Adam Palmer: The Moses Legacy

Daniel just hoped he would get the care that he needed when he needed it. He had the money, but he didn’t have that one special person watching over him to make the decisions for him when they needed to be made. He had a day maid to clean the house and he was still capable of cooking for himself – something that he enjoyed as a hobby, not resented as a chore. But there was no one there to watch out for those tell-tale signs when he might need the help of a trained carer. It pained Daniel to think that he could say nothing on the subject to Professor Carmichael and had no one else to talk to about it.

‘I’ll get Roksana to make some tea.’ He turned to the French doors where Roksana was standing.

‘The kettle is on,’ she shouted. ‘I’ll bring it out to you.’

He nodded to thank her and then indicated to Daniel to sit.

‘Now tell me what all this is about.’

Daniel told him about the phone call from Gabrielle yesterday evening, Akil Mansoor’s cryptic invitation and his decision to accept.

‘I would be very careful about going there if I were you, Daniel.’

‘Careful? Why?’

‘Well, you wouldn’t want to get the plague.’

Daniel felt a flush of embarrassment. It wasn’t like Harrison to make puerile jokes. Daniel wondered idly if this was a symptom of the creeping dementia.

‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I’m just a silly old fool.’

‘I could never think that, Professor.’

‘I wrote a paper about it you know,’ said Carmichael. ‘Based on my translation of an old manuscript in Proto-Sinaitic script. But they’re refusing to publish it.’

‘Who?’

‘The Americans. In The Journal. They say it’s still being peer reviewed, but I know what they’re up to. They’re going to rewrite the article in someone else’s name and claim the credit.’

Plagiarism in the academic world was hardly unknown, but once a paper was submitted to an academic journal, plagiarism became less likely. It would require the co-operation of too many people.

‘Did you make a copy?’

‘Oh yes. Roksana typed it for me on my computer.’

‘So you’ve got proof of authorship. You could have a copy witnessed by a solicitor.’

‘Yes, but I want them to publish it. People need to know. The plague could come back.’

‘ Which plague?’

‘The sixth.’

Daniel did a quick flick through the reference pages of his mind. He realized that the professor must be referring to one of the infamous biblical plagues of Egypt.

‘Boils?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why would that plague in particular come back?’

‘Because it can lie dormant for centuries. It had already made a comeback when they were camped outside of Canaan.’ The voice was becoming agitated. ‘That’s what the story with the fiery snakes was all about – the one where Moses put the snake on the pole.’

Harrison was rambling now and Daniel was desperately trying to think of something to distract his mentor from the convoluted thoughts that were tormenting him.

‘Here’s the tea,’ said Roksana, appearing from the house with a tray in her hands.

It was about half an hour later that Harrison Carmichael was trudging back to the house alone. He had insisted on seeing Daniel to the driveway, despite Daniel’s own insistence that it was unnecessary. He watched as Daniel drove away and at the same time saw another car pulled up nearby. As Carmichael turned towards the house, a very tall, powerfully built man got out of the car and approached.

‘Professor Carmichael,’ the man called out, with a quiet sense of urgency in his voice.

‘Yes?’

‘I have to talk to you on a matter of grave importance… about your paper… to The Journal.’

A sense of realization returned to Carmichael and he smiled at the gushing enthusiasm of this man, whose words seemed to convey so much respect for him.

‘You’d better come in.’

The professor led the man inside and asked Roksana to make some more tea as he led his new guest through to the garden. Roksana looked nervous at the presence of this powerfully built stranger, but the professor appeared to know what he wanted.

‘Now, tell me what it is that you wanted to tell me about my paper,’ said the professor.

‘Well, I was wondering if you had a copy of it.’

‘You mean the one I sent to the American Journal of Egyptology?’

‘Yes. Do you have a copy of it? Is it on your computer?’

‘Yes, in my office upstairs. Would you like me to ask Roksana to get you a copy?’

‘Yes. Let’s do that now.’

‘Why don’t we wait for the tea-’

‘I said, let’s do it now!’ shouted the visitor, rising to his feet and yanking Carmichael out of the chair.

The professor looked at him, terrified. This man was a student of his, or so he had said, yet now all he could see was a giant of a man towering over him and being rough and aggressive.

‘Okay,’ said Carmichael meekly. He shuffled along nervously with the tall man walking behind him, giving him a couple of shoves and pushes in the back to assert his control.

When they arrived in the house, Roksana looked confused. ‘I was going to bring the tea out,’ she said.

‘No need,’ the tall man replied. ‘I’m not staying for tea. I just need to know where the office is.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You don’t need to understand, bitch! Just show me where it is.’

In that moment Roksana understood, or at least thought she did. ‘There’s nothing valuable there. Just a computer and some books.’

‘It’s the computer that I’m interested in. That and its content!’

Roksana had enough of a grasp of the situation to realize that this man had come here to take something and he was not looking to leave any witnesses. She made her decision in a flash.

A fraction of a second later, a pot of scalding hot tea was flying at the big man. He was too big and his feet planted too firmly on the floor to dodge it, but a lightning-fast movement of his arm deflected it. After an initial moment of numbness, a searing hot pain shot up his left forearm.

But he was a man who could handle pain, and he had no intention of being stopped by a woman. As she made her desperate dash to the door, he closed the distance between them in three quick strides. She tried to scream, knowing that it was her last chance for survival, despite the isolation of the house. But the intruder clamped a giant hand over her mouth as his other arm encircled her neck from behind. With a powerful motion, he snapped her neck and let her lifeless body slump to the ground.

Carmichael looked on in terror, knowing that there was nowhere to run.

‘The office!’ the giant commanded.

He shuffled along meekly while the man pushed and shoved him from behind. Once in the office, Carmichael turned round hesitantly with tears of terror and confusion in his eyes. The tall man noticed, with relish, that the front of Carmichael’s trousers was wet.

‘Do you keep hard copies?’ asked the intruder.

‘What?’

‘Hard copies!’ He slapped Carmichael viciously across the face.

‘No. I mean… I don’t know. I leave all that to Roksana.’

The big man looked at the computer and knew that he had a decision to make. He recognized that the confused Harrison Carmichael had told him all he knew, so he decided to dispense with him now. Picking up a paperweight from the desk, he smashed it down on Carmichael’s head. The old man slumped to the ground, without a sound. But he was not yet dead. The big man crouched down and struck the old man with the paperweight again. And again… and again… and again.

He dropped the paperweight and placed a hand on the professor’s neck, looking for any sign of a pulse. He felt none. Satisfied that the old man was dead, he proceeded to do what he had come here for.