I am aware what ability is requisite to persuade the proud how great is the virtue of humility, which raises us, not by human arrogance, but by divine grace. Our task is to assure the human spirit is lifted and that the message is clear through the words of Christ. Your wisdom, offered when I began this task, has proven correct. This work that I labor over will form the first inter pretation of the ancient Scriptures into a language that even the most uneducated could understand. For there to be a connection between the old and the new seems logical. For these Scriptures to be in conflict seems self-defeating and would only elevate the Jewish philosophy to a superior position, since it has existed much longer than our faith. Since we last communicated, I have struggled through more of the ancient text. The progress is made difficult by so many double meanings. Once more I seek your guidance on a critical point. Jerusalem is the sacred city of the old text. The word yeruwshalayim is used often to identify the location, yet I have noticed that nowhere in the old text is ìyr yeruwshalayim ever used, which clearly means “city of Jerusalem.” Let me demonstrate the problem. From the Hebrew, in Kings, Yahweh says to Solomon, “Jerusalem, the city/capital that I have chosen in it.” Farther on, Yahweh states, “so that the city in Jerusalem recalling the memory of David be fore me-the city where I have chosen to establish my name-may be pre served.” My brother, can you see the dilemma? The ancient text speaks of Jerusalem not as a city but as a territory. Always it is the “city in Jerusalem,” not Jerusalem itself. Samuel actually speaks of it as a region where the Hebrew says “the king and his men set out for Jerusalem against the Jebusites who in habited the region.” I have struggled with the translation, hoping for some error to be discovered, but it is consistent throughout the Hebrew usage. The word yeruwshalaim, Jerusalem, always refers to a place comprising a number of cities, not to a single city by that name.
Hermann stopped reading and stared up at the vice president. “Jerome wrote this to Augustine while he was translating the Old Testament from Hebrew to Latin. Let me read you what Augustine, at one point, wrote to Jerome.”
He found another of the translations.
My learned brother, your work seems both arduous and glorious. How amazing it must be to reveal what scribes gone for so long have recorded and all with the divine guidance of our most glorious God. You are certainly aware of the struggles that we all endure in this most dangerous of times. The pagan gods are dying away. The message of Christ is growing. His words of peace, mercy, and love ring true. Many are discovering our new message simply because it is be coming available. Which makes your effort to bring to life the old words that much more important. Your letters clearly explained the problem you are facing. Yet the future of this church, of our God, rests with us. To adapt the message of the old with that of the new is not a sin. As you have said, the words possess many double meanings, so who is to say which is right? Certainly not you or I. You asked for guidance, so I shall give it. Make the old words true to the new. For if the old be different from the new, we surely will be at risk of confusing the faithful and fueling the fires of discontent, which our many enemies keep burning. Yours is a great task. To be able for all to read the old words will mean much. No longer will scholars and rabbis possess control over so important a text. So my brother, work hard and be well knowing that you are doing the work of the Lord.
“You’re saying they intentionally changed the Old Testament?” the vice president asked.
“Of course they did. Just this reference to Jerusalem is a good example. Jerome’s translation, which is still accepted as correct today, denotes Jerusalem as a city. Jerome’s Kings reads, Jerusalem, the city that I have chosen. That’s absolutely contrary to what Jerome himself wrote in the letter. Jerusalem, the city/capital that I have chosen in it. Huge difference, wouldn’t you say? And this description of Jerusalem is used throughout Jerome’s translation. The Jerusalem of the Old Testament became the city in Palestine because Jerome made it so.”
“This is crazy, Alfred. Nobody’s going to buy any of it.”
“It’s not necessary that anyone buy it. Once the proof is found, there will be no denying.”
“Like what?”
“An Old Testament manuscript penned before Christ should be definitive. Then we can read the words without the Christian filter.”
“I wish you luck.”
“Tell you what. I’ll leave the governing of America to you and you leave this to me.”
THORVALDSEN WATCHED AS HERMANN REPLACED THE SHEETS into the display case and closed the compartment. The two men lingered for a few minutes, then left the library. The hour was late, but he wasn’t sleepy.
“They’re going to kill the president,” Gary said nervously.
“I know. Come, we need to leave.”
They descended the spiral staircase.
Lamps still burned in the library. He recalled how Hermann liked to boast that there were some twenty-five thousand books, many first editions dating back hundreds of years.
He led Gary to the case containing the codex. The boy hadn’t seen what he had. He reached beneath and searched for a switch, but felt nothing. Bending down would be difficult. One of the handicaps of a crooked spine.
“What are you looking for?” Gary asked.
“There’s a way to open this case. Have a look and see if there’s a button underneath.”
Gary dropped to his knees and searched.
“I doubt if it will be obvious.” He alternated his attention from the case to the door, hoping no one came inside. “Anything?”
A click, and the case separated slightly about one-third of the way down its length.
Gary stood. “One of the screws. Pretty neat. Unless you poke it, you’d never know.”
“Good job.”
He revealed the hidden compartment and saw the stiff sheets of papyrus with writing from edge to edge. He counted. Nine. He stared around at the bookshelves and spied some oversized atlases. He pointed, “Bring me one of those large books.”
Gary retrieved a volume. Carefully he slid the papyri and translations into the pages to both conceal and protect them.
He reclosed the case.
“What are those?” Gary asked.
“What we came for, I hope.”
SIXTY-FOUR
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 7
9:15 AM
MALONE LEANED BACK AGAINST THE BULKHEAD IN THE CAVERNOUS C130H transport. Brent Green had worked fast, hitching them a ride on an air force supply flight out of England bound for Afghanistan. A stop in Lisbon at the Montijo Air Base, supposedly for a minor repair, had allowed them to board with little fanfare. A change of clothes had awaited them; Malone, Pam, and McCollum now sported army combat uniforms in varying shades of beige, green, and brown, along with desert boots and parachutes. Pam had been apprehensive about the chute, but accepted his explanation that it was standard equipment.
The flight time from Lisbon to the Sinai was eight hours and he’d managed a little sleep. He recalled with no affection other flights on other transports, and the pall of oily jet fuel that hung in the air brought back memories of when he was younger. Staying away far more than being home. Making mistakes that hurt him even now.
Pam had clearly not liked the first three hours of the flight. Understandable, given that comfort was the least of the air force’s concerns. But finally she’d settled down and fallen asleep.
McCollum was another matter.
He’d seemed right at home, donning his parachute with expert precision. Perhaps he was ex-special forces. Malone hadn’t heard from Green as to McCollum’s background. But whatever was learned would soon be of little consequence. They were about to be out of touch, in the middle of nowhere.