The Second Messiah

Julius Weiss looked like a harmless enough eccentric. A stocky man with cold eyes and an intense stare, his abiding obsession was the security of Israel. With the title of HaMemuneh, or responsible one, he held the military rank of general, but as Mossad chief he never wore a uniform, preferring instead the anonymous garb of open-neck shirt and worn leather sandals.

Weiss was seated behind his desk that afternoon, reading a file, when Ari Tauber led Lela into the office. Weiss greeted her with a stare, then shut the file and came round from his desk to shake her hand. “Inspector Raul. How was your trip?”

“It would have been better if I’d known why I’d been summoned.”

A smile flickered on Weiss’s face. “Go grab a coffee, Ari.”

“Yes, sir.” Tauber withdrew, closing the door after him.

Weiss indicated a chair. “Take a seat, Inspector. My name is Julius Weiss, and I’m the head of Mossad. I have an interest in a case of yours. The murder at Qumran of an American archaeologist named Professor Green. Would you care to fill me in on what’s been happening in the case?”

“With respect, sir, the case is a police matter.”

Weiss arched a bushy eyebrow, as if unused to being questioned. “And now I’m making it Mossad’s business. An ancient scroll that was found at Qumran has also been stolen, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Any artifacts discovered on Israeli soil are the property of the state. In these circumstances, such a theft from the state is my responsibility. I have already spoken with your superior and he assured me of your full cooperation. I believe he told you as much?”

Lela said defiantly, “Yes, he did. But that doesn’t mean I have to like Mossad sticking its nose into police business.”

Weiss picked up his telephone handset and bluntly offered it to Lela. “Maybe I should call your boss again and ask him to repeat his recommendation to you.”

Lela met Julius Weiss’s laser stare. “What exactly do you want to know?”

Weiss slapped down the phone, his authority established. “Everything, Inspector, and leave nothing out.”

Ten minutes later, Lela finished telling Weiss everything she knew. He considered thoughtfully, studying her notebook open on his desk, reading the translated portion of the text that Jack Cane had given her. Finally, Weiss looked up and said, “Just to be clear, apart from these seemingly bizarre lines of text and the reference to Jesus Christ, nobody knows the full contents of the scroll, correct?”

Lela nodded. “Cane said they couldn’t risk peeling open the fragile leather further because it might cause damage. But he said the professor believed the document would serve as a powerful confirmation of the actual existence of Jesus Christ. Apparently, such evidence isn’t easily come by.”

“I take it he didn’t have time to estimate the scroll’s likely age with carbon dating.”

“No he didn’t. Our forensics people will carbon-date the parchment flakes they found. But Jack Cane had seen other scroll examples from the first century A.D. and seemed certain that it dated from then.”

Weiss sighed, placed his hands behind his head, and sat back, resting one of his ancient sandals on the desk. “And now the scroll’s gone and a man’s been murdered and the chief suspect has disappeared. Not good, is it?”

“No.” Lela thought that the worn, upturned soles of the Mossad chief’s sandals looked badly in need of repair.

“By the way, I knew your father, Inspector. We served together during the Six-Day War. He was a very brave and honorable soldier. I admired him greatly.”

“Thank you.”

Weiss stood, crossed to the window, and said without turning back, “If you’re even half the person your father was, I want you to remain on the case. But from now on, this is not just a police investigation, Inspector, it’s also Mossad’s domain. Cane’s discovery may have grave repercussions for the state of Israel.”

Lela frowned. “Can you explain?”

Weiss nodded. “I will. But at a time when I decide it’s appropriate. For now, just accept my word that the inquiry will almost certainly turn out to be a lot more profound than a simple murder.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of being kept in the dark about any aspect of a murder case.”

Weiss came back from the window and said forcefully, “What you like or don’t like is immaterial. I still want you on board, working alongside Mossad. Not only because I believe you’re an excellent investigator but because you know Jack Cane.”

“Who told you that?”

“My people spoke to Sergeant Mosberg. Do you think Cane’s involved in this murder?”

“It’s too early to say, but I know his character. He’s a good man. Not someone who’d be easily driven to commit homicide.”

Weiss raised an eye. “A good man who’s gone on the run after a murder in which he’s a chief suspect. Such a man is either very stupid or very guilty, don’t you think? When was the last time you saw Cane before this morning?”

“When I was nineteen.”

“Forgive me, Inspector, but people change.”

Lela didn’t speak.