P. Deutermann - The Last Man

He lowered himself to a more comfortable position and tried to slow his heartbeat down. He’d found it. If these objects were sacred relics from the Second Temple, it would be the find of the century. Of course, he had no way of proving that, but the writing on the cave walls, once deciphered, might tell the tale. He examined the pile of bones, kneeling down to study that wicked-looking iron blade. It was almost eighteen inches long, with a workmanlike leather handle. He wanted to pick it up, feel its heft, but knew better than to touch anything. He shone the light on the walls again, covered with their strange symbols. He didn’t even know where the text began and ended — but Judith Ressner, ancient language expert, sure as hell would.

He looked at his timer: forty-six minutes. He had to get out of here and back to the surface. He would leave everything right there in the bat cave, changing into his street clothes and then slipping back into the fortress for a cable-car ride. If asked, he’d make something up about trying the Serpent Path descent and then walking around under the fortress walls. The guards would be anxious to close the site down for Shabbat and just tell him to get on the damn cable car. He’d be fine — but he had to get going. Now.

He couldn’t wait to call Judith and tell her of his incredible discovery. She would be furious, of course, but he was willing to bet she would come like a bat out of hell when he told her what was buried in the mountain. He tried to control his surging heartbeat. As he exited the cave mouth he anchored a chemical light-stick to a rock and then cracked it on.

Judith got home to her apartment at five o’clock. She was still depressed about not hearing anything from David Hall, and the silent, uncaring answering machine did nothing to lift her spirits. She shucked her coat, kicked off her shoes, and went to get a glass of wine. Yossi Ellerstein had also found out nothing, apparently. Or, more likely, was afraid to call her and tell her the truth: Mr. Hall is out on a date with Bar Refaeli.

Yet something was playing at the back of her mind. That business with the extra air tanks — something odd there. Hall was an experienced diver; he wouldn’t be planning solo dives anywhere, which meant he had to have set up some other diving tours. That in itself was a bit strange, given what had happened. That night together he’d been a bit of a wreck. Now he was diving again? Why hadn’t he called her, dammit! Because you were no longer included in the equation, my dear, she thought. The phone rang and she jumped.

“It’s me,” he said when she answered.

“Indeed,” she said, sitting down. “Well, Mr. Me, it is nice to hear from you. At last.”

It sounded like he was on a pay phone; she could hear machinery noise in the background, and the sounds of foreign tourists. She’d heard that noise before. Wait — Metsadá? The cable-car machinery room? Oh, no!

“I’m at the hostel. At Metsadá. As you can probably tell.”

She felt a flare of anger. “What on earth are you doing there?”

He was silent for a moment while a tour guide got on her bullhorn in Japanese to round up her tour group to get them to their bus.

“I’ve been bad again,” he said. She could barely hear him. Her heart sank when she realized what he was saying.

“Bad? Bad?! Oh, no — for God’s sake, Mr. Hall — David — tell me you haven’t been digging!”

“Not exactly, but I need you to come down here. Immediately.”

She pressed the telephone to her head, her thoughts whirling. What had this lunatic been doing? “Me? Why? Why me ?”

“Because you’re an archaeologist. I’ve made a significant discovery, but now I need a professional.”

“A discovery? What kind of discovery?” She was almost afraid to ask. Masada! The authorities would kill him. She was ready to kill him.

“How about some major relics from the Second Temple? That strike your fancy?”

She was momentarily stunned into silence. “My God, Mr. Hall,” she whispered. “Where? How? What exactly?”

“Too hard to explain this way. I have to leave now — they’re closing the place down for the Sabbath. Come down here. Tonight. Please. Meet me at that geothermal building on the seashore.”

“ What? That’s impossible. I would have to notify—”

“No!” he shouted and then lowered his voice. “I mean, you can’t — you don’t know what I’ve found, but if you come, you will be the discoverer of record.”

“Mr. Hall—”

“Because you’re the archaeologist. I’m just an amateur. I haven’t touched anything. You will be the one, the archaeologist who makes the greatest discovery in modern Jewish history. Think of it.”

She did think of it, and then recoiled at the enormity of what he had done. Gone excavating at Masada. After being warned off the site. The IAA would expel him from the country. Any Israeli citizen helping him, especially an Israeli archaeologist… well, it was just unimaginable.

“Mr. Hall, this is impossible. I am a professional archaeologist, just as you say. I have responsibilities. A duty to protect ancient sites and relics. I am horrified at what you’ve done. I couldn’t begin to—”

“A gold-plated menorah, two meters high,” he whispered. “A dozen or more gold-capped theca, still sealed. A skeleton with a dagger. A cave whose walls are covered in writing.”

She was speechless. Two meters? Just like on the Roman coins. Judaea Capta. My God, could it be?

“Meet me in three hours,” he said. “By that geothermal building. South of the mountain. Drive past it, turn off your lights, and turn around and come back to it. And Judith? Bring your diving gear. It’s in a fully flooded cistern. Huge — a hundred feet across, easy. Three hours.”

He hung up and she just sat there, the phone pressed against her ear so hard it hurt, still in shock. Slowly she put the phone down and sat back on the couch. Almost unconsciously, she drank the entire glass of wine, while she tried to figure out what to do. Helping him was out of the question, of course. She had to call the chairman immediately. Report what this madman was saying. That he had been digging, illegally, on Herod’s mountain. That he was claiming to have made an enormous discovery.

Second Temple artifacts !

Then she got angry again. He had lied at every step. He had come to Israel with this crazy mission in mind all along. All the rest of it had been cover and deception. Getting them to help him gain access to the site. The bumbling amateur act. She should have known when they caught him out on the mountain at night. Communing with the spirits. Scouting was more like it.

And their evening together? More of the same. Now he wanted an archaeologist to somehow legitimize his discoveries? Right.

By now she was furious. The police, that’s who he was going to get, she decided. The police, who were already familiar with this man, would treat him to a little scouting expedition to an Israeli jail. She’d call the Interior Ministry, get one of their security teams to meet him in his precious three hours and haul his impudent ass off to jail. Let him spend the night in a cellblock with some bored Palestinian teenagers.

She swore out loud, reached for the phone, and jumped when it rang again. She grabbed it up, ready to yell at him.

David left the hostel and went out into the parking lot. It was coming on twilight, and most of the buses had already left. The lights up in the hostel were flicking off. He walked over to his Land Rover, got in, looked around to see if anyone cared what he was doing, and then drove out of the lot. He turned right and headed south toward the bottom of the Dead Sea. A spectacular sunset was shaping up over the escarpments to the west. He drove slowly, enjoying the view but dreading what Judith might do.