Adrian D'Hage - The Omega scroll

‘Eject, Michael! You’re hit! Eject! Eject!’

Lieutenant Michael Kaufmann never heard the message. At close to the speed of sound the Mediterranean was like a concrete wall. One of Israel’s finest young pilots had flown his last sortie.

‘General Kaufmann, could I have a word?’ The young Israeli captain’s eyes were misty. Instinctively, Yossi knew what she was about to tell him.

Jerusalem

‘I’m very sorry about Michael. Such a senseless loss,’ Giovanni sympathised. ‘It must have been very hard to deal with.’

‘Yes, even though it was nearly twenty years ago, we still miss him every day,’ Yossi said with a sad look in his eyes. ‘It has made me very determined that his life and the lives of others will not be wasted, although we don’t seem to learn much from history,’ he added ruefully. ‘Unless we stop building settlements on Palestinian land and start genuine negotiations we’re all going to be on a very slippery slope,’ Yossi said. ‘Today it’s hijacking airliners, tomorrow it might be something far more sinister.’

‘What makes you say that?’ Giovanni asked.

‘I spent a long time in military intelligence, Giovanni. It’s common knowledge that several of Israel’s enemies are keen on acquiring nuclear technology, but there is something else. Have you ever seen any of the work I’ve done on the codes in the Dead Sea Scrolls?’

‘Patrick was kind enough to give me one of your papers. I found it fascinating.’

‘Then you will have seen my analysis on the horrifying warning that is in the Omega Scroll.’

Giovanni was tempted to lay his cards on the table. He felt sure he could trust Patrick and Yossi but he held back. The Vatican would deny it all emphatically.

‘The Essenes were a very advanced and thoughtful scientific community,’ Yossi said, ‘and I believe if they saw fit to record this warning, we should take notice.’

Long after Patrick’s guests had left, Giovanni lay awake in his room overlooking the Old City’s Christian Quarter Road. Could it be that when the Romans destroyed the Essenes at Qumran, an ancient seat of scientific learning had been lost? Giovanni knew that many people would be sceptical, but he also knew many ancient civilisations were far more advanced than at first thought. The dry cell battery, he recalled, had been invented over two thousand years before it had appeared in Western civilisation. The ancient versions had been made out of a copper cylinder set in pitch with an iron rod inside and there was an example of one in the Baghdad museum, but when the Greeks and Romans developed a preference for oil, the technology had been lost. Was it possible there was a lot more to the Essenes than modern scholarship had allowed? The answer lay hidden in the Judaean desert.

Milano

A llegra was quietly confident. She had gained her Masters with Distinction and enjoyed some notable successes assisting Professor Rosselli researching archaeological DNA. The Professor had persuaded her to take her doctorate and the moment of truth had arrived. It was now two months since she’d handed in her doctoral thesis and it seemed that a little piece of her had gone with it. Three long years of painstaking research. She had been confident during the two hour grilling by the Examination Board, although Professor Rosselli had not looked at her when she left, so she was in a bit of a quandary as to how the oral exam might have gone. When she went over her responses, she realised that perhaps a different emphasis might have been given to the mitochondrial DNA, or to the links to dendrochronology, but it was too late for that and she knocked on Professor Rosselli’s door.

‘ Avanti! S’accomodi.’

Allegra had grown used to the smell of the Professor’s pipe and it no longer bothered her, which was just as well. Somewhere in amongst the smoke and the piles of books on philosophy and science there was a desk and a person. Her mentor had his back to her, busy at the smaller computer at his side desk, trademark white hair as untidy as ever, smoke spiralling above it. He swivelled back behind his main desk to face her, a look of puzzlement in his normally mischievous eyes.

‘Sit down, Allegra, he said, offering her the old ‘Captain’s Chair’ that leaned lopsidedly in front of the academic chaos on his desk.

‘So, how do you think your doctoral thesis might have been received by the Board?’ Rosselli was frowning now.

Allegra felt a small twinge of doubt. ‘I gave it my best shot, Antonio,’ she said.

‘Hmm,’ he responded with uncharacteristic haughtiness, and Allegra’s doubts gained ground.

Professor Rosselli rummaged in what passed for an in-tray, retrieving a letter from the pile, his quizzical look more evident now. ‘In your case the Board have reached an interesting conclusion, Dr Bassetti.’

Allegra braced herself for bad news.

‘You seem nervous?’

‘I am a bit.’

‘Not happy with the title?’

‘Of my thesis?’ she asked, puzzled now.

‘Doctor?’

Allegra looked at him uncomprehendingly and then realised what he’d called her. Her hand went to her mouth.

‘Oh. You mean I’ve been accepted?’

‘If you have a fault that needs correction, young lady,’ Professor Rosselli said, his frown replaced by a broad smile, his old eyes dancing with delight at the success of his subterfuge, ‘it is that you underestimate your abilities. You are confident enough on the outside, but I would like to see more from within.’ Professor Rosselli glanced at the letter.

‘The Board was unanimous. We thought it was one of the most outstanding doctoral theses on DNA that we have seen for a very long time. The Vatican will turn itself inside out to discredit your work, but we particularly liked your linkages to carbon dating and the Dead Sea Scrolls. Your theory that some of these scrolls date from around the time of Christ will no doubt stir up a hornet’s nest. My congratulations. An amazing piece of work, Dr Bassetti. I think the title suits you.’

‘I’ll try and get used to it,’ Allegra replied, her feelings a mixture of relief and exhilaration.

‘We intend to publish it widely, if that’s all right with you.’

‘I would take it as a compliment, Antonio.’

‘Good, because I am under some pressure from church groups to justify my views on the usefulness of scientific techniques in dating archaeological artefacts such as the Dead Sea Scrolls. I would like you to give a lecture on carbon dating, primarily for our students, but one that will also be open to the public. We’ve already put out some feelers and a lot of people want to come, including one group from the Buffett Evangelical Centre for Christ. As you might gather, they’re fundamentalist Christian and they want equal time to present proof from the Bible that the Earth is only a few thousand years old and that carbon dating is fatally flawed.’

Allegra rolled her eyes.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to let a scientific discussion be taken over by a bunch of fruit loops. I’ve given them a polite no to equal time, although of course they’re entitled to their wacky views and I’ve told them they are welcome to come.’

‘And are they?’ Allegra asked, suddenly concerned that she was being dragged back into a world of dogma from which she had long freed herself.

‘Welcome? On a par with your mother-in-law announcing she’s coming to live with you. Will they come? On a par with the sun rising tomorrow. They’re talking about sending one or two of their heavies over from their Atlanta headquarters, but you needn’t worry. I’ll be there to chair so they won’t be able to hijack question time.’