excellent method for determining if a bone is fake, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. After four decades I’m no closer to the truth than when I started.’ He sighed.
‘Well, maybe you can go into that hard disk and give me a hand, old man,’ Fowler said as he handed Cesáreo a photo.
‘Always the business at hand, always—’
The Dominican stopped in mid-sentence. For a moment he stared myopically at the photograph, and then went over to the desk where he worked. From a pile of books he pulled out an old volume in classical Hebrew that was covered in pencil marks. He leafed through it, checking various symbols against the book. Startled, he looked up.
‘Where did you get this, Anthony?’
‘From an ancient candle. A retired Nazi had it.’
‘Camilo Cirin sent you to recover it, didn’t he? You have to tell me everything. Don’t leave out a single detail. I need to know!’
‘Let’s say I owed Camilo a favour and I agreed to carry out one last mission for the Holy Alliance. He asked me to find an Austrian war criminal who had stolen the candle from a Jewish family in 1943. The candle was covered with layers of gold and the man had had it since the war. A few months ago I caught up with him and retrieved the candle. After melting the wax, I discovered the copper sheet that you see in the photo.’
‘Don’t you have a better one with a higher resolution? I can barely make out the script on the exterior.’
‘It was rolled up too tightly. If I had completely unrolled it, I could have damaged it.’
‘It’s a good thing you didn’t. What you would have ruined is priceless. Where is it now?’
‘I turned it over to Cirin and didn’t really give it much thought. I figured someone at the Curia wanted it. Then I went back to Boston, convinced that I had repaid my debt—’
‘That’s not quite true, Anthony,’ a calm, unemotional voice interjected. The owner of the voice had managed to slip into the crypt like a master spy, which was exactly what the squat, plain-faced man dressed in grey was. Sparing of word and gesture, he concealed himself behind a wall of chameleon-like insignificance.
‘It’s bad manners to enter a room without knocking, Cirin,’ said Cesáreo.
‘It’s also bad manners not to respond when summoned,’ said the Chief of the Holy Alliance, staring at Fowler.
‘I thought we were done. We agreed on a mission - only one.’
‘And you’ve carried out the first part: recovering the candle. Now you have to make sure that what it contains is used correctly.’
Annoyed, Fowler didn’t answer.
‘Maybe Anthony would appreciate his assignment more if he understood its importance,’ Cirin continued. ‘As you now know what we’re dealing with, Brother Cesáreo, would you be so kind as to tell Anthony what that photo you’ve never seen depicts?’
The Dominican cleared his throat.
‘Before I do so, I need to know if it’s authentic, Cirin.’
‘It is.’
The friar’s eyes lit up. He turned to Fowler.
‘This, my friend, is a treasure map. Or to be precise, half of one. That is, if my memory doesn’t fail me, because it has been many years since I held the other half in my hands. This is the piece that was missing from the Copper Scroll of Qumran.’
The priest’s expression darkened considerably.
‘You’re telling me—’
‘Yes, my friend. The most powerful object in History can be found through the meaning of these symbols. And all the problems that come with it.’
‘Good Lord. And it has to show up at this precise moment.’
‘I’m glad you finally understand, Anthony,’ Cirin broke in. ‘Compared with this, all the relics that our good friend keeps in this room are nothing more than dust.’
‘Who put you on the trail, Camilo? Why now, after all this time, did you try to find Dr Graus?’ asked Brother Cesáreo.
‘The information came from one of the Church’s benefactors, a Mr Kayn. A benefactor from another faith and a great
‘Well, maybe you can go into that hard disk and give me a hand, old man,’ Fowler said as he handed Cesáreo a photo.
‘Always the business at hand, always—’
The Dominican stopped in mid-sentence. For a moment he stared myopically at the photograph, and then went over to the desk where he worked. From a pile of books he pulled out an old volume in classical Hebrew that was covered in pencil marks. He leafed through it, checking various symbols against the book. Startled, he looked up.
‘Where did you get this, Anthony?’
‘From an ancient candle. A retired Nazi had it.’
‘Camilo Cirin sent you to recover it, didn’t he? You have to tell me everything. Don’t leave out a single detail. I need to know!’
‘Let’s say I owed Camilo a favour and I agreed to carry out one last mission for the Holy Alliance. He asked me to find an Austrian war criminal who had stolen the candle from a Jewish family in 1943. The candle was covered with layers of gold and the man had had it since the war. A few months ago I caught up with him and retrieved the candle. After melting the wax, I discovered the copper sheet that you see in the photo.’
‘Don’t you have a better one with a higher resolution? I can barely make out the script on the exterior.’
‘It was rolled up too tightly. If I had completely unrolled it, I could have damaged it.’
‘It’s a good thing you didn’t. What you would have ruined is priceless. Where is it now?’
‘I turned it over to Cirin and didn’t really give it much thought. I figured someone at the Curia wanted it. Then I went back to Boston, convinced that I had repaid my debt—’
‘That’s not quite true, Anthony,’ a calm, unemotional voice interjected. The owner of the voice had managed to slip into the crypt like a master spy, which was exactly what the squat, plain-faced man dressed in grey was. Sparing of word and gesture, he concealed himself behind a wall of chameleon-like insignificance.
‘It’s bad manners to enter a room without knocking, Cirin,’ said Cesáreo.
‘It’s also bad manners not to respond when summoned,’ said the Chief of the Holy Alliance, staring at Fowler.
‘I thought we were done. We agreed on a mission - only one.’
‘And you’ve carried out the first part: recovering the candle. Now you have to make sure that what it contains is used correctly.’
Annoyed, Fowler didn’t answer.
‘Maybe Anthony would appreciate his assignment more if he understood its importance,’ Cirin continued. ‘As you now know what we’re dealing with, Brother Cesáreo, would you be so kind as to tell Anthony what that photo you’ve never seen depicts?’
The Dominican cleared his throat.
‘Before I do so, I need to know if it’s authentic, Cirin.’
‘It is.’
The friar’s eyes lit up. He turned to Fowler.
‘This, my friend, is a treasure map. Or to be precise, half of one. That is, if my memory doesn’t fail me, because it has been many years since I held the other half in my hands. This is the piece that was missing from the Copper Scroll of Qumran.’
The priest’s expression darkened considerably.
‘You’re telling me—’
‘Yes, my friend. The most powerful object in History can be found through the meaning of these symbols. And all the problems that come with it.’
‘Good Lord. And it has to show up at this precise moment.’
‘I’m glad you finally understand, Anthony,’ Cirin broke in. ‘Compared with this, all the relics that our good friend keeps in this room are nothing more than dust.’
‘Who put you on the trail, Camilo? Why now, after all this time, did you try to find Dr Graus?’ asked Brother Cesáreo.
‘The information came from one of the Church’s benefactors, a Mr Kayn. A benefactor from another faith and a great
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