The Jerusalem Puzzle. Laurence O’Bryan

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СКАЧАТЬ is leading the world in academic research in loads of areas. That’s what your website says anyway. Is it a lie?’

      ‘You were on our website?’

      ‘Just making sure you weren’t an imposter.’

      ‘Very funny.’

      But she was right. He’d probably looked us up after we’d left the hotel. And he hadn’t put the phone down on me, even though he’d been angry.

      I ordered another juice. We watched the people around us. There was a bunch of shaven-headed American men

      at a table nearby. It looked as if they were all praying. They had their eyes closed and one of them was whispering something I couldn’t catch. There was a guy with a long beard with them. He looked like an Old Testament prophet. He was reading from a heavy gilt-edged book and muttering.

      ‘Djinn is a word derived from the Arabic root meaning to hide,’ said Simon an hour later, after he arrived and I’d told him what we’d learned so far.

      ‘It’s an interesting word,’ said Isabel.

      ‘It’s interesting people still believe in such things,’ I said.

      Simon leant his head to one side and gave me his best condescending expression.

      ‘But Max’s death was evil, wasn’t it? So evil is not dead, Sean. The other words derived from the word djinn are interesting too. They are majnu-n – mad – and janin – an embryo.’

      ‘What sort of dig’s going on over there?’ said Isabel. She was giving him one of her super-friendly smiles. I kicked her under the table. Her smile became even warmer.

      ‘I can do better than that,’ he said. His chest puffed up as he spoke. ‘I asked around after you told me Kaiser was probably working here. One of my archaeologist colleagues was involved in the early days of this dig. He told me all about what they claim they’ve found.’ He paused, smiled.

      ‘But best of all, if this is the site I gave Max his reference for, they should be willing to let me look around. I have every reason to see the site after what happened to him.’

      ‘Why don’t we go over there?’ I half rose.

      ‘Don’t you want to know what I found out about the dig?’ said Simon.

      I sat back down. ‘Go on.’

      He looked around first, as if he had something important to say.

      ‘First, I must warn you, as my colleague warned me.’

      He must have registered the look on my face, as he then said, ‘We must all be sceptical about wild claims for sites in this city. I strongly advise you do that.’ He cut the air with his hand, emphasising the words strongly advise.

      ‘So, what are these wild claims about the dig?’ said Isabel.

      ‘My friend said they’d found the basement of a first-century Roman villa.’

      ‘That’s it?’ I said.

      ‘No, no, that’s not it.’ He looked over his shoulder. The Americans were still praying. Simon moved his plastic chair forward, lowered his voice.

      ‘They found a reference to Pontius Pilate.’ He raised his eyebrows.

      ‘You mean the guy who sentenced Jesus to death?’ Isabel had a look of wonder in her eyes. She was a good actress.

      ‘Yes, yes.’

      ‘I thought there was no proof he even existed,’ I said.

      ‘That’s not true.’ Isabel shook her head. ‘They found an inscription to Pilate in the city of Maritima a few years ago.’

      Simon smiled at her.

      ‘So what have they found here?’

      ‘Something amazing,’ he said. ‘You’re not going to believe it.’

      19

      The tile-covered trapdoor was heavy, even for Arap Anach. He knew Susan Hunter would be desperate by now. The light streaming in when he lifted it would probably half-blind her, if she was near it when he opened it. After twenty-four hours in darkness, your eyes can hurt when they see light again.

      Her thirst would have weakened her too. She might even be unconscious and need a slap to wake her.

      He pushed the lid to the side and waited. It was possible, of course, that she would come at him like a wildcat with a piece of brick in her hand.

      Nothing happened.

      He could see the stone stairs descending, part of the earth floor below. As he walked down, the light from the kitchen filled every corner of the basement room.

      She was sitting, hugging her knees against the far wall. Her gaze was fixed on a point in front of her, as if she was trying to ignore him. No appeal came from her mouth, no despairing cry for mercy.

      He was tempted to admire her for that. But the feeling didn’t last.

      He put the litre bottle of water down. ‘This is for you. You are more useful to me alive than dead.’

      Her head bobbed once, as if the thought of the water had brought an involuntary response from her which she’d controlled as soon as she could. She didn’t speak.

      ‘Here is some rice.’ He held up a plastic tub of rice mixed with egg. ‘And now you will do one more thing for me.’

      Her eyes were on him. They were the eyes of a cat watching a predator many times its size.

      He walked towards her, put a sheet of paper on the ground, a lead pencil beside it.

      ‘You will write a few sentences as to why you came to Israel on this paper and then sign your name.’

      He stepped back. The eyes followed him.

      ‘I hope I can release you soon, Dr Hunter,’ he said. ‘You have suffered enough and I do not want to hold you any longer than is necessary. I am negotiating for your release right now. After you write what I say, I will send it to the people I am talking with.’

      She didn’t move.

      He picked up the water bottle, held it in the crook of his arm with the container of rice, then turned, heading to the stairs.

      ‘This is what they asked for, proof that you are still alive. Maybe you will be more cooperative tomorrow,’ he said. ‘When you are a bit weaker.’

      ‘I’ll do it.’ Her voice was still strong. That was good.

      It took her only a minute to write the few sentences he dictated, adding her signature. Then she drank greedily from the bottle. She didn’t even reach for the plastic tub, but he left it with her anyway.

      Upstairs, СКАЧАТЬ