Part 48 (1/2)
”Yes.”
Blotnik asked several more questions about the tomb. Jake replied in vague, icy terms.
Blotnik stood.
”I'm sorry, but you caught me on my way out.” Blotnik gave what I'm sure he considered a sheepish grin. ”Shabbat. Slipping off early.”
”Shabbat shalom,” I said. I said.
”Shabbat shalom,” Blotnik said. ”And thank you so much for trying, Dr. Brennan. The IAA is deeply indebted. Such a long trip. Such a loss. Your gesture is truly remarkable.” Blotnik said. ”And thank you so much for trying, Dr. Brennan. The IAA is deeply indebted. Such a long trip. Such a loss. Your gesture is truly remarkable.”
We were in the hall.
Driving to Hebrew University, Jake and I discussed our encounter with Blotnik.
”You really don't like the guy,” I said.
”He's a self-promoting, egotistical fraud.”
”Don't hold back, Jake.”
”And I don't trust him.”
”Why?”
”He's professionally dishonest.”
”How?”
”Uses the work of others, publishes, doesn't give proper credit. Want me to go on?”
Jake abhorred senior scientists who exploited junior colleagues or students. I'd heard the rant. I let it go.
”Getz told Blotnik about the shroud.”
”I figured she would, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. Esther's the best there is with ancient textiles, and I need her authentication of the thing. Besides, by going through Getz, it makes it impossible for Blotnik to piggyback onto the find.”
”But you don't trust either of them with the bones.”
”No way anyone sees those bones until I've got them fully doc.u.mented.”
”Blotnik didn't seem all that upset about the Masada skeleton,” I said. ”And he didn't seem as surprised to see me as I'd expected.”
Jake glanced at me.
”When I called from Montreal, I never mentioned the date I was coming.”
”No?”
Jake made a left.
”And what about the jet lag comment?” I asked.
”What about it?”
”It's as though Blotnik knows exactly how long I've been here.”
Jake started to speak. I cut him off.
”And wouldn't anyone in archaeology in Israel know about the Hevrat Kadisha?”
”Duh!” Jake snorted. ”You caught that, too?”
”Could it be that Blotnik seemed unconcerned because he he has the skeleton?” has the skeleton?”
”Long shot. The guy's a wimp.” Jake cut me a look. ”But if he does, I'll kick his a.s.s from here to Tel Aviv.”
We also discussed Getz's comments.
”Not exactly garrulous, is she?”
”Esther's direct.”
Not the descriptor I'd pinned on the Getzster.
”But you liked what she saw,” I said.
”d.a.m.n right. Clean hair. No vermin. Imported fabric. And wool was a luxury back then. Most shrouds were exclusively linen. Whoever this boy was, he had social standing.” Jake shot me another look. ”And a hole in his heel bone. And relatives with names straight out of the Gospels.”
”Jake, I've got to admit, I'm skeptical. First the Masada skeleton, now these shroud bones. Are you talking yourself into something because you desperately want it to be true?”
”I've never believed the Masada skeleton is that of Jesus. That was Lerner's interpretation, based on the c.o.c.ked-up thinking of Donovan Joyce. But I do think the bones are those of someone who shouldn't have been up on that rock. Someone whose presence is going to make the Israelis, and maybe the Vatican, pee their shorts.”
”A nonzealot.”
Jake nodded.
”Who?”
”That's what we're going to find out.”
We rode in silence for a while. Then I went back to the shroud.
”Is the shroud I found in the tomb similar to the shroud of Turin?” I asked.
”The Turin cloth is linen, and has a more complicated, three-on-one twill weave. Which makes sense. That shroud dates to the medieval, somewhere between 1260 and 1390 C.E. C.E.”
”Carbon-fourteen dated?”
Jake nodded. ”Confirmed by labs in Tucson, Oxford, and Zurich. And the Turin shroud was a single garment for the whole body. Ours is a two-part deal.”