopranos. The Sopranos.”
”You could say that.” Ryan glanced at his watch. ”I've gotta get back there.”
Ryan was gone five minutes when Jake surfaced. Good news. We could access the Masada transcripts. And Getz would see us. He'd told her about the shroud, but not about the bones. While I questioned the wisdom of concealment, this was Israel, his turf, not mine. And Jake a.s.sured me he was only buying a few days.
And a few purloined bone samples, I suspected.
As Jake downed two aspirin and I repackaged the shroud, we discussed what to do with the bones. The Hevrat Kadisha were obviously unaware of the bones' existence, or they'd have been screaming that we hand them over. And since the HK already had Max, they'd no longer have a reason to keep me under surveillance, or tail me. We decided Jake's flat was safe.
Locking the bones in the ossuary cabinet, we secured the doors, then the outer gate, and set off. Though the tension in his jaw suggested a headache in progress, Jake insisted on taking the wheel of his rented Honda.
Crossing back through the Nablus Road checkpoint, Jake wormed through traffic to Sultan Suleiman Street in East Jerusalem. Across from the northeast corner of the Old City wall, opposite the Flower Gate, he pulled into a driveway that led uphill to a pair of metal doors. A battered sign identified the Rockefeller Museum in English and Hebrew.
Jake got out and spoke into a rusted intercom. Minutes later the doors opened and we circled to a beautifully landscaped front lawn.
Backtracking on foot to a side entrance, I noticed an inscription on the building's exterior: GOVERNMENT OF PALESTINE. DEPARTMENT OF ANTIQUITIES GOVERNMENT OF PALESTINE. DEPARTMENT OF ANTIQUITIES.
Times change.
”When was this building constructed?” I asked.
”Place opened in 1938. Mainly houses antiquities unearthed during the time of the British Mandate.”
”Nineteen nineteen to 1948.” I'd read that in Winston's book. ”It's beautiful.”
It was. White limestone, all turrets, and gardens, and arches.
”There's some prehistoric material here as well. And some kick-a.s.s ossuaries.”
Kick-a.s.s or not, the place was deserted.
Jake led me through several exhibit halls to a flight of stairs, our steps ricocheting hollowly off the stone walls. The air was heavy with the smell of disinfectant.
Upstairs, we pa.s.sed through several arched openings and turned right into a recessed alcove. A plaque announced the office of Esther Getz.
Jake knocked softly, then cracked the door.
Across the room I saw a woman of about my age, robust, with a jaw that could have opened the iced-up St. Lawrence in spring. Seeing us, the woman left her scope and swept forward.
Jake made introductions.
I smiled and offered my hand. Getz shook it as though I might be contagious.
”You've brought the shroud?”
Jake nodded.
Getz made s.p.a.ce on a table. Jake centered the two Tupperware containers on it.
”You're not going to belie-”
Getz cut him off. ”Refresh me on provenance.”
Jake described the tomb, without mentioning its specific location.
”Anything I say today will be strictly preliminary.”
”Of course,” Jake said.
Getz pried free one lid and studied the shroud, repeated with the second tub. Then she gloved and gently removed each remnant. Fifteen minutes later she'd managed to unroll the smaller swatch.
We spotted it simultaneously. Like kids in chem cla.s.s, we all leaned in.
”Hair.” Getz wasn't talking to us, she was thinking out loud.
Another fifteen minutes and she'd tweezed most strands into a vial, placed a half dozen others under a magnifying scope.
”Freshly cut. Some sheen. No signs of lice or casings.”
Getz exchanged the hair for the larger segment of cloth.
”Simple one-to-one plain weave.”