They rode in silence for several kilometers. Ava was antsy. She looked at Pauclass="underline" Staring intently out the foggy window, he seemed lost in contemplation. He’s angry, she thought. He blames himself for everything.
In a pocket on the back of the front seat, Ava found a collection of brochures advertising island attractions. To kill time, she clicked on an interior light and began reading. One brochure described the Domus Romana, a Roman house from the first century discovered outside Mdina. The pamphlet provided a photo catalog of artifacts on display there: delicate amphorae, a beautiful Roman comb, coins, domestic utensils, richly ornamented columns, mosaics, statues, marble inscriptions, glass objects, and several stone jars identical to the ones in the catacombs. Seeing the jars, Ava went numb. She recalled how close they’d come to dying. If Paul hadn’t grabbed that stone lid and bashed the impostor over the head…
Thunder roared.
Ava sat up, rigid, mouth open in wonder. Stone. How could she have missed that? The lid was stone. The lids were always stone. Flat disks of stone. “Of course!” Her memory flashed back to Revelation 5:2: “And the mighty angel asked, ‘Who is worthy to break the seals and unlock the message?’”
Paul gazed out the window, oblivious to Ava. The storm had gained strength. Sheets of rain came drenching down. Ava grabbed his arm, demanding his attention.
“The jars were sealed when you found them, right?”
“Huh? What do—”
“Shut up and listen! In Egypt, you said the jars were sealed when you found them.” She stared at him expectantly.
“Right. Yes. They were.”
“And you helped Simon open them. Being super careful, you used surgical tools to unseal them, right?”
“Yes. We removed the lids. Hey! What’s the matter?” Ava was shaking, her hands balled into fists.
“Driver,” she yelled, “can’t you go any faster?”
The cabbie grunted. He pushed the accelerator, the engine roared, and the car hurtled down the ancient Roman road.
“Ava.” Paul took her shoulders and turned her body toward him. “What is it?”
“You said it yourself. Oh, why didn’t I listen?” She hugged him tightly, put her lips to his ear, and whispered, “What if the message is hidden in the jars? Literally in the jars.”
“But they’re empty.”
“No. They’ve never been empty.”
The moment they reached the hotel Ava shot out of the cab. She raced through the lobby, startling a bell captain. Paul paid the driver, added a generous tip, and followed her upstairs. He opened the hotel room door and found her struggling to drag a titanium canister out of the closet.
“Help me!” she ordered.
“Help you how?”
“Help me open it!” They lugged the canister into the center of the room and released the latch. Air hissed. Ava washed her hands and asked Paul to remove the artifact. He spread his feet, crouched, wrapped his arms around the stone jar’s lip, and hefted it clear. Hoping to facilitate her examination, he carried it directly under the light. To his surprise, Ava ignored the jar. Instead, she gently removed the disk-shaped clay lid. Holding the ancient seal under the light, she investigated both of its sides. Then she quivered. Paul saw her eyes widen in wonder.
“Look,” she whispered. He stood by her and directed his gaze down where she indicated. On the inside rim the clay was cracked where he and Simon had pried it open. Beneath the dull surface he noticed a metallic glint. Paul grinned. It looked like gold.
Gabe awoke in a dark, unfamiliar room. A disturbing image loomed above him. After a moment of panic, he recognized Picasso’s Guernica. With relief, Gabe realized he was still in Jess’s apartment. He turned on the lights and scanned the room for his hostess, but she was missing. Gabe grew nervous. Did the bearded men follow him here? Did they do something to her? His heart pounded. How could he have been so thoughtless? Wracked with guilt, he scoured the room in search of a telephone. He had to call the police…
Just then Jess arrived with several boxes of aromatic takeout labeled spice thai restaurant. She’d selected Pad Thai, dancing shrimp, mango curry with chicken, a seaweed salad, and two gigantic boba teas. Ordinarily Gabe wasn’t keen to experiment with new cuisines, but overcome with relief that Jess was all right, he scooped a heaping spoonful of each dish onto a plate. Thirty minutes later, all the food was gone and Gabe had a new favorite restaurant.
They checked e-mail. durmdvl had replied, promising to contact Ava and convey Gabe’s warning. In addition, the e-mail went on, Gabe and Jess should expect some FedEx deliveries. Jess asked, “What’s that about?”
Gabe had no idea.
To create a workspace, Ava and Paul covered the hotel table with their white cotton bedsheet. Atop it sat an art deco lamp with its hot bulb exposed. Next to the lamp was the disk of ancient clay. Ava bent over the artifact, studying it. Soon she set about widening the crack delicately, using a sharp, silver-plated letter opener. After two hours she’d made little progress. Frustrated, Ava glanced over at Paul, who was reclining on the naked mattress, struggling to stay awake. She sighed and returned to her explorations, when suddenly she noticed something interesting.
“Hey!” she said. “Come look at this.”
He rolled off the mattress, joined her at the table, and examined her work. Ava had widened the crack, but only slightly.
“Great job!” he said, trying to sound supportive.
“No,” she replied, exasperated. “Look at this.” Her letter opener pointed to a smudge on the sheet. Paul raised his eyebrows quizzically. He couldn’t imagine how that mattered, but she was the expert. “Do you need me to fetch a clean bedsheet?”
Ava laughed. “No, silly. I’m trying to show you something.” With a cloth napkin, she wiped some perspiration from her brow. She daubed the artifact with the cloth and showed Paul the results. Except for a little dust and dirt, the napkin was still basically clean. Then she held the wet cloth against the seal’s underside. When she removed it, the cloth was stained the clay’s dark color.
“Huh!” said Paul. Then he frowned. “What’s the difference?”
“The exterior is glazed, kiln-fired clay. It’s waterproof, but for some reason the inside isn’t. I wonder…”
She lifted the artifact and walked to the bathtub. Ava closed the drain, turned on the faucet, and slid the lid under the running water. Reddish clay melted away to reveal a dazzling golden disk about eighteen centimeters in diameter. With a gentle tug, Ava freed the shimmering metal from the drab exterior that had concealed it for so many centuries.
Paul was awestruck. He shook his head, “Amazing,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said, “it really is.”
“I was talking about you.”
Too nervous to sleep, Zeke sat up late, flipping his TV from channel to channel. It was difficult to find anything to watch. At this hour, most stations ran nothing but infomercials that badgered him to buy exercise equipment. Eventually he chanced upon an actual program, a black-and-white movie. Humphrey Bogart was saying, “I hope they don’t hang you, precious, by that sweet neck.”
The phone rang. He jumped up.
“Hello?”
A raspy voice commanded: “We need to meet.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Wait!” the bishop’s assistant said. “Are they dead? Did you get the jars?”
“Not over the phone. Come to the parking garage behind your office. I have your reward.”