One of the Guardians had managed to follow Malone to the Savoy Hotel and witnessed a breakfast with Sabre. Then those same eyes had watched as the two, plus Malone’s ex-wife, boarded a flight to Lisbon. Since Haddad himself had fashioned the quest Malone was taking, he’d known exactly where the three were headed.
Which was why Adam and Eve were sent to Lisbon. To make sure that nothing prevented Malone and his new ally from making their way to the Sinai.
Haddad had thought the threat would be from governments-Israeli, Saudi, or American. But now he realized the greatest danger was from the man standing two meters away. He hoped Sabre was working for himself. And watching the expectancy in the other man’s words and actions, he was now sure that the threat was containable.
“We have many texts concerning the Bible,” he said. “That was a subject the library took a great interest in studying.”
“The Old Testament. In Hebrew. Are there manuscripts here?”
“Three. Two supposedly copied from earlier texts. One an original.”
“Where?”
He motioned to the doorway from which they’d entered. “Two rooms back. The Room of Province. If you intend to be the Librarian, you’re going to have to learn where materials are stored.”
“What do those Bibles say?”
He feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen letters. From Jerome and Augustine. They talk of the Old Testament being changed. That the translations were altered. There were other invitees, four, who studied that, too. One, a man five years ago, a Palestinian, who said that the Old Testament was a record of the Jews not in Palestine, but somewhere else in Saudi Arabia. What do you know about that?”
“A great deal. And those men are correct. The translations of the accepted Bible are wrong. The Old Testament is indeed a record of the Jews in a place other than Palestine. West Arabia, in fact. I have read many manuscripts here in the library that prove the point. I have even seen maps of ancient Arabia that indicate biblical locations.”
The gun came level and pointed straight at him. “Show me.”
“Unless you’re capable of reading Hebrew or Arabic, they will mean nothing.”
“One more time, old man. Show me or I’ll kill you and take my chances with your employees.”
He shrugged. “Simply trying to be helpful.”
SABRE HAD NO IDEA IF THE SHEETS AND CODICES SPREAD OUT before him were what Alfred Hermann sought. It didn’t matter. He intended to control everything around him.
“These are treatises written in the second century by philosophers who studied at Alexandria,” the Librarian said. “The Jews were just then beginning to become a political force in Palestine, asserting their supposed ancient presence, preaching an entitlement to the land. Sound familiar? These scholars determined that there was no ancient presence. They studied the Hebrew texts of the Old Testament, which the library maintained, and determined that the stories, as told at the time orally by the Jews, were far different in the texts, especially the oldest ones. Seems that as time progressed, the stories became more and more adapted to the Jews’ then homeland, which had become Palestine. They’d simply forgotten their past in Arabia. If not for place-names, which remained constant, and the Old Testament written in its original Hebrew, that history would have never been discovered.”
The Librarian pointed at one of the codices.
“That one is much later. Fifth century. When Christians decided they wanted the Old Testament to be included in their Bible. This treatise makes clear the translations were altered to conform the Old with the emerging New Testament. A conscious attempt to fashion a message using history, religion, and politics.”
Sabre stared at the books.
The Librarian motioned to another stack of parchments contained within a clear plastic container. “This is the oldest Bible we have. Written four hundred years before Christ. All in Hebrew. The world has nothing like this. I believe the oldest Bible, outside this room, dates from nine hundred years after Christ. Is this what you seek?”
Sabre said nothing.
“You’re an odd man,” the Librarian suddenly said.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know how many invitees have ventured here? Many thousands throughout the centuries. Our guest book is impressive. It started in the twelfth century with Averroës, the Arabic philosopher who wrote critically of Aristotle and challenged Augustine. He studied here. Those Guardians decided the time had come to share this knowledge, but selectively. Many of the names no one would recognize-just men and women of exceptional intelligence who came to the Guardians’ attention. Minds that made their own individual contributions to our knowledge. In the days before radio, television, and computers, Guardians lived in major cities, always on the watch for invitees. Thomas Aquinas, Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, Poussin, Chaucer-men like that have all stood in this room. Montaigne wrote his Essays here. Francis Bacon conceived his famous statement I take all knowledge for my province here, in the Room of Province.”
“Is all that supposed to mean something to me?”
The old man shrugged. “I’m trying to explain your charge. You say you want to be the Librarian. If so, you will be granted quite a privilege. Those in the past who have served met Copernicus and Kepler and Descartes. Robespierre. Benjamin Franklin. Even Newton himself. All those learned souls benefited from this place, and the world benefited from their ability to comprehend and expand.”
“And none of them ever said they were here?”
“Why would they? We seek no credit. In that way they obtain the recognition. If we assisted them? That was our charge. Quite an accomplishment, it has been, to keep this alive. Can you carry on that tradition?”
Since he had no intention of allowing anyone else to see this place, he asked what he really wanted to know. “How many Guardians are there?”
“Nine. Our ranks are greatly depleted.”
“Where are they? I saw only two outside.”
“The monastery is large. They were about their duties.”
He motioned with the gun. “Let’s go back to the first room. I want to see something else.”
And the old man started walking.
He debated killing him here. But Malone should, by now, have figured out what was happening. He was either waiting at the other end of the maze or on his way through it.
Regardless, this old man would prove useful.
EIGHTY
MALONE ROUNDED THE FINAL CORNER AND SPOTTED A DOORWAY formed by two winged, human-headed lions. He knew the symbolism. The mind of a man, the strength of an animal, the ubiquity of a bird. Marble doors hung open on bronze hinges.
They stepped inside and stared at the opulence.
He marveled at how long it must have taken to create something so extraordinary. Rows of diagonal bins lined the tiled floor, broken by narrow aisles, each brimming with scrolls. He stepped to one of the bins and slid out the top bundle. The document was in remarkable condition, but he dared not unroll it. He glanced inside the cylinder and saw that the writing was still legible.
“I never knew something like this could exist,” Pam said. “It’s beyond comprehension.”
He’d seen amazing things, but nothing as wonderful as the sight of all that this room held. He noticed high on one of the shiny red walls more Latin words. AD COMMUNEM DELECTATIONEM. For the enjoyment of all. “The Guardians accomplished something extraordinary.”
He noticed a carving in one of the walls. He stepped close and spied a ledger of what lay ahead, the rooms identified in Latin. He translated each one out loud for Pam.
“Five rooms,” he said. “They could be anywhere.”
Movement at the far doorway caught his attention.